The first time you met Manjiro Sano, you had no idea who he was.
Well, correction: you knew he was someone. The guy had swagger, an aura of danger, white hair that looked too pretty for his attitude, and an expression like the world bored him to death.
What you didn’t know was that he was that Manjiro Sano. Bonten’s leader. Japan’s most dangerous crime boss. Someone who could literally blink and make people disappear.
And you? You were a barista. Working the morning shift, half-asleep, armed with nothing but caffeine and sarcasm.
So when the man strutted in, cut the entire line, and leaned against the counter with an arrogant tilt of his head—you didn’t even flinch.
"You gonna pay for that coffee? Or are you just here to stand around and look mysterious?"
The room went dead silent.
You didn’t notice the flinch from the guy in the suit behind him. Or how the woman next to you suddenly ducked.
Mikey, however, blinked.
His head tilted. Just slightly. He looked you over. And for the first time in years, his lips twitched.
"What if I like standing around?"
You squinted. "Then stand over there. After you pay."
He paid. Silently. Didn’t say another word. But he came back the next day. And the next. And the one after that.
Sometimes he ordered the same drink. Sometimes he just stared at you, sat in a booth, arms crossed, like you were a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve.
You ignored him. Mostly. Gave him nicknames like "pouty gremlin" or "white-haired menace" under your breath.
Until one day, you saw him again. Not in the café. Not in his fancy coat.
He was bleeding.
It was a rainy night, and you were walking home when you found him slouched in an alley, breathing heavy, eyes sharp even through the pain.
"Oh my god—are you okay?"
He looked up. Recognized you. Still tried to play it cool.
"It's nothing."
"Nothing?! You look like you got run over by a truck. Twice."
You dragged him to your apartment. Cleaned him up. Forced him to sit still.
"You know, for someone who looks like a villain, you bleed like everyone else."
He snorted. "You talk too much."
"And you sulk too much."
He didn’t leave for a while. Slept on your couch. Ate your instant ramen. Watched movies with a permanent scowl, until he started actually laughing.
And one day, out of nowhere, he just—
"You’re mine now."
You looked up from your cereal. "Huh?"
Mikey didn’t even blink. "You’re mine. Don’t make me repeat it."
"Is that your version of a proposal or a threat?"
"Yes."
And somehow, from that moment on, he just... never left.
The Bonten execs were horrified. Some were in denial. Sanzu needed a week to recover.
But Mikey? Mikey was obsessed. Protective. Clingy.
He dragged you into his world, but made sure you were untouchable.
The first time someone called you "Mrs. Sano," you almost spit out your drink.
But Mikey just nodded proudly. Arm around your waist. Dead serious.
warnings; smut, dry humping, mentions of alcohol, fwb, kinda sub mikey.
mike’s sitting on the couch when you spot him, legs spread, red cup dangling from his fingers just about to fall. he’s laughing at something dustin said, but it’s delayed. way too late. that’s how you know.
fuck.
you walk over and stand in front of him. he looks up at you and smiles immediately, soft and dumb in a way that makes your stomach drop.
“oh hey!” he says, like you just arrived and not like you’ve been here the whole time. “youu’re here.”
“i’ve been here,” you say. “how much did you drink?”
he blinks and thinks about it. then shrugs. “enough?”
you take the cup from his hand and sniff it. definitely not soda.
“mike.”
“i knoooow, i know,” he says, already leaning forward to stand up. he wobbles the second his feet hit the floor and you grab his arm without even thinking.
he laughs it off. “see? ‘m fine. just—” he gestures vaguely “tilted.”
“yeah. you’re tilted straight out of this house.”
you grab his wrist and start pulling before he can argue. he doesn’t, which honestly surprises you. he just follows, bumping into your shoulder once, then again.
“sorry,” he says, not actually fixing it.
the hallway’s darker, quieter. someone laughs behind a closed door. mike presses his palm flat against the wall to steady himself.
“i didn’t even wanna be here,” he says.
“well, you drank like you wanted to be here.”
he huffs. “that was peer pressure.”
“from who.”
