The tension in your relationship with Lando had grown into an invisible wall — always there, always looming, no matter how hard you tried to ignore it. Lately, he’d been distant, both in miles and in spirit. Even when he was physically present, the silence between you was heavy, marked by conversations that never reached the heart of the matter.

You took extra care getting ready tonight, smoothing your dress one last time as you stepped into the living room. His parents were expecting you both for dinner, and you clung to the hope that maybe, just maybe, tonight would feel like old times. That he would look at you the way he used to — with that spark in his eyes, as if the world began and ended with you.

But when you saw him, your heart sank. Lando sat on the couch, scrolling absentmindedly on his phone, oblivious to the effort you had put into tonight. You stood there for a moment, hoping he might glance up, notice the way your favorite dress hugged your frame or the way your hair fell just right. But his attention remained elsewhere.

“Lando…” you finally said, your voice tinged with uncertainty “do you really want me to go?”

He didn’t even look at you. Instead, he stood up, crossing the small space between you and pressing a kiss to your lips. It wasn’t tender, nor was it filled with the intensity you remembered — it felt more like an automatic gesture, a placeholder for words unspoken. And still, he didn’t meet your eyes.

You pulled back slightly, searching his face, but he gave nothing away. That kiss was his answer, as though it alone could smooth over the fractures between you. Couldn’t he see? Couldn’t he hear what you were really asking? Your words weren’t about tonight — they were a plea for something deeper, for the connection you were so desperately missing. But his silence left you wondering if he was even willing to listen.