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Chapter 15: The Breaking Point
The race was intense. The final laps had been a blur of high-speed straights and sharp corners, the sound of the engines roaring in the backdrop of the packed grandstands. Lando was on the edge. This was his chance. He could feel the win within his reach. The finish line was almost there, and he could already picture himself crossing it, fist raised in victory, the cheers of the crowd ringing in his ears.
But then, just as he thought he had it in the bag, she appeared.
Cemre’s Red Bull surged ahead in the final corner, catching Lando off guard. The way she maneuvered, the precision in her moves, it was like she knew exactly what he was thinking. She passed him—just as he was about to cross the line. In a split second, Cemre's car swept past his, her Red Bull’s engine screaming as she claimed P1, crossing the finish line just ahead of him.
Lando’s heart dropped. He could hardly believe what had just happened. No... she didn’t...
His hands tightened around the steering wheel as he watched her car, far too close to his, disappear into the distance. The victory he had been so sure of now felt like a distant dream. All that was left was the bitter taste of defeat.
The cooldown lap felt like it lasted an eternity. Lando was shaking with anger, his chest tight. How dare she?
By the time he parked his car and stepped out, the anger inside him had consumed every last ounce of calm. His hands were still gripping the helmet in a white-knuckled fury, his jaw clenched so tight he could feel his teeth grinding.
He didn’t care about the fans. He didn’t care about the media. All he cared about was the woman who had just stolen his victory. The woman who was too damn good, who made him feel like everything he worked for—everything he was—wasn’t enough.
Without thinking, he marched toward the Red Bull garage, his eyes locked onto Cemre, who had just finished her own celebrations with her team. The crowd was buzzing, but it felt like the world had quieted to a dull roar in Lando’s mind.
He didn’t even notice the photographers snapping photos, or the murmurs from the nearby engineers and team members. All he could see was her—standing there, so damn cool and calm, as if she hadn’t just done the one thing he couldn’t let happen.
Lando was already a few steps away from her when he raised his helmet, his fingers gripping it tight. His breathing was shallow, his vision narrowing. He had never been this angry in his life. This wasn’t just about the race. It wasn’t just about the position or the points. It was about her taking something from him—something he felt was rightfully his.
The moment he reached her, he let the helmet fly from his hand.
Cemre didn’t see it coming.
The helmet sailed through the air with speed and precision, its trajectory aimed straight at her. But in that split second, Cemre did the one thing that saved her—she took a single, graceful step to the right.
The helmet flew past her, just missing her head by mere inches. Lando’s heart skipped a beat as he watched it hurtle past her, the sound of it skimming the air like an arrow. It crashed into the concrete behind her with a loud thud, the impact echoing through the garage.
For a moment, everything stood still. The world seemed to pause, the crowd silencing itself in a mix of shock and disbelief.
Cemre didn’t flinch. She didn’t scream. She just turned slowly to face him, her expression unreadable.
Lando’s chest was heaving, his breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps. His hands were still clenched, the adrenaline pumping through his veins. He was furious—fury that was bubbling over, spilling out, and it didn’t matter anymore. He wasn’t thinking about the consequences. He wasn’t thinking about anything except the fact that she had just stolen his chance at victory.
"You think you’re better than me?" Lando’s voice was a low growl, and there was venom in every word. His fists clenched tighter, his knuckles white against the anger that had taken over.
Cemre’s face didn’t change. Her eyes, calm and steady, locked with his. There was no fear in her gaze. No hint of retreat.
"I’m not interested in your drama, Lando," Cemre said coolly, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade. She didn’t raise her voice. She didn’t need to. Her calmness only made him feel more unhinged. "If you want to keep playing these games, go ahead. But I’m focused on racing, not your tantrums."
Lando’s fists tightened further, his body shaking with rage. He could feel the heat of the moment getting to him, could feel how out of control he was. This wasn’t him. This wasn’t how he usually acted. But the more he looked at her—the way she stood there, so composed, like she didn’t even care about the battle they had—something inside him snapped.
"You always think you’re so above it all, don’t you?" he spat, his voice trembling with fury. "You think you’re better than me, and you don’t even care that I’m still fighting for a place here. I’m not going anywhere, Cemre. You’re not the only one who can fight for this!"
Cemre didn’t move an inch. She stared at him, her gaze unwavering, as if everything he said didn’t even register. She stepped to the side, just slightly, and with a quiet sigh, she spoke.
"Look at yourself," she said, her tone steady but firm. "This isn’t about the race anymore. It’s about your ego. You need to check yourself before you make a bigger fool of yourself. I don’t have time for this."
With that, she turned and walked away, leaving Lando standing there, fuming with anger, frustration, and the sinking realization that the more he fought for her attention, the further she seemed to slip away.
The crowd had grown quiet. Lando could hear the murmurs behind him, the whispers of disbelief. But none of it mattered anymore. He was alone in his rage, and he had no idea how to fix it.
Chapter 16: The Weight of the Past
The aftermath of what happened in the garage had been immediate, the media frenzy an explosion of headlines that Lando couldn’t escape. It wasn’t just about the race anymore. It was about his actions—his anger, his reckless behavior—and how it had unfolded in front of the entire paddock.
