FOOLISH ONE - LANDO NORRIS
Lando Norris x Fem!Reader
SUMMARY: A casual situationship between Y/N and Lando slowly spirals into something far more complicated than either of them ever expected. What began without clear intentions starts to blur into something emotionally charged and impossible to ignore. Between moments of closeness, distance that lingers too long and impulsive choices they can’t take back, they find themselves trapped in a cycle they don’t know how to break. As boundaries fade and feelings surface in ways they never planned for, both are forced to confront a connection that no longer fits the rules they once set for themselves.
WC: 10K
masterlist
“I’m not looking for a serious relationship right now — not with you, not with anyone. I only want something casual, and if that’s not something you’re comfortable with, then I think it’s best if we just stay friends.”
Hearing those words from Lando Norris shouldn’t have triggered any reaction in me, because from the very beginning of our “situationship,” I had known perfectly well that nothing serious could ever exist between us. Never.
So why did it feel like someone had shot me straight through the heart? Because I was an idiot, that was the harsh truth.
“Don’t worry, I’m fully aware of that.”
The small smile I gave him never reached my eyes.
Lando let out a quiet breath of relief before leaning in to kiss me, relieved that he could still keep me by his side with no conditions, no complaints, no labels. Completely willing to keep crawling back into his bed.
We were celebrating his twenty-sixth birthday at a club in Monaco. The next day, he had to leave for the United States to prepare for his race in Las Vegas. The championship was almost over, and Lando was the clear favorite to win it, so right now all of his energy was focused on that.
I excused myself to the bathroom because I couldn’t handle the pressure building in my chest anymore. The moment I walked in, all I could do was stare at myself in the mirror, thinking about how pathetic I was.
How could I've ever thought that someone like Lando would want a serious relationship with me? He had never given me false hope. I was the one who built those fantasies in my head, so there was no one to blame but myself.
I took a few deep breaths while staring at my anxiety-ridden reflection in the mirror. At no point had I imagined things would end up like this when, almost ten months ago, we’d ended up having sex in the backseat of his car.
We’d known each other for years. We weren’t friends — just acquaintances. Every now and then we’d have a conversation or two, but nothing particularly meaningful. Until that damned day when we both ended up at the same party, and the chemistry between us while we danced was so intense it practically sparked.
The most logical thing after that was to fuck like rabbits and keep doing it on a regular basis and somehow, that’s how we ended up here tonight.
With Lando making it painfully clear for the first time that he wanted absolutely nothing from me beyond sex — all because I hadn’t liked the way he openly let someone else flirt with him right in front of me.
I pulled myself together as best as I could and went back to where Lando and his friends were sitting.
“Let’s go home,” Lando whispered into my ear the second I sat down beside him.
His hand tightened slightly around my thigh. I already knew exactly what that meant. And like the idiot I was, all I could do was nod before following him out to his car.
(…)
Days passed, but that small thorn of dissatisfaction left behind by my conversation with Lando never really went away.
I tried to keep myself as busy as possible so I wouldn’t think about it, but eventually night would come, and once I was alone in my room, I couldn’t run from those thoughts anymore.
I felt like the most insignificant person in the world. How had I let myself get to the point where a man could treat me like this? Being in love was one thing, but I needed to face reality once and for all.
The problem was that every time I became determined to end things for good, Lando would come back with that smile and those beautiful eyes, and suddenly I’d find myself thinking: I’ll leave him next weekend.
I hated myself after every encounter, because I always ended up worse than before — desperate, with my heart lodged somewhere in my throat.
It was Sunday night, and I was getting ready for bed when a message from him popped up on my phone.
LANDO: You awake?
ME: Kind of.
ME: How was your weekend?
LANDO: Terrible. We got disqualified from the race.
ME: What???
LANDO: Yeah. I'll call you in five minutes.
Immediately, I searched online to see what had happened. I'd completely disconnected from everything that weekend and hadn't paid much attention to Lando's race.
The first headline read: NORRIS AND PIASTRI DISQUALIFIED FROM THE LAS VEGAS GP AFTER MCLAREN CARS FAILED POST-RACE INSPECTION.
Shit.
My phone started ringing, and Lando's name appeared on the screen. My heart immediately began to race.
"Hello?"
"Y/N. It's good to hear your voice. We haven't talked much these past few days."
"Lando, I just saw what happened. I'm really sorry. I know you needed those points."
I tried to sound sympathetic, Lando let out a long sigh.
"Yeah. The gap between Verstappen and me isn't that big anymore. Hopefully the next race goes better."
"I know how badly you want to win the championship. I hope things improve."
"Yeah, me too. But I actually called to see how you're doing. We haven't talked much lately, and I know things might feel a little weird after our conversation that day, but..." He paused. "You matter to me. I don't want you to pull away."
My cheeks flushed, and I shifted uncomfortably against the mattress. Talking about that conversation was the last thing I wanted to do.
"Yeah, don't worry about it. Like I told you that day, I understand where you stand on all of this, so you can relax."
Lando exhaled softly.
"I'm glad. Because, you're like a ray of sunshine in my life, and I don't want you to stop being part of it."
A couple of tears slipped down my cheeks. How could he say something like that after everything? Right now, I should have felt angry. Outraged, even. But for a pathetic girl hopelessly in love like me, all those words did was make my heart melt a little more.
"You looked good in the picture you posted today."
My cheeks warmed further.
"I wish you were here," he continued. "I miss having you around."
The pre-Lando's birthday version of me would have smiled at those insinuations, but now they only left a bitter taste in my mouth. Because after his birthday, I couldn't ignore reality anymore. Lando didn't miss me. He missed what I represented. The easy girl who was always willing to give him her love, her attention, and her company.
"I'm sure you do," I replied flatly.
Lando went quiet for a moment.
"Are you okay?" he asked, sounding genuinely confused.
"Yeah. Of course."
"You sound different. Your tone changed all of a sudden."
"I'm just tired."
"Okay..." Another pause. "Then I'll let you get some sleep."
Without waiting for my response, he hung up. It felt strange not immediately meeting Lando's emotional needs the moment he expressed them. For the first time since our little situationship started, I wasn't acting as his consolation prize.
And I wasn't sure how to feel about that.
From then on, our conversations followed the same pattern. Lando would text me expecting me to drop everything and devote all my attention and sympathy to him and his problems, only to run into a wall of excuses and clipped replies.
