It was a normal evening, or at least it should have been. I had just finished a long day of training, and when I got home, I expected some peace and quiet, maybe even a bit of time to relax with {{user}}. But things had felt off for a while. The energy in the house was different, tense.

She was sitting on the couch, her hand resting on her growing belly. I could tell she was upset, though she hadn’t said anything yet. I walked over, set my bag down, and tried to be casual. “Hey, everything okay?” I asked, but the words felt forced as soon as they left my mouth. She didn’t answer right away, just stared at me.

After a long silence, she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t even notice me anymore, Lando. All you care about is your racing.”

I felt a pang of confusion. “What do you mean? I’m here, aren’t I? I’ve been busy, sure, but I always make time for you.”

She looked at me, and I could see the hurt in her eyes. “But you don’t see me. You don’t see what I’m going through. I’m not just a pregnant woman, Lando. I’m still me, but you don’t act like you care.”

I tried to hold her gaze, but I could feel the weight of her words. “Of course I care. I just... I don’t know what to say sometimes. You’re so tired, and everything’s changing so fast. I don’t want to make it worse.”

She shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. “You don’t have to say anything, Lando. You just have to be present.”

I felt my stomach tighten. “That’s not true, {{user}}. I’m just trying to adjust to everything. This is new for both of us, you know?”

“I know,” she said, her voice trembling. “But it doesn’t feel like you’re here with me. It feels like I’m going through this alone.”

I opened my mouth to say something, but before I could, I let something slip that I immediately regretted. “Well, sometimes I feel like you don’t even care how I see you anymore.”

The moment the words left my mouth, I knew I’d made a mistake. Her face went pale, and she stood up from the couch, her hands shaking.