“everyone,” he says. then softer: “max.”
you roll your eyes. “of course.”
he stops walking again. you almost don’t notice until your arm tugs back.
“they keep inviting me now,” he says. “isn’t that weird?”
you turn to face him. “you mean the same people who used to ignore you?”
“yeah.” he nods slow. “those ones.”
for a second he looks proud. then it fades. his mouth twists.
“i don’t trust it.”
you pull him closer, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. “they just grew up.. and noticed how cool you actually are.”
he presses his lips flat, lousy smile. “shut up.”
. . .
your house looks exactly the same as always. white porch light on. two steps up to the front door. the window by the entry still has the crooked curtain you never fixed. quiet street, no cars, no noise.
you unlock the door and step inside. the hallway light clicks on. shoes by the wall. coat on the chair. the place smells like detergent and whatever candle you lit earlier and forgot about. oh wait, jasmine candle.
mike comes in behind you and shuts the door. then abruptly stops by the entrance.
you kick off your shoes and drop your keys on the table. when you turn around, he’s still standing there, back near the door, shoulders tight, hands shoved deep into his pockets.
“you okay?” you ask skeptically.
“yeah,” he says too quickly. “i’m good.”
he is not good.
you take a step closer as he shifts his weight, clears his throat, stares at the floor.
oh. OH.
you don’t say it. you just look at him. at it.
he notices and immediately groans. “pl-please don’t.”
“i didn’t say anything.” you smile a little, can’t help it.
“you’re thinking it.”
“maybe.”
he rubs his face, mortified. “i swear i wasn’t trying to be weird.”
“you’re drunk,” you say. “and you’ve been with pretty girls all night.”
“that makes it worse,” he mutters.
“you can sit,” you say.
he nods and moves to the couch, sitting stiffly on the edge. hands still in his pockets. knees bouncing like an anxious child.
“this is actually so embarrassing,” he says.
“it’s fine,” you reply. “it happens.”
he looks up at you then. eyes glossy, flushed, way too open. like a puppy.
“you don’t seem bothered,” he says, a bit puzzled.
“i’m not.” you reply as you sat next to him.
that makes him swallow hard.
“… you wanna lie down,” you ask. “you look like you’re about to pass out.”
he exhales, relieved. “yeah. please.”
you head down the hall toward your room. he follows close behind, careful not to touch, very clearly wanting to.
your room is small and familiar. hasn’t changed that much since middle school. twin bed against the wall, faded comforter, a nightstand with a cassette player and a few tapes stacked crooked. pet shop boys posters taped up with their edges peeling. a desk by the window with a lamp and a walkman tossed on top. blinds are half open, streetlight cutting in. mike pauses when you walk in, glances around once, then closes the door behind him. he sits on the pink, tidy bed and lets out a small laugh.
“tonight got out of hand,” he says. “i just wanted to play d&d, to be honest.”
“you had fun,” you say, as you looked around at the mess, glad he was drunk enough to not give a shit.
“with side effects,” he replies, then looks at you. “not bad ones though.”
you sit next to him. your knees touch.
he leans in, resting his forehead against your shoulder.
“thanks for getting me home,” he says quietly.
you don’t catch the exact moment it happens. he’s thanking you, quiet and close, and then his mouth is on yours again, rushed and careless. you fall back onto the bed without meaning to and he’s there instantly, holding himself up above you, breathing hard, eyes fixed on your face. somewhere along the way, this became inevitable, and now mike is on top of you, very present, very sure he doesn’t want to stop.
he kisses you without any restraint, not bothering to slow down or get it right, just going for it with too much want. his mouth clumsily keeps finding yours again and again, breath warm, clearly drunk enough to forget how careful he usually is. when you pulls back even slightly, he follows immediately, pressing closer, hands tightening at your waist because he doesn’t seem to know what to do with them except to hold on.
he lets out this shaky laugh that turns into a breath against your skin.
“please,” he whispers quietly. then more desperate, “please just… stay like this. touch me. i-i don’t care how stupid I sound.”
you cup his face, forcing him to look at you. his eyes are blown wide, needy.
“you’re not stupid,” you say, hips rocking against his, unconsciously. “you’re drunk.”