After a few days, he seemed to give up. As if he'd decided I was no longer worth the effort. It felt like a punch straight to my already wounded heart. It was the first time I'd felt distance from him. Or maybe it was because I was finally beginning to understand how easy it was for him to live without me.
A few weeks after that call, Lando was already preparing for Abu Dhabi.
The final race of the season. His chance to become World Champion. It was the most important weekend of his career, and everyone was going to be there.
His family, friends, the people who mattered the most to him.
I waited for an invitation. One that never came.
At first, I convinced myself he was simply too busy. Then I told myself I probably shouldn't have expected anything in the first place.
Soon, Instagram stories started appearing.
Our mutual friends looked happy, proud, excited for him and among all the people accompanying him was the girl who had flirted with him that night in Monaco. Of course she was there.
I had known something like this would happen the moment I stopped giving him my undivided, almost humiliating level of attention, he'd simply move on to the next person.
And of course it would be her, the girl I'd spent months trying not to be jealous of.
A knot formed in my stomach, I knew I had no right to feel that way.
Lando wasn't my boyfriend, he never had been. He had made that painfully clear. So why did it feel like rejection? Why did it feel like I had just received confirmation that I didn't belong—and never truly had belonged—in his life? Why did I feel so replaceable?
That Sunday, I watched the race from my apartment.
I watched him cross the finish line, lift the trophy and celebrate, surrounded by everyone he loved.
And I just couldn't feel happy for him.
Because as I watched that celebration unfold, reality hit me once again. If I disappeared from his life tomorrow, nothing would change for him.
But if he disappeared from mine, my entire world would fall apart.
And that was exactly what was happening.
(...)
The weeks after Abu Dhabi passed in a strange sort of haze.
I congratulated him on his victory, of course I did.
My heart was shattered, but he was still my friend. Beyond our complicated relationship, I knew I cared about him in a way that would never completely disappear.
Lando replied, happy and relieved, like whatever had been going on with me was finally over.
Or that's probably what he thought, because our communication slipped right back into place as if nothing had happened.
Sometimes Lando texted.
Sometimes he didn't.
Some nights he'd call me out of nowhere, and we'd spend an hour talking about absolutely nothing. Then he'd disappear for three days.
It was torture for both me and my sanity because every time I started feeling better, he'd come back with one of his random messages.
Every time I managed to move forward, he'd remind me why I couldn't.
I was trapped.
The worst part was knowing he wasn't doing it on purpose.
To him, this was normal.
To him, I was still there—available, waiting for him.
Whatever had happened between us during those past few weeks was probably nothing more than an emotional slump in his eyes. Something that had affected me more than it should have and made me act unlike myself.
Unlike the Y/N he knew.
One Friday night, my friend Saima finally got tired of listening to me talk about it.
"You're coming out with me."
"I don't want to," I refused immediately.
"That wasn't a suggestion."
So I went, because it was easier to remove Saima's head than one of her ideas.
I spent nearly two hours getting ready, trying to convince myself I was excited. Trying to convince myself I wasn't checking my phone every five minutes with the secret hope that Lando would text me.
By the time I was done, I looked beautiful. Saima let out a loud whistle the moment she saw me, and all I could do was laugh.
When we arrived at the club, it was packed. The music was deafening, and the heat was almost unbearable.
For the first hour, surprisingly, I managed to enjoy myself.
Dancing had always been therapeutic for me, it was the quickest way to flood my body with serotonin. I was having such a good time that I even forgot to check my phone for a while.
Then I saw him.
Dressed head to toe in black, standing by the bar with a few of his friends, laughing without a care in the world.
My heart leapt.
Warmth spread through my chest, and I took a step toward him when I finally noticed the rest of the scene. One of Lando's arms was wrapped around a blonde girl who was laughing hysterically beside him.
Her.
The girl.
My smile vanished instantly.
God, I was pathetic.
Such an idiot.
I didn't know why I kept placing my hopes on a man who had made it painfully clear that he didn't take me seriously.
A man who only saw me as temporary entertainment, as a shoulder to cry on. Someone he could use whenever he felt lonely, then toss aside the moment he no longer needed her—like a shirt thrown into a laundry basket, only to be picked up again whenever he felt miserable enough.
I decided not to stay and watch any longer. I'd had enough. My feelings were practically begging for mercy.
So I turned around and walked away, trying my best to forget the person I was leaving behind.
(...)
That night, I didn't sleep for a single minute.
After leaving the party, I returned to my apartment and sat on the edge of my bed for hours, staring blankly at a spot on the white wall.
Thinking about how ridiculous I felt, how stupid I'd been. It was obvious that Lando felt no responsibility to protect my feelings, he'd made that clear, maybe not through his words, but certainly through his actions.
I was exhausted from spending months trapped in the exact same cycle. A constant swing between extremes, one day I was happy because he'd called. The next three, I was miserable because he'd disappeared.
One week, I convinced myself that maybe he was beginning to feel something for me because of the way he treated me, because of how special he made me feel. The following week, I'd be trying to come to terms with the fact that he was probably sharing his bed with someone else.
I couldn't do it anymore.
For the first time, my mind and my heart were in complete agreement. Both of them were begging me to end this.
When the sun finally began to rise, I threw on a jacket and left my apartment.
I didn't even know where I was going. I just knew I needed to get out of there before I lost my mind. I needed to stop feeling like I was drowning.
I walked for almost two hours, mostly in circles. Monaco wasn't nearly large enough to wander aimlessly for that long, but I didn't care.
At that hour, the streets were quiet.
Monte Carlo was only beginning to wake up.
And then I saw it.
A church.
I couldn't remember the last time I'd stepped inside one.
I pushed the door open because it felt like something was calling me.
The interior was almost empty. There was no service and no one seemed to be inside. Just the faint scent of incense and the soft glow of burning candles. The kind of peace I hadn't felt in a very long time lingered in the air and that was enough to break me.
I sat down in one of the last pews and cried.
I cried in a way I hadn't cried in years.
I cried for everything.
For the ten months I'd spent waiting for something that was never going to happen. For every time I'd settled for crumbs because I was afraid of losing him. For every moment I'd pretended I was okay. For every night I'd stared at my phone waiting for a message. For every single time I'd felt like I wasn't enough.
I cried until I was exhausted.
As if something I'd been carrying inside me for far too long had finally been released.
