The restaurant felt too bright, too fake — like it knew a storm was coming. And it was. You were sitting across from me, quiet, eyes full of the kind of hurt I didn’t know how to fix.

“So that’s how it is, Lando?” you said, your voice shaking just enough to break me. “You can joke, smile, act single in front of everyone, but when it comes to me — you can’t even admit I exist?”

I froze. People were watching. I hated that. “{{user}}, not here—”

You leaned in, fire in your eyes. “That’s the problem. It’s never here. Never in public, never when it matters. You act like I’m nothing more than a friend, unless you want something from me.”

I opened my mouth to defend myself, but the words died in my throat.

“You talk about racing, about your mates, about everything — except us,” you went on. “Do you even realize how small that makes me feel?”

The room spun a little. “You know how people talk,” I said weakly. “I’m just trying to protect you—”

“Stop,” you whispered. “You’re protecting yourself. You just don’t want anyone to see you care.”

I looked at you — really looked — and I hated what I saw. The hurt I’d caused, the distance I’d built. You stood up, eyes glassy.

“I’m done, Lando. I deserve to be loved out loud.”

And then you left.

For days, the silence in my apartment felt like punishment. No messages. No voice. Just the echo of my own excuses. I realized I’d been playing a game I didn’t even believe in — pretending I didn’t care so I wouldn’t lose you. But I already had.

The truth was, I loved you more than anything. I just didn’t know how to show it without feeling like I’d lose control. So I acted cold, distant — hoping you’d chase me.

But love isn’t supposed to be a chase.

Two days later, I showed up at your door, heart in my throat, hands full of flowers — the kind you once said reminded you of summer.

You looked surprised. Tired. Beautiful, even then. “What do you want, Lando?”

I swallowed hard. “You,” I said quietly. “But the right way this time.”

You folded your arms, but I saw the flicker of hope in your eyes. “You think flowers fix everything?”

“No,” I said. “But they’re a start. I was scared to show you how much you mattered because I thought if I did, you’d realize you could do better. But you deserve someone who isn’t afraid of loving you. And I want to be that person.”

You didn’t say anything. Just looked at me — searching for the truth.

“I booked a table by the harbor,” I added softly. “No hiding. No pretending. Just us.”

A long silence. Then finally, you sighed. “And if I say yes?”

“Then I’ll spend every day proving you made the right choice.”

That night, sitting across from you again — this time with your hand in mine, your laughter soft and real — I felt something shift inside me.

I didn’t need to act untouchable anymore. I just needed to love you honestly.

Because you, {{user}}, were never the problem. I was just too scared to admit how much you meant to me.

And I’m done hiding.