“that too,” he admits, as if you didn’t already know. “but also i really want you.”
he presses his mouth to yours again, sloppy and insistent. his hands seem to forget where to hold onto, so they land everywhere. waist, back, your thigh. he keeps pulling you closer even though there’s nowhere closer to go.
and when you feel him pressing up against your skin you can’t help but to think how wrong this was.
“mike,” you say quietly, pulling back just enough to look at him.
he swallows but doesn’t move away. “i know,” he murmurs. “ ‘m sorry. ’m just.. ‘m really not hiding it well.”
“hey,” you say, pulling back fully this time.
“what- did.. did i do something wrong?”
“no,” you say quickly, not wanting to upset him. “no you didn’t.”
he searches your face, suddenly quieter. “then why’d you stop.”
you cup his cheek with your hand, feeling the smoothness of his flushed skin against your palm. that skin you’d been craving for a while now. “you’re drunk mike. we shouldn’t be doing this.”
he doesn’t move closer, but his voice changes.
“wait,” he says, immediately sitting back up. “please don’t do that.”
you look at him, you want it to happen you really do. but you care too much about him to actually let it happen.
he swallows, eyes flicking up to you, way too open. “i want you. not just because im drunk. i’ve wanted you. this just made me bad at hiding it.” his voice drops. “can we just stay here. sit, kiss.. anything. i’ll behave, i swear.”
he didn’t behave. five minutes later he was crowding your space again, not even fully aware of how he got there, knees on either side of your legs, hands shaking where they pressed into the mattress. he kept saying your name under his breath, over and over, like it might anchor him. his forehead dropped to your shoulder, then lifted, then dropped again. mouth trailing anywhere it could reach because he didn’t know where to put all the want building up in him.
“i know you said no,” he murmured, voice rough and uneven, “i know, i swear i know, ’m just.. please don’t make me stop touching you.”
he was desperate now, clinging, pressing closer without thinking, breathing hard against your skin, clearly overwhelmed by his own body and the fact that you were still there.
he wasn’t trying to be smooth or convincing, just honest in the most embarrassing way, holding onto you like you were the only thing keeping him upright and asking in a quiet voice not to be pushed away again.
you don’t want him to stop either.
“m-mike..” a soft plea gets out of your mouth as you feel his clothed cock blindly looking for your entrance. he presses into you, desperate for friction.
the second he realizes you’re not pushing him away something in him snaps loose and he’s moving again, closer, heavier. hips shifting without much control since he stopped pretending he has any.
“fuck,” he mutters, bit embarrassed, yet not enough to stop his rolling hips. “ ’m sorry, i can’t help it. i want you so bad-”
you’re overwhelmed in the best way possible. his weight all over you, the way his tip brushes against your clothed clit makes you wrap your arms around his neck. “god, yes.. mike-“
“please baby, i needa feel you..” he speaks against your neck, warm and wet. “let me inside baby please-“
“no.. mike wait,” you try your best to think with your brain and not your cunt, as he kept on kissing and nibbling on your neck and pressing up against the gap between your legs. “i-i haven’t got any condoms.”
he groans against your skin, frustrated. “i can pull out, don’t you worry about that.” his left hand was on your pants now, and you loved it.
“please, i need you so bad it’s painful..” his fingers clumsily trying to unzip them. “lemme fuck you, please.”
you were spread out by now. you hated how worked up he got you, how easily it was for you to just give in. “mike.. no.”
your voice was firm, making him pull away. half lidded eyes looking down at you, tongue licking your saliva off his lips.
“let’s just.. stay like this.” you kiss him gently, pulling him closer with both legs swaddling around his torso.
“mgh.. okay baby,” he kept on moving, trying to let it all out, groaning desperately. “fuck you feel so good. even like this.”
you could feel your panties getting soaked as he kept rubbing himself against you, so eager like he was trying to actually get his cock inside you. which he was.
“fuck baby, please.. i promise i’ll pull out please.” he looked down at you with those sad, puppyish eyes. you didn’t know whether they turned you on or made you wanna slap his face. “it aches please,”
“mike you’re drunk, you’re lucky we’re even doing this.”