I rested my elbows on my knees and buried my face in my hands.
"What am I doing?" I whispered.
My voice sounded strange in that place.
"What am I doing to myself?"
Because that was the real question.
Not what Lando was doing.
Not what he felt.
Not who he was with.
What was I doing? Why was I still allowing one person to define my happiness? Why was I still giving him the power to destroy me whenever he wanted? Why was I still expecting love from someone who had told me, clearly and honestly, that he couldn't give it to me?
The silence offered no answer.
So I continued my desperate plea.
"God, if you exist somewhere beyond all of this... if that man isn't meant for me, please help me get him out of my heart. Help me forget he exists. Give me the strength I need not to fall back into this."
I felt so small.
So foolish.
Yet a laugh escaped me as I looked up at the enormous stained-glass windows.
How could anyone claim to understand love if they'd never begged a higher power to help them stop feeling it?
After a few minutes, I finally pulled myself together. Mentally, I gave myself a few well-deserved slaps. I had to stop blaming other people for why I felt so miserable.
Lando wasn't a bad person. He had never lied to me, never promised me anything. His behavior could be morally questionable at times, sure. But at the end of the day, he had never forced me into anything.
I was the one who stayed.
I was the one who kept waiting.
I was the one who kept breaking myself apart piece by piece.
And if I wanted the suffering to end, then I had to be the one who walked away.
The realization was so simple it almost made me laugh. For months, I'd been searching for some complicated solution when the answer had always been the same.
I had to let him go. Not because I didn't love him but precisely because I loved him too much and I was losing myself in the process.
I remained there for several more minutes, sitting quietly.
The pain was still there, it would probably remain for a long time, but something had changed. Because for the first time, I wasn't thinking about how to make Lando choose me.
I was thinking about choosing myself.
And when I finally stood up to leave, I made a decision.
I wasn't going back.
It was over.
Truly over.
Even if it broke my heart.
Even if it took me months to move on.
Even if I still loved him.
It was over.
For the first time in a very long time, as I walked out of that church, I felt like I could finally breathe.
(...)
The first few days were easier than I expected.
Not because I didn't miss him, I missed him constantly. I missed him whenever my phone buzzed. Whenever I saw something funny that I normally would have sent him. Whenever I woke up in the middle of the night and had to fight the urge to text him.
But for the first time, all the pain had a purpose.
This time, I wasn't suffering to keep him, I was suffering to let him go and there was a world of difference between the two.
Three days after that morning in the church, Lando called me.
I stared at the glowing screen for several seconds. Normally, I would have answered before the second ring.
This time, I let it ring until it stopped.
A minute later, a message came through.
LANDO: Everything okay?
I stared at the words.
A simple question. Nothing extraordinary.
And yet, I felt like crying.
Because for months I had been waiting for something like this. Something that showed I occupied space in his mind too. Unfortunately, now that I finally had it, it wasn't enough anymore.
ME: Yeah. Everything's fine.
His reply came almost instantly.
LANDO: You sure?
ME: Yeah. Why wouldn't it be?
After that, he didn't text again.
Strangely enough, I was the one who sat there staring at the conversation, waiting for more.
But nothing came.
Because that's how it had always been.
Lando appeared.
Lando disappeared.
And for ten months, I had allowed my happiness to depend on that.
Not anymore.
At least that's what I kept telling myself.
Stay strong, you'll get through this.
A week later, he called again.
I didn't answer.
Two days after that, he texted.
I didn't reply.
Then he sent a meme.
Then a picture of a dog.
Then a screenshot of something ridiculous he'd found online. As if he was testing the waters, trying to find a door back in.
I replied hours later. Sometimes the next day. Sometimes I didn't reply at all.
And I started to notice he seemed uncomfortable. Because dynamics change quickly when one person stops chasing.
"Are you mad at me?" he asked during a call I eventually accepted one evening.
"No." I delivered the answer in the calmest, most relaxed tone I could manage.
"Then you're acting weird," he concluded.
I closed my eyes.
Before, I would have rushed to reassure him. I would have explained myself. I would have done everything possible to convince him that everything was fine. But I no longer felt like putting that kind of effort into someone who had never been willing to do the same for me.
"Maybe I'm just busy."
The silence on the other end lasted several seconds.
"You were never too busy for me."
The words left his mouth before he could stop them. I knew it immediately and so did he.
You were never too busy for me.
As if I belonged to him. As if my availability had become such a natural constant in his life that he'd never even noticed it until it was gone.
"Goodnight, Lando."
I hung up.
That night was the first time I cried without wanting to go back. The first time I cried and still felt proud of myself.
Because every day away from him still hurt, but it hurt a little less.
And that meant something, that was progress.
A small victory that earned myself a quiet pat on the back.
(...)
Lando started noticing the change even harder.
He noticed when I stopped being the first person to view his stories. He noticed when I started going out more. He noticed when our friends mentioned my name and he no longer knew what I was doing. He noticed when he stopped being the center of my world.
And he didn't like it one bit.
"Where were you last night?" he asked during a phone call.
I frowned.
"Excuse me?"
"I saw that you went out."
"Yeah." I didn't deny it because, honestly, why the hell did he care?
"With who?"
The question made me freeze.
For months, I'd wanted to be someone who had the right to ask things like that and he'd reminded me over and over again that I wasn't.
"Friends."
"What friends?" he pressed, trying to squeeze every piece of information he could out of me.
"Why do you care?"
The silence was immediate.
"Just asking."
Bullshit.
We both knew it.
After hanging up, I stared at my screen for several seconds, trying to make sense of this new feeling that had appeared amid all the chaos.
Confusion.
Because something was changing.
And it wasn't me.
It was him.
The following weeks were strange.
Lando started showing up everywhere.
At one point I genuinely wondered if I needed to go back to that church and repeat my prayer because apparently my request hadn't been clear enough.
He commented on my posts. Replied to stories he normally would've ignored. Started conversations over the most ridiculous excuses.
A video.
A meme.
A random news article.
Anything.
Every time I took too long to answer, he'd push a little harder, trying to get a response out of me one way or another. He wasn't aggressive but he was starting to seem desperate. Like someone trying to hold water between their fingers.
Meanwhile, I kept moving forward.
Slowly.
With setbacks.
With difficult nights.
But forward nonetheless.
Then one afternoon, I received a text from him.
