the atmosphere of the car ride home was tense. you sat in silence as you listened to lando’s remarks. he wasn’t trying to be cruel yet each jab felt perfectly aimed to wound you and hurt you. it was getting on your last never and you finally snapped.

“stop the car.” you demand, sitting in a small black dress, heels and denim jacket.

lando pulls the black mclaren to the side of the streets of monaco, turning to face you

“what?” he says.

“i’m walking home.” you snap, arms crossed.

“fine by me,” he mutters, leaning back in his seat. he obviously didn’t believe you and you needed to prove him wrong.