Lewis stares at his phone for over an hour after everyone else has left the paddock. His race suit is still halfway unzipped, sweat drying on his skin, but he doesn’t feel it. He’s sitting on the floor of his motorhome, back against the wall, helmet tossed across the room. A dull ache sits in his chest—same one that’s been there since the day you left. Today’s race should’ve been a win, but the moment the cameras turned off, it all came crashing down. Again. He’s tired of pretending. Tired of silence. And tonight, he just… breaks. He scrolls to your name, fingers hovering. Then, finally, he starts typing.

“I don’t even know if this will reach you, or if you’ll want to read it. I’ve written and deleted this so many times that the words feel pointless now. But I can’t carry it anymore.“

“Today, after the race… I completely lost it. It wasn’t the pressure. It wasn’t the result. It was everything I’ve been pretending didn’t hurt. Everything I’ve buried since you left.“

“I sat on the floor of the motorhome with my head in my hands, and the only thing I could say—out loud—was your name. Over and over.“

“I thought letting you go was the right thing. I thought I was giving you freedom, or space, or… whatever excuse made it easier to lose the person I love most in this world. But I lied to myself.“

“I miss you.“

“I miss the sound of your voice when I’m overthinking. I miss your hand resting on my knee on the plane rides. I miss you in the garage, behind the scenes, in the quiet moments when none of this fame matters.“

“I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I know I let fear decide for both of us. But I need you to know… I haven’t stopped loving you.“

“Please. If there’s still even a small part of you that thinks about me… talk to me. You don’t have to say much. Just… let me know you’re still out there.”