“but i’ve always been so good to you, haven’t i? please baby, just this once,” his hands gripped on your hips. his length pressed right against your inner thigh, swaying up your core. “i promise ill make you feel sososo good,”
you rolled your eyes acknowledging that, for the hundredth time, you were giving in to mike wheeler.
it starts subtle—slow, controlled—but she feels it immediately. the distance. the way his eyes aren’t on her, not really. they’re somewhere else, unfocused, like he’s replaying something in his head that matters more than the fact that she’s right there, trying.
trying.
her movements get sharper, more deliberate, like she can force his attention back onto her if she just—does more. but he barely reacts. just a hand on her hip, absent, like muscle memory.
that’s it.
she stops.
just—stops completely, the sudden stillness loud in the room.
his eyes blink back into focus, finally landing on her. “what?”
“what?” she echoes, incredulous, sliding off him completely. “you’re kidding.”
he pushes himself up on his elbows, brow furrowing. “what’s wrong now?”
now.
she actually laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “you weren’t even here.”
“i’m right here.”
“no, you’re not,” she snaps, already moving away from the bed, arms wrapping around herself. “you’ve been in your head this entire time. like i’m just—something to do while you think about whatever the hell is more important.”
his jaw tightens at that, shoulders going rigid in that way she knows too well—like he’s snapping back into that controlled, closed-off version of himself.
“i said i’m here.”
“barely.”
silence stretches.
then—“you’re being dramatic.”
her head whips around. “excuse me?”
“i’ve had a long day,” he says, voice flattening, like that explains everything.
“oh, i’m sorry,” she shoots back, sharp and biting. “didn’t realize i was just supposed to sit pretty and wait until you decide to actually pay attention to me.”
he exhales through his nose, dragging a hand down his face. “that’s not what i said.”
“it’s what you meant.”
“no,” he says, firmer now, sitting up fully. “you’re twisting it.”
she scoffs, shaking her head, blinking a little too fast. “you know what? whatever. forget it.”
he watches her for a second, something unreadable flickering across his face, but instead of fixing it—like he should—he just shuts down.
and that’s worse.
“fine,” he mutters.
fine.
her chest tightens at how easy that was for him.
“go sleep on the couch,” she says suddenly, pointing toward the door, voice tight with something that sounds a lot less confident than she wants it to.
his brows knit together. “seriously?”
“yes, seriously.”
another pause.
she expects pushback. expects him to argue, to tell her she’s being ridiculous, to stay.
instead, he just nods once. short. controlled.
“okay.”
and that somehow feels like the worst part.
he grabs a blanket on his way out, doesn’t slam the door, doesn’t say anything else. just leaves.
the silence he leaves behind is suffocating.
she stands there for a second, staring at the empty doorway, anger still buzzing under her skin—but it’s already starting to twist into something else. something heavier.
stupid.
he’s stupid. she’s not.
she climbs back into bed, yanks the covers up, turns onto her side.
she lasts maybe ten minutes.
before she’s throwing the blankets off with an annoyed huff, dragging herself out of bed, and padding down the hallway.
the apartment is dark, quiet.
he’s on the couch, exactly where she told him to be.
of course he is.
he’s lying on his back, one arm thrown over his eyes, the other resting on his stomach, blanket barely covering him. he looks uncomfortable. too big for the space, legs hanging slightly off the edge.
he didn’t even grab a pillow.
her chest tightens again.
she hesitates for half a second.
then she walks over, nudges his leg. “move.”
his arm shifts just enough for him to look at her, eyes heavy, confused. “what—”
“move,” she repeats, softer this time.
he doesn’t argue.
just shifts over as much as the small couch allows, making space without a word.
she climbs on top of him like it’s the most natural thing in the world, settling against his chest, arms wrapping around his middle.
he goes still for a second.
then his arm comes up automatically, resting across her back.
