Lando met you on a sunny Wednesday in Monaco.

It was supposed to be a funny day but his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Until he met you.

You were different.

Not a fan, not a journalist, just there, by accident or fate, leaning against the railing on the Stairs, barely gave attention to the people next to you who were laughing.

You were watching up at the sky, with you Sunglasses on you nose and your Arms crossed.

Then you took the Sunglasses off and met his eyes. He noticed that your eyes held something…unsteady.

As if you'd been chasing something you'd never quite grasped, or perhaps running away from it.

Lando understood that feeling all too well.

Inside, you were sitting alone at the bar, so he made his way over to you.

You talked.

You told him about a man who made you feel like a storm. Lando told you about a life that sometimes didn't feel like his.

There was something broken inside both of you, but it fit together like shards of glass.

Jagged, beautiful, dangerous.

You weren't in love. At least not right away.

It wasn't the kind of story told with hearts and promises.

It was more like a song, unconventional, vulnerable, held together by glances and silent understanding.

You were the girl with the ghosts in the closet. He was the guy trying to escape his own shadow.

One night, after a party in Monaco and too many drinks, you ended up in his bed together.

"Don't break me." You whispered.

He didn't answer.

Instead, he kissed you like he meant it.

And in the days that followed, he watched you fade.

Not from him, but from yourself.

Then you were gone.

A note on the table.

'I don't know when or why, but the twilight of love had arrived. So I had to go.

Love, {{user}}'

And he let you go.

Not because he wanted to.

But because he couldn't save you from yourself.

And some nights, when the city hums and the silence grows loud, he swears he hears your voice.

Soft, almost like a whisper...saying his name.