One that felt completely different from the casual, almost indifferent messages he'd been sending before.
LANDO: Can we meet?
My heart stumbled.
For months, I'd dreamed of receiving that text.
For months, I would've dropped everything and run to him.
But I was trying not to be that person anymore.
ME: What for?
His response took several minutes.
LANDO: I just want to talk.
Lies or at least a half-truth. Because Lando had never been the kind of person who wanted to talk. Lando always wanted to avoid uncomfortable conversations.
And yet, I still agreed to meet him.
Maybe because a part of me needed to find out if I was really capable of doing it. If I was truly capable of saying no.
(...)
We met at a small café.
It was beautiful, discreet, and quiet.
I arrived first, as always, and during the ten minutes I spent waiting, I seriously considered getting up and leaving.
Then he arrived and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe.
Because it was Lando.
And because despite all my efforts, he still had exactly the same effect on me.
A smile spread across his face the moment he saw me.
"Hi."
"Hi," I replied.
He sat down across from me, the silence between us felt uncomfortable.
Almost suffocating.
Lando looked nervous. So nervous that it caught me off guard, I'd never seen Lando nervous around me. In fact, one of the things he'd always liked about being with me was that there was no pressure and no expectations.
"So..." he began. "What's going on?"
I blinked.
"What's going on with me?" I asked, confused.
"Yeah."
A small, disbelieving laugh escaped me.
"You asked me to meet you so you could ask me that?"
"I've spent weeks trying to figure out what's wrong."
"Nothing's wrong."
"Yes, there is."
His answer came immediately.
"You barely reply to my messages anymore."
"Because I'm busy," I said, as if it were obvious.
"You were busy before, too."
"Before was different." The words escaped before I could stop them.
We both heard them and we both understood exactly what they meant.
Lando's expression tightened.
"Is this still about my birthday?"
Something inside me cracked. For him, it had been one conversation. For me, it had been the beginning of the end. A humiliation I was still recovering from.
"No," I said quietly. "This is about the last ten months."
Lando fell silent.
"I can't keep doing this."
"Doing what?" The question made me stare at him.
It seems like he genuinely didn't understand.
"Waiting for you."
For the first time, he had no answer ready.
"I never asked you to wait for me."
The words landed between us—heavy, painful, casually cruel.
Exactly the kind of thing Lando said when he was being completely honest. I nodded slowly, feeling like someone had just put a bullet through my chest.
"I know."
And that was the problem, he had never asked anything of me. I had given everything willingly.
My time.
My heart.
My dignity, sometimes.
Everything.
"Then I don't understand."
"Because you never had to."
Frustration finally appeared on his face.
"Then explain it to me."
I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself, I didn't want to cry. I just wanted this conversation to end so I could go back to rebuilding my life.
"I love you, Lando."
The silence was absolute.
"And I'm tired of it."
I said it so casually that his eyes widened instantly.
Like the confession had caught him completely off guard.
"I can't keep seeing you because every single time I do, I end up hoping for something that is never going to happen."
Lando still didn't speak.
"So this is it."
"What does that mean?" He asked.
"It means it's over."
Not once did my voice shake. I mentally congratulated myself for that.
Lando's expression changed immediately.
"No."
The answer came so fast that I was left in a little shock.
"No?"
"No, you can't just..."
He stopped, frowning as he searched for the right words.
"Just what?"
"Disappear."
My heart stumbled.
For months, I had been the only one terrified of losing him and now, it seemed like he was feeling a fraction of that fear.
"I'm not disappearing."
"That's exactly what it feels like."
I looked at him carefully, he seem genuinely upset.
Not heartbroken.
Not devastated.
Upset.
Like someone who had just lost something he'd always taken for granted.
"I'm sorry." I didn't know what else to say.
"I don't want you to do this." The plea in his voice was so faint it was almost nonexistent.
Almost.
But it was there and that was exactly what made it hurt more. For months, I would've given anything to hear him say those words.
Now they had arrived far too late.
"Goodbye, Lando."
I stood up.
This time, I was the one who walked away.
I didn't look back.
Not because I was strong. But because I knew that if I did, I might not have the courage to keep walking.
(...)
During the first few days after my disastrous confession, nothing happened. No messages, no calls, no memes, not even a reaction to my stories.
Nothing.
At first, I felt relieved because it was what I wanted, wasn't it? I had fought for months to get to this point. I had prayed for this. I had cried for this.
So why did I feel such an unbearable emptiness?
The first few days, I kept myself busy. I went out with Saima, worked more hours than necessary, read books, watched shows. I even became one of those insufferable people who go running in the mornings.
I did anything that could keep my mind occupied, but there were moments that were impossible to avoid. Like finding a funny video and automatically opening Instagram to send it to him. Or reading a Formula 1 article and immediately thinking of him. Or waking up in the middle of the night and reaching for my phone before remembering there was no longer anyone waiting for me on the other side.
It was humiliating how, after everything that had happened, my brain was still looking for him while he was already gone.
Two weeks passed.
Then three.
Then a month.
A whole month without hearing anything from Lando.
Little by little, I began to understand that forgetting him was so difficult because I had turned him into a habit. I wasn't just trying to forget a person—I was trying to break an addiction.
One that was almost impossible to recover from, because Lando was everywhere.
In my routine.
In my thoughts.
In my reflexes.
In the empty spaces of my day.
And even though it hurt a little less each week, it still hurt.
One night, I even found myself scrolling through his profile. His latest post had been uploaded three days earlier. It had thousands of comments and thousands of likes from girls.
And there I was, staring at a screen like an idiot.
I closed Instagram immediately because I knew myself too well, and I knew that if I kept looking, I would never manage to leave.
The weeks kept passing.
And then something started happening that, at that point, I never thought would happen. At first, it was so subtle that I thought it was a coincidence.
One morning, I posted a picture of my coffee.
Two minutes later, I got a notification.
He had liked it.
I stared at the screen, trying to convince myself it didn't mean anything, because it probably didn't mean anything.
But the next day it happened again.
And the day after that too.
Then he started appearing in my stories and liking every single one of them.
He didn't reply.
He didn't text.
He didn't start conversations.
He was simply there, watching every one of them like a shadow, like someone standing on the other side of a closed door. Every time it happened, I would stare at the screen for several seconds, something in my chest telling me that it wasn't a coincidence.
Because I knew Lando.
Lando had never been a persistent man. If something drifted away from him, he usually let it go.
