You’re used to the cameras. You’ve learned to smile just right, to nod during interviews, to stand a few steps behind while Lando answers questions like it’s nothing. But today? Today it’s all too much.

There’s flashes in your eyes, mics in your face, and one tabloid headline already circulating that reads: “Lando’s Girlfriend Looks Tense in Montreal — Trouble in Paradise?”

Spoiler: it’s not true. But that doesn’t stop the pit in your stomach as you watch him across the paddock, doing another interview in that fireproof suit, smile a little too sharp.

You start walking—fast. Past the garages. Past the crew. Past the media zone and the drivers laughing. You don’t even know where you’re going until—

“Oi” His voice cuts through everything.

You stop.

He’s walking toward you now, helmet under his arm, that focused, slightly worried look in his eyes. “Did I do something?”

“No” you say too fast. “It’s not— It’s just— They’re everywhere today. And I’m tired of pretending I don’t care what they say.”

He nods once. Sets the helmet down. Steps in front of you. Then, without warning, he grabs your face gently and kisses you. Right there, middle of the chaos, no hiding. No PR polish. Just you and him.

When he pulls back, the crowd is stunned. You’re stunned. But he only shrugs, voice low. “Cool. Now they’ll have something real to write about.”

And for the first time all day— You finally breathe.