“thought you wanted me out here,” he murmurs, voice rough with sleep.
she presses her face into his shirt. “shut up.”
there’s no bite to it this time.
just tired.
his hand starts moving without thinking, slow, steady passes up and down her back.
they stay like that for a minute.
two.
three.
her breathing evens out first.
he feels it—how she softens completely, weight going heavy against him.
asleep.
just like that.
he lets out a quiet breath, something in his chest easing as he adjusts his hold on her, pulling the blanket up over both of them as best as he can.
the couch is uncomfortable. cramped.
he doesn’t move.
just keeps his hand on her back, steady, grounding.
Summary: Y/N never wanted the spotlight. Anxious in crowds and overwhelmed by attention, she prefers quiet corners and safe routines. But everything changes when she falls in love with Lando Norris, known for his charm, his reckless heart, and a past filled with fleeting flings.
For six months, their relationship is private, gentle, and real. But when he finally decides to introduce her to his closest friends what begins as a promise of connection unravels into a heartbreaking misunderstanding
Warnings : social anxiety, pannic attack, Lando friends are shitty friends for the sake of the story (purely fictional).
Genre: fluff and some angst, request
Pairing: Lando Norris x reader
Author note: Thank you do much for the request, sorry it take so long to write it but I enjoyed doing this type of storie so much. Having experienced pannic attacks myself and social anxiety it resonates so much with me, so hope you will like it as well :)
Main Masterlist
Her pencil moved slowly across the paper. The room was quiet, save for the breeze pushing in from the open balcony and the occasional scratch of graphite against the page. Lando leaned against the doorframe, watching her.
She was curled up on the couch, a blanket across her legs and his hoodie draped over her thin frame, sleeves swallowed by her fingers. Her hair was pulled up loosely, and she looked so small like that, almost like she was trying to disappear into the fabric.
She didn’t notice him at first. She was focused, the way she always was when sketching, present in the page, not the world around her.
He held a mug in each hand.
“Peace offering,” he said softly.
She blinked, startled, then glanced up and smiled. “For what?”
He smiled back. “Just figured you deserve one anyway.”
She set the sketchpad down beside her and pulled her legs up a little more, making space for him. He handed her the mug, warm hands brushed his, briefly, then dropped onto the couch beside her with a low sigh.
Outside, the sound of the harbor echoed faintly, Monaco in summer was always half sea breeze, half chaos. But up here, in this apartment where she insisted on opening the windows and lighting lavender candles at sunset, it was a different world. Softer. Quieter.
Safer.
She took a slow sip of her tea and rested the mug against her knees, eyes on the horizon beyond the balcony.
Lando studied her for a second.
There was so much about people didn’t see about her. They’d call her quiet. Shy. Maybe cold. But they didn’t know how much effort it took for her to go outside, how her chest got tight when the room was too loud or strangers looked her way. How exhausted she’d be after a dinner party, even if she smiled through most of it.
She hadn’t been built for his world, and yet she was the only thing in it that felt like home.
He turned to her. “I was thinking…”
Her shoulders tensed slightly.
“Not now. I promise. Just sometime,” he said carefully. “Maybe you could meet the guys.”
She didn’t say anything.
Lando waited.
“From the grid ?” she ask at last, her voice barely audible.
“Yeah.”
“And they’ve known you through… all of it. All the girls. The parties. The... stories.”
Lando frowned. “That doesn’t mean anything.”
She looked down at the mug in her hands.
“I’m not the kind of girl they’d expect you to be with,” she said quietly. “I’m not loud. I’m not charming. I won’t know what to say to them.”
“You don’t have to be any of those things.”
“I’m not even sure they’ll care about me.”
Lando reached for her hand, threading their fingers together.
“I care,” he said. “That’s all that matters.”
She still looked unconvinced, but she didn’t pull away. And to him, it was already a victory.
Lunch with the boys was always a little chaotic, overlapping conversations, half-finished jokes, food ordered too quickly between sarcastic jabs. Today was no different.
They were at their usual spot in Monaco, seated under a wide umbrella on a terrace with a perfect view of the sea. The sky was cloudless, heat already rising off the stone. George was scrolling through his phone, Alex tossing olives into his mouth with questionable accuracy, Carlos wiping his sunglasses with the corner of his shirt.
Lando joined late, a little flushed from running across town after training.