But now he was doing the opposite.
He wasn't trying to come back in.
Not yet.
He was making sure I knew he was still there.
The feeling followed me all week, it was as if I could feel him slowly getting closer, without a rush, with no pressure and without saying a single word.
But making one thing very clear: He hadn't disappeared.
And he wasn't willing to let me disappear so easily either.
(...)
Almost six weeks had passed since our conversation at the café.
Since I said goodbye.
And since my life had become a constant battle between missing him and convincing myself that I was better off without him.
It didn't always work, but at least I was still moving forward. Until Saima ruined everything.
"No."
I refused immediately.
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes."
She insisted again, crossing her arms.
I looked at her from the couch.
"I don't want to go."
"Perfect. Because I wasn't asking."
I hated when she went into dictator mode.
"Saima..."
I sighed.
"You've spent a month emotionally locking yourself inside your apartment. You're coming."
"I go out every day."
"Buying groceries doesn't count."
"I go running."
"That's the number one sign that you need to get out more."
I hated her.
I hated her so much.
And unfortunately, she was also right.
That's how I ended up getting ready that night, because surrendering was easier than arguing with her for two hours.
The plan seemed harmless, a gathering between friends, just drinks, music, and familiar faces. Exactly the kind of situation where nobody could get hurt.
I was so wrong.
Because the moment I stepped through the penthouse door, I saw him.
Apparently the universe still enjoyed making fun of me.
His back was turned toward me while he talked to Max and Oscar. He was wearing a simple black shirt and white pants, nothing special, nothing extraordinary.
And yet my body reacted like I had seen a ghost.
"Shit."
Saima shot me a look.
"Don't tell me..."
"Yeah."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
"Well."
"Well?"
"At least you look amazing."
I wanted to strangle her.
I tried to stay away.
I talked to other people.
Avoided looking in his direction.
Avoided even hearing his voice.
But it was impossible, because the harder I tried to ignore him, the more aware I became of him.
His laughter.
His movements.
His presence.
And the way he always seemed to know exactly where I was.
It was ridiculous. Every time I looked up, I ended up catching him staring at me.
Not for long, not enough for anyone else to notice.
Just one second, maybe two. Then he'd look away as if nothing had happened, as if it had all been my imagination.
The first person from his circle who approached me was Oscar.
"Hey."
I smiled.
"Hey."
"Haven't seen you in a while."
"Yeah."
My voice was barely above a whisper.
"Lando's unbearable."
I laughed.
"What did he do now?"
"Exist."
I laughed again, and Oscar joined me. I'd always liked talking to him. He was calm, observant, and far too intelligent to miss details.
Which was exactly why I got nervous when he tilted his head slightly.
"You okay?"
"Yeah."
"Liar." He narrowed his eyes.
I sighed.
"Oscar..."
"I'm not going to ask." He raised his hands in surrender.
"Thank you." I breathed out in relief.
"But you should know he doesn't seem to be doing great either."
My heart made an unpleasant leap.
"I don't want to talk about him."
"Then I won't."
And he kept his word. But the comment stayed in my head for the rest of the night.
Later, I ended up sitting next to Max.
It was impossible not to like Max, he had that irresponsible older-brother energy that made everyone feel comfortable.
"You disappeared."
It was the first thing out of his mouth.
"Me?"
I played dumb.
"Yeah, you."
"I think everyone disappears sometimes." I tried to sound casual.
"Not as much as you."
He watched me for a few seconds and smiled.
"But I probably understand why."
Damn it. Did everyone know something I didn't?
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing."
"Max."
He shrugged, trying to play it off, but the little smile on his lips said otherwise.
"Nothing."
I didn't push it. Instead, I went to grab another drink and as I turned a corner, I almost collided with someone.
With him.
My footsteps froze.
So did his.
For a few seconds, nobody said anything. Because suddenly there were no conversations, no music, no people, just us.
And I hated discovering that I still felt exactly the same.
"Hey."
His voice was soft.
"Hey."
Lando studied me for a few moments, as if checking something, as if making sure I was really there.
"You look good."
Damn it.
"Thanks."
"Much better than the last time."
My breath faltered, we both knew what the last time had been.
The café, the goodbye, the ending or what was supposed to be the ending.
"I'm glad it looks that way." My voice gave away nothing.
Still, a small smile appeared at the corner of his lips. But he didn't look happy, he looked tense.
And that confused me, because, again, Lando never showed that side around me.
"I've missed you."
My heart dropped without warning.
Those words weren't a romantic declaration nor a confession. But they sounded sincere.
I swallowed hard.
"Lando..."
"I'm not trying to argue."
He interrupted me before I could finish.
"Okay."
"Or convince you of anything."
I didn't believe him. Because we both knew he wasn't trying to convince me with words, he was doing it with his presence. With the subtle way he kept appearing, with the likes, the glances and everything he never said out loud.
"I just wanted you to know..."
I looked at him, feeling something strange in the pit of my stomach. Something that told me what I hadn't wanted to admit for days, Lando wasn't going to let me go.
Not because he was in love, certainly not because he wanted a relationship, but because I had become an important part of his life.
A constant safe place and now that he was losing it, he was fighting against it.
In his own way.
Without admitting it, without even fully understanding it himself.
But he was fighting, and that was exactly what made him so dangerous for me. Because part of me still wanted to stay, I still wanted to believe, I still wanted to run back to him.
When I finally managed to walk away from that conversation, I found Saima watching me from across the room with a worried expression and I couldn't hide the devastation on my face from her.
Leaving Lando behind had been difficult when he was indifferent. But it was going to be so much worse now that he had decided to stay close.
Now that he seemed incapable of accepting my absence.
Now that every time I took a step forward... he took one right behind me.
(...)
Everything started going to hell again. Naturally. Because my life didn't seem to speak any language other than chaos.
It was a party at a villa near the harbor, nothing particularly formal. Just friends enjoying music and alcohol, along with a handful of rich people pretending they weren't rich. Saima had dragged me there once again, and I'd agreed because, lately, I'd actually been... happy.
Lando had spent nearly two hours by my side, talking, joking, doing exactly what he'd been doing for the past months. Like nothing had change.
Then she arrived and it felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over my head.
I recognized her immediately. The girl from Abu Dhabi, the same girl who had appeared in all those Instagram Stories, the one who had unknowingly spent months haunting me. She walked in with part of Lando's friend group, as if she belonged there.
