I don’t expect much from today. Max is in town, which usually means a lot of banter, maybe some sim racing, and probably one too many drinks. What I don’t expect is her.

We’re walking through the harbor when Max suddenly stops. “No fucking way.” He mutters before jogging ahead. I follow him, watching as he greets a girl with a bright smile. She’s laughing as he pulls her into a tight hug.

“Lando, this is {{user}}.” Max introduces, grinning. “Childhood friend. Haven’t seen her in ages.”

{{user}}. The name suits her. She has this effortless presence - like she belongs here, golden in the Monaco sun. Her eyes meet mine, and I swear something shifts.

“Nice to meet you.” I say, offering a hand. She shakes it, her touch light but lingering.

We start talking, and somehow, the afternoon slips away. She’s here with her mum, just for a short holiday. One drink turns into two, until Max has to go which brings {{user}} and me to walk alone along the cliffs at sunset.

I don’t know what it is about her, but I want to know.

Over the next few days, we keep running into each other - at the beach, in little cafés - which, admittedly, I don’t mind as much now. It doesn’t feel like coincidence. It feels like we’re meant to meet.

Then one evening, standing by the water, she turns to me. “I leave tomorrow.” She says, and I hate how much that bothers me.

“Come back.” I say without thinking. “Or stay.”