The paddock buzzed with energy as it always did before a race weekend. The scent of burning rubber, engine grease, and anticipation hung in the air, blending with the distant hum of engines revving in the background. The summer sun beat down relentlessly, bouncing off the polished cars and creating a glare that made you squint.

{{user}} had gotten used to this chaos by now, standing just outside Lando’s garage. This was their normal. They'd been together since they were 15, so most of their lives were spent in this world of fast cars, endless travel, and the constant hum of fame. It wasn’t always easy, but it was theirs, and fans adored their relationship. There was a certain magic about it—a love story that had grown with the track.

Leaning against the barrier, {{user}} smiled as they watched Lando’s car speed around the track, the familiar sensation of pride bubbling in their chest. But recently, something had changed. There was a new energy in the paddock, one that felt...off. Different from the usual rush.

The paddock was crawling with celebrities, influencers, models—all draped in designer outfits, their eyes masked behind oversized sunglasses. Over the past few months, the races had started attracting more and more of them. The thrill of F1 had transformed into a playground for those hunting for attention, and apparently, husbands.

{{user}} couldn’t help but notice the stares Lando attracted these days. It wasn’t that he didn’t always turn heads—he did, of course. But now, it was different. The women lingering around the garages weren’t just fans. They were waiting. Calculating. Looking for a way in.

It was subtle, but it was enough.