The worst part was watching the way she greeted him—with so much familiarity, so much confidence. I tried to ignore it, I really did. I tried to be mature and remind myself that I had no claim over him.
But it was impossible.
A few minutes later, she ended up beside me and smiled.
"You're Y/N, right?"
My stomach tightened.
"Yeah."
"I've finally met you."
Something in her tone made me uncomfortable.
"Finally?"
"Lando talks about you a lot."
My heart stumbled for a fraction of a second.
Until she smiled again and then I understood.
That smile wasn't kind, it was victorious.
"Honestly, I've always been curious."
"About what?"
"About you."
She picked up a glass of champagne.
"For a long time, I thought the two of you were together."
The blood drained from my face.
"No."
"I know." Her smile widened. "I figured that out later."
Something inside me began to burn.
"Although I can understand why people get confused."
She continued as casually as if she were discussing the weather.
"You were always there. Birthdays, races, gatherings, vacations..."
She took a sip, longer this time.
"But, well... some people just weren't meant to be the first choice."
I don't remember what my brain did after that, I only remember the noise, the humiliation and the embarrassment.
I walked away before she could see me cry and went looking for Saima.
"I need alcohol."
"What happened?"
"Alcohol. Now."
An hour later, I was completely drunk.
And so was Saima.
Which was never a good combination.
Ever.
"I hate him."
"I hate him too."
"You don't even know who I'm talking about."
"Doesn't matter. I hate him anyway."
I laughed.
Then I cried.
Then I laughed again.
An absolute disaster.
That's when I noticed someone nearby. He hadn't taken his eyes off me since I'd sat down.
He was one of Lando's friends. We'd crossed paths a few times before, he was kind,handsome and most importantly... He wasn't Lando.
We talked and danced for a while, we kept drinking.
The guy was so sweet that the feeling of inadequacy I'd been carrying around slowly transformed into something else entirely. Desire.
When he kissed me, it happened fast, impulsive, incredibly stupid. A moment fueled by alcohol, hurt feelings, and a desperate need to feel wanted by someone. For a few seconds, I kissed him back. Because I wanted to forget, I wanted to stop feeling like I was the only one suffering. That's when I heard a voice behind us. A very familiar one.
"What the fuck are you doing?"
My blood froze. I knew that voice and I knew that tone.
When I pulled away from the guy, Lando was standing there. Watching us with his jaw clenched and his hands curled into fists.
The silence was immediate and painfully uncomfortable.
I wasn't sure how much he'd seen, maybe only the last few seconds. My head was spinning from the alcohol and the embarrassment.
Of all the people who could've found me like that, it had to be him. The guy who had broken my heart, the same guy who had told me he didn't want anything serious, the same guy who was now acting like he'd just caught his girlfriend kissing another man.
My companion took a step back.
Confused.
"Uh..."
Lando didn't even look at him, his eyes remained fixed on me.
I knew that look, but I'd never imagined it would one day be directed at me.
"What are you doing?" he repeated.
My disbelief was so overwhelming that I let out a laugh. A completely unhinged one.
"Excuse me?" The words came out slurred.
"You're drunk."
"Very observant."
"Y/N."
"No." I shook my head "Don't talk to me like that."
Something shifted in his expression, as if he wasn't used to being challenged.
"Come with me."
"No."
"We need to talk."
"No."
"Y/N."
"Oh, now you want to talk?" The question escaped before I could stop it.
The silence that followed was answer enough, we both knew this had nothing to do with talking. It was about something else, something neither of us was willing to name.
My companion finally decided to intervene.
"I think I should go."
Wise man.
Because at that moment, Lando looked capable of ripping his head off.
"Yeah. You should."
"Lando."
"I'm not talking to you."
God, he was doing it again.
That tone.
That ridiculous possessiveness that surfaced every time he felt like he was losing something.
The funniest part was that he didn't even seem aware of it.
The guy wisely left, leaving us alone.
"You had no right to do that." The words left my mouth before I could stop them.
Lando blinked.
"Do what?"
"Interrupt."
"Interrupt?"
"Yes."
His jaw tightened.
"You were kissing one of my friends."
The response made me laugh again, because it was so absurd it was almost funny.
"And?"
He fell silent. Because he had no answer.
"And what, Lando?"
His gaze dropped to mine.
"Don't do this."
"Don't do what?"
"This."
"This?"
"You know exactly what I mean."
No.
The truth was that I didn't. I'd spent months trying to understand him and I'd never managed to.
"You don't want to be with me."
"..."
"But you don't want me with anyone else either."
Lando remained silent.
"That's not fair."
He didn't deny it. He simply looked away, as if he was fighting with himself, trying to find an explanation he didn't even understand.
I felt ridiculous. Part of me still wanted to hear the right words, I still wanted to hear:
Because I'm in love with you.
Because I made a mistake.
Because I want you.
But they never came.
"Let's go home."
"No."
"You're drunk."
"And you're being an asshole."
"Y/N."
"Do you know what she said to me?"
His expression changed instantly.
"Who?"
"The blonde."
His face hardened.
"What did she say?"
"Nothing important."
"Y/N."
"She just confirmed something I already knew."
"What?"
I looked at him, for a moment, I forgot my pride.
My dignity.
"That I was never enough."
Pain appeared in his eyes instantly.
"Don't say that."
"Why?"
"Because it's not true." His voice came out sharp.
"Really? Then explain to me why I'm always the one left behind."
The silence returned. Lando still didn't know what to say, hidn't know how to fix it nor what he wanted from me. The only thing he knew was that he didn't want to lose me and for me, that wasn't enough anymore.
I didn't realize I was crying until I felt his thumb brush against my cheek, wiping away a tear. Such a gentle gesture that it only made me cry harder.
Those were exactly the kinds of things that had kept me trapped for months.
"Don't cry."
I closed my eyes.
Damn it.
For one second, I felt hope again.
When I opened my eyes, I noticed something behind him.
Saima and she wasn't alone, Oscar was there too, watching us from a distance. The way he was looking at Lando made it seem like he was watching a bomb seconds away from exploding. I had the feeling he understood exactly what was happening. Long before either of us did.
Because Lando still believed he was fighting for a friendship when in reality, he was starting to act like a man in love and he still wasn't ready to admit it.
"Don't cry," he repeated.