The photos were everywhere: the helmet flying through the air, narrowly missing Cemre’s head, the cold confrontation, the fiery exchange between the two. The world had seen it all. The press wasted no time, painting him as the villain. The jealousy, the tantrum, the uncontrollable rage—it was all out in the open now.
But there was one detail that caught his eye more than the others.
"Lando Norris’ Outburst: Jealousy or Rivalry?"
The headline seemed to burn into his mind as he sat in his hotel room, reading through the various reports and commentary. Some of the articles speculated that his jealousy had been about the race, about the competition. But there were whispers that his frustration ran much deeper. They even referenced his complicated relationship with Cemre.
It made Lando’s skin crawl, the realization that everything he had done—everything that had built up to this moment—was out there for the world to dissect.
As the day wore on, Lando couldn’t escape the media storm. He tried to turn off his phone, but it buzzed relentlessly with notifications, messages from teammates, team principals, and even old friends. But it was one message from his mother that made him stop in his tracks.
"I know you’re upset, Lando, but don’t let your ego drive you like this. Think about it. Think about the past. You’ve always had a way of pushing people away, especially Cemre."
The words hit him like a punch to the gut.
He didn’t want to think about the past. He didn’t want to remember what he had done to her. But the more he tried to push it aside, the more memories came rushing back—memories that he had buried deep down, locked away in the darkest corners of his mind.
It started in kindergarten.
Lando remembered how he had always been the class clown, the one who loved the attention, the one who couldn’t stand anyone else getting too close to her. Cemre had always been different from the other kids. She was clever, serious—so serious, even back then. He had noticed her early on, how she would sit alone, her nose buried in a book, her brown eyes always so focused. He had wanted her attention. He had wanted to be the one who stood out in her eyes.
And then, one day, he overheard her talking to a friend. She had a crush on his best friend, Charlie.
Lando couldn’t stand it. Why not him? Why wasn’t it him? He had been the one who always made everyone laugh, always kept people entertained. But Cemre? She hadn’t looked at him the way she looked at Charlie. It made his stomach twist with jealousy. So, without thinking—without caring about the consequences—he had blurted it out to the entire class.
“Guess what?” Lando had said, smugly, to everyone around him. “Cemre likes Charlie! She has a crush on him! She’s totally into him.”
He had laughed as the other kids turned to stare at Cemre, who had flushed red, embarrassed beyond belief. She had avoided him for days after that, and Lando had felt a twisted sense of satisfaction in knowing that she was upset.
He had won. He had forced her to look at him, even if it was through humiliation.
As they grew older, Lando’s behavior only worsened. In elementary school, Lando continued to play the same game. Whenever he saw Cemre getting close to any of the other kids, he did whatever he could to drive them apart. He would spread rumors, tell lies, twist the truth—anything to make her feel like she had nowhere else to go but to look at him. To need him.
He didn’t care if he made her miserable. As long as he was the one she relied on, the one who had her attention, his ego was satisfied.
When they moved into middle school, things escalated. Lando had grown more popular, more outgoing. He had people around him, a group of friends who looked up to him. And there was Cemre, still that serious, clever girl who didn’t care about popularity or fitting in. She didn’t seek attention. She didn’t need it.
Lando had hated that. He didn’t want anyone else to get close to her, to take her away from him. And so, he did everything he could to isolate her. He spread more rumors, turned people against her, made sure that anyone who might have become her friend would eventually see her as someone they couldn’t trust.
She had to need him. He convinced himself it was for her own good. She didn’t belong with those people, not when she could be with him.
In high school, his manipulation continued, but it wasn’t just about isolating her anymore. Lando’s jealousy had turned into something darker, something more possessive. He would make sure she knew that no one else could stand in his way. He would flirt with other girls just to make her notice. He would do anything to get under her skin—to remind her that he was the one who was supposed to matter in her life.
And then came karting. He could still remember those days like it was yesterday—when the two of them were just teenagers, battling it out on the track. But even then, Lando’s need to be the center of her world didn’t stop. He made sure everyone on the track knew not to like her, not to support her. Every time she made a move to get better, he made sure to push her down.
Her success couldn’t be greater than his. Her victories were a threat to his ego. He couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else—least of all her—being better than him.
Lando’s hands trembled as he stared at the message from his mom. He had built his entire life around this need for attention, this obsession with being the best, being the one that people looked to. But now, as he thought about it—about how he had torn apart every connection she tried to make—he couldn’t escape the reality of his actions.
Cemre had never been a rival.
She had always been someone he wanted to possess. Someone he wanted to break just to make himself feel better.
And now, seeing her friendship with George and Oscar, Lando couldn’t bear it. They weren’t just friends to her. They were the ones who understood her, the ones who could see her for who she really was.
Lando had spent years making sure she didn’t see anyone else.
And now, as he stared at his phone, he knew there was no going back. The damage was done. He had hurt her beyond measure, and there was no way to fix it.
How does this emotional depth feel for Lando’s reflection on his past actions?
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