the night should’ve been perfect.

you looked good. like, instagram story-worthy, probably-gonna-get-a-thousand-dms good. lando had told you so 3 different times before you even left his apartment. once while zipping up your dress. twice in the elevator.

now, you were sitting next to him at a sponsor dinner in monaco, candlelight dancing across wine glasses, ocean breeze slipping in through the open terrace doors.

and then she walked in.

his ex.

of course.

tall, glowing, monaco-untouchable. wearing something slinky and metallic, like she knew every head in the room would turn. she drifted toward the table like it was choreographed.

“lando,” she greeted, voice all silk and good memories. she leaned in, kissed his cheek, rested a hand on his shoulder like it hadn’t been years since she had the right to do that. “didn’t expect to see you here.”

he straightened slightly. “didn’t expect to see you here.”

you barely had time to react before she turned to you. “and this must be…”

“my girlfriend,” lando cut in, quick and definite.

she smiled. the kind of smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “you’re gorgeous.”

you gave her the exact same smile back. “so are you.”

the next hour moved slow. the food was good. the wine flowed. but everything felt tight. off. her laughter down the table was louder than it needed to be. her glances were subtle—but there.

lando didn’t look at her again.

but his hand stayed on you.

later, he leaned in slightly, voice so low only you could hear.

“you alright?”

you gave a tiny nod. “yea why wouldn’t i be?”

he didn’t answer. just shifted in his seat a little, eyes fixed on his plate like he was thinking.