I still hated him for everything he'd made me feel over the past few months and yet, a single touch from him was enough to break through every defense I had left. That's why I stepped away, if I stayed there one second longer, I was going to fall again and I already knew how that story ended.
"I need to leave."
Lando's hand slowly dropped.
"Y/N..."
"No." I shook my head "Please."
For once in his life, he listened.
Saima drove me home. The entire ride, she didn't mention Lando once, which was concerning. Because when Saima stayed quiet, it meant she was saving up far too many things to say later.
"Want me to tell you what I think?" she asked when we reached my apartment.
"No."
"Perfect. Because I'm doing it anyway."
I groaned.
"He's jealous."
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Y/N."
"Saima."
"Y/N."
"Saima." She threw a pillow directly at my face.
"I don't care," I lied. Because in reality I did. Far more than I wanted to admit.
"Of course you care."
"It doesn't mean anything."
"And who said it meant anything?"
I looked at her, confused.
"Jealousy doesn't mean love. Jealousy means fear."
She paused.
"And that man looks absolutely terrified."
I stared at Saima for a long moment, the words hanging in the air like smoke I couldn’t breathe out.
“He’s not terrified,” I muttered eventually, turning my face away. “He’s just… possessive, I guess.”
Saima made a sound somewhere between a laugh and disbelief.
“Sure,” she said. “Keep telling yourself that.”
I didn’t answer. Because I didn’t want to give that thought any more space than it already had.
(...)
The next day I went out to clear my head with some friends. Saima’s words had lodged themselves so deep inside me that they wouldn’t leave me alone for a single second.
That night I came back home very late and drunk. I tried to fall asleep immediately, but that was the last thing I could do—not because I was still thinking about everything, but because my phone wouldn’t stop lighting up on the nightstand like it had a pulse of its own.
I ignored it at first.
Then it rang. Again and again, until I finally sat up, grabbed it, and saw the caller ID.
LANDO.
My stomach tightened instantly.
I answered without thinking.
“Hello?”
Silence answered me. Then, after a few seconds, his voice—low, controlled… but strange, tense in a way I immediately recognized.
“Where are you?”
I frowned.
“At home. Why?”
Pause.
“You posted something.”
My mind tried to connect the dots.
“What?”
“You know what I’m talking about.”
The truth was I had absolutely no idea.
I opened Instagram, and there it was—a stupid, harmless story. A group photo from dinner that night: Saima, me, and some friends at a terrace restaurant. Someone had tagged me laughing, a glass in my hand, my head slightly turned toward—one guy. A friend of a friend. Nothing more. He was laughing, leaning toward the group like everyone else.
It meant nothing. But I could already feel the storm forming on the other side of the line.
“Lando,” I exhaled. “It’s literally just a photo.”
His laugh was dry.
“‘Just a photo.’”
“Yes.”
“And why are you like that with him?”
I closed my eyes.
“We’re sitting at a table. I’m not ‘like that’ with anyone.”
Another pause. Heavier this time. His breathing sharper.
“You didn’t reply to my messages for three hours.”
“That’s not a crime.”
“It is when I see that.”
My chest tightened.
“Are you calling me because of an Instagram story?”
“I’m calling you because I’ve been trying to talk to you all night and you’re out there—” he stopped, like he was forcing himself to swallow whatever he was about to say. “Whatever.”
“No, it’s not whatever,” I said more firmly. “Say it.”
Silence again.
That was the problem with Lando. He always brushed against the truth… and pulled away right before crossing it.
“You’re not my boyfriend,” I reminded him.
“I know,” he said.
But his voice clearly didn’t.
“Then why are you acting like this?” I asked quietly.
He didn’t answer right away. When he did, his voice was softer.
“Because I don’t like it.”
I let out a humorless laugh.
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one I’ve got.”
There it was again. Lando, refusing to name anything, refusing to define anything… but acting as if I belonged to a place he never dared to claim.
I exhaled slowly.
“I’m going to sleep,” I said.
“Don’t hang up.”
I stayed still. The silence between us stretched.
“Good night, Lando.”
And I hung up.
I thought that would be the end of it.
Just another absurd episode he would drop and leave unresolved. But it wasn’t. Because that night wasn’t a full stop—it was a starting point, and Lando was treating it like he had suddenly woken up inside something he no longer understood.
Two days later, he called me again. I answered not because I wanted to, but because not answering was becoming harder than picking up.
“Can we meet?” he said without preamble.
I sat up slightly in bed.
“What for?”
Pause.
“I want to talk.”
I almost laughed.
“That’s not really your thing.”
“I know.”
He sounded honest. Not confident. Not comfortable. Just… lost. And that disarmed me more than I wanted to admit.
“Okay,” I said finally.
We met at a small, quiet café, tucked away from everything.
I arrived first, as always. And during the minutes I waited, I had plenty of time to regret it. Then he walked in, and the air shifted immediately.
Because it was Lando. And even though I’d tried to convince myself otherwise for weeks… he still affected me.
He sat down without fully smiling, without jokes, without that ease of his that usually filled the silences.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hi.”
He ran a hand over the back of his neck—something unusual for him. Nervous. That was new.
“About the other day…” he started.
I cut him off.
“Nothing happened.”
He looked at me.
“Yes, it did.”
I exhaled.
“Lando…”
“No,” he interrupted. “Let me talk.”
I stayed still. That was new too.
“I didn’t like it,” he said bluntly.
I rolled my eyes.
“You already said that on the phone.”
“No, it’s not that,” he added more quietly. “It’s not just that.”
A short, humorless laugh slipped out of him.
“I spent the whole night thinking about it.”
I went silent. Because that… wasn’t him.
“I don’t understand what’s wrong with me,” he continued. “But when I saw you with him… I felt—”
He stopped, like the word wouldn’t come out.
He swallowed.
“I felt something I didn’t like.”
My chest tightened.
“Lando…”
“And before you say it,” he looked at me, “no, I’m not your boyfriend. I don’t have the right. I know that.”
He said it like it was a rule he was trying to obey… and failing at.
“Then I don’t understand why you’re here,” I said quietly.
“Because I don’t like the idea of losing you.”
The world didn’t stop.
But it almost did.
“That’s not the same as loving me,” I whispered.
He didn’t answer. For the first time, he had no escape.
It was just him, sitting in front of me, unable to turn what he felt into something he could hold.
“I don’t know how I’m supposed to do this,” he finally admitted.
It hurt to hear it, because it wasn’t a lack of feeling—it was a lack of direction.
And I had already spent too long living inside that confusion.
“Then don’t do it with me,” I said softly.
His gaze tightened.
“I don’t want to lose you.”
“But you don’t know how to choose me either.”
Lando only stayed silent and in that silence, I understood something with brutal clarity: he wasn’t playing games, but he also wasn’t ready.
I stood up first.
“I think this conversation is over.”
He didn’t stop me. As I walked out, I felt his eyes on my back the entire way. I didn’t turn around to check.
For the next week, he was unbearable.
Not loud, not aggressive—consistent.
He didn’t let it go.
Every conversation circled back to it in some subtle, irritating way. Every time I posted something, he reacted within minutes. Every time I didn’t reply, he doubled down the next day, like he was trying to prove I still existed in his system.
Until one afternoon, Saima arrived at my apartment holding two coffees and an expression I didn’t trust.
“What now?” I asked immediately.
She smiled too sweetly.
“I have news.”
“That’s never good.”
“You’re going on vacation.”
I blinked.
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.”
“I literally have work.”
“No, you don’t. I checked.”
I stared at her.
“You checked?”
“Un-important details, don’t focus on that.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Saima.”
She sighed dramatically.
“It’s a group trip. Everyone’s going. Max, Oscar, some friends. It’s a break from the season.” I shook my head immediately.
“I’m not going.”
She leaned against the counter.
“Lando is going.”
That did it, I hated how fast my body reacted to that information.
“I don’t care,” I said too quickly.
Saima raised an eyebrow.
“Sure.”
“I don’t.”
“Then say no properly.”
I opened my mouth and losed it again. Because the truth was inconvenient. I could say no but I already knew I wouldn’t.
Two days later, I was on a plane and the moment I stepped off it, I realized something was wrong. Everything was too suspiciously well-planned for someone like Saima. When we arrived at the villa, she handed me my bag with a grin.
“Where is everyone?” I asked slowly.
“Oh, they arrived earlier,” she said casually “And they’re already settled.” Something in her tone made my stomach drop.
“Saima.”
She smiled.
“Have fun.”
Then she walked away. I stood there for a full ten seconds before I turned the corner toward the back of the house— And stopped, because there was no “everyone.”
Just Max, who waved at me and Oscar, who looked deeply unbothered and Lando, standing by the pool, already looking at me like he’d been waiting. My throat tightened instantly. I turned around but it was too late. Saima was gone.
I exhaled slowly.
“This is insane,” I muttered to myself.
“Yeah,” Max called out. “It kind of is.”
Oscar added, without looking up from his drink: “Wasn’t my idea.”
Lando didn’t say anything, he just watched me, like he already knew I wasn’t leaving.
When night fell, everything went completely silent.
I stepped outside without really thinking, just looking for air—something to loosen the tightness that had been sitting in my chest since the café conversation. The night was warm, the pool glowing with a soft blue light that made everything feel even more unreal than it already was.
And then I saw Lando, completely alone, leaning against the edge of the pool, staring into the water like he was trying to untangle something inside his own head.
He didn’t see me at first. Or maybe he did… and was just waiting for me to show up.
“I knew you’d come out,” he said without looking at me.
I stopped a few steps away.
“I’m not in the mood for another weird conversation.”
He let out a short laugh, no humor in it.
“I know.”
The water moved gently between us. I could leave right then. I should’ve. But I didn’t.
“I don’t understand what you want from me, Lando,” I said finally.
He lifted his gaze. This time he looked at me directly, and there was no arrogance in it.
“I’m in love with you,” he said.
So simple. So direct that my breathing stopped for a second.
“Don’t say it like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like it’s enough.”
He shook his head, frustrated with himself.
“I’m not saying it because it’s enough,” he replied. “I’m saying it because it’s true.”
A heavy silence fell between us. There was no fake indifference in his voice. Only something raw and real.
Lando took a step closer.
“I spent months treating you like you were always going to be there,” he continued, quieter now. “And when you stopped being there… I realized how stupid I’ve been with you.”
My throat tightened.
“Lando…”
“No, let me finish,” his voice cracked just slightly, enough to hurt. “I didn’t ask you to wait for me. And that’s the worst part… because you still did. And I just took it for granted.”
He lowered his gaze for a second, like it was hard to continue.
“I never knew how to love you properly,” he admitted. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t love you. I hurt you,” he said. “I know. And I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”
The words I’m sorry had never sounded like that coming from him—so heavy, so human.
“I don’t want you to be someone who stays halfway with me,” he continued. “I don’t want to be that kind of person for you. But I also don’t want to lose you.”
His eyes finally met mine.
“Because I love you,” he said again, firmer this time. “And it’s not because I need you close. It’s because when you’re not here… everything feels wrong.”
The world shrank. It was just him and me. Alone in the moment I had both waited for and feared.
“You’re too late…”
He closed his eyes for a second.
“I know.”
“You broke me,” I whispered.
“I know.” This time he didn’t justify it. Didn’t try to fix it with pretty words. “But if there’s still something left…” he said softly, “if there’s still even a part of you that doesn’t hate me… I want to try properly. This time for real.”
I looked at him, and I didn’t see the Lando who played with the world. I saw the Lando who was afraid of losing it.
“This can’t be like before,” I said.
“I don’t want it to be,” he answered immediately.
“No more confusion.”
“No more.”
“No more disappearing.”
“No more.”
“No more empty promises.”
He shook his head.
“I swear.”
Silence.
Softer now.
Less painful.
“Then…” I whispered, “you’ll have to prove it.”
Something shifted in his expression, like he finally understood this wasn’t the easy part.
“I will,” he said.
I stayed looking at him for another second, and I felt something I hadn’t allowed myself in a long time.
Hope.
“Okay,” I said at last.
He blinked.
“Okay?”
I swallowed.
“I’ll give you a chance.”
The air between us changed completely, like the world had stopped holding its breath.
Lando didn’t smile. He didn’t celebrate. He just stepped a little closer, as if afraid to break the moment.
“I won’t waste it,” he said quietly.
I nodded slightly.
“You better not.”
This time I didn’t walk away. Because, when I looked at him, I didn’t only see the damage. I saw the possibility of something different.
And I chose to stay long enough to find out if it was real.