“Look who’s alive,” George said, raising his brows. “Thought maybe he’d been eaten alive by one of his situationships.”
“Or locked in a villa with that girl from Barcelona,” Alex added.
Lando pulled out a chair and dropped into it. “Hilarious. Truly.”
Carlos smirked. “Come on, mate. We’ve barely seen you lately.”
George leaned forward, squinting. “You hiding someone?”
Lando grabbed a menu to avoid their eyes. “Actually… yeah.”
Alex’s eyebrows went up.
Carlos glanced over. “Seriously?”
“It’s been a few months now,” Lando said. “I’m happy.”
That seemed to catch them off guard.
Six months wasn’t long in the real world maybe, but in Lando’s, it was an eternity. Long enough to fall in love. Long enough to realize he didn’t want anyone else.
George raised his beer. “Well, she must be something, then.”
Lando gave a tight smile. “She is.”
There was a pause.
Then Alex asked, “What’s her name?”
Lando told them.
They nodded politely. Carlos asked where she was from. George half-smiled and said, “So we’ll meet her before she disappears, yeah?”
Lando laughed once, a little too soft, a little too forced. “Come on. It’s not like that.”
Carlos shrugged. “It’s just… you’ve said that before.”
“She’s different,” Lando said.
But he didn’t explain why. Didn’t say how she made him slow down. How she listened like she cared. How she knew the version of him who got overwhelmed, not just the one who performed.
“She’s the real deal, huh?” George asked.
“Yeah.”
Another beat of silence.
Lando glanced around, then tried: “I was actually thinking… if you’re all free, maybe we could do a dinner? This weekend?”
The reaction was underwhelming.
Alex tilted his head. “Dinner?”
“Just casual. She could meet you guys. Get to know you.”
George hesitated, then said, “We’re on the boat Saturday. Carmen, Lily, and Rebecca are coming too.”
Carlos nodded. “Yeah. Come with her then. Chill vibes.”
Lando’s face lit up a little. “Really?”
George shrugged. “Sure. Why not.”
Alex tossed an olive in the air and caught it. “Tell her not to be too scared. We’re not that bad.”
Lando smiled, relieved.
Then said, “Could you maybe mention it to the girls? Just for them to be nice. She’s not great with big groups.”
Carlos raised a brow. “What, is she nervous?”
Lando hesitated. “A little. She’s just more private.”
Alex nodded slowly. “Yeah, alright. I’ll tell Lily.”
George muttered something like “I’ll try to remember,” and Carlos went back to scrolling through his phone.
Internally, none of them took it seriously.
They assumed it was another Lando phase.
Another girl with a vague name and no backstory, someone beautiful and temporary.
George turned back to football scores. Carlos mentioned something about the new sim update. Alex started talking about a boat party in Ibiza.
And Lando sat there, trying not to feel stupid for thinking any of it had landed badly.
That afternoon, Lando sat in his car, phone in hand, her name glowing softly on the screen.
The boys invited us to George’s boat this Saturday. Their girlfriends will be there too. It’ll be super chill. I’ll stay with you the whole time.
He added a heart. Then deleted it. Then added it again.
He read the message twice before pressing send.
On Saturday she find herself stooding in front of her mirror for nearly an hour.
Lando had seen her try on four different outfits that morning, each one carefully chosen, each one more beautiful than the last but none of them made her feel like she belonged. Not in the way she wanted to.
She had finally settled on the deep blue dress. Simple. Elegant. Sleeveless, with a flowing hem that moved like water when she walked. Her makeup was light, just enough to hide how tired she’d been lately. Just enough to pretend she felt confident.
But Lando had no idea how she still couldn’t see it.
Because in his eyes, she looked breathtaking.
“Wow,” he said, stepping into the room. His voice was soft, reverent. “You… seriously. You look incredible.”
She glanced at him through the mirror, shy and uncertain, as if waiting for the truth to hit like a wave.
“You sure it’s not too much?”
Lando stepped behind her, resting his hands gently on her waist. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”
She exhaled, but it was shaky.
“You okay?”
She nodded, too quickly.
He pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “They’re excited to meet you. I promise.”
Her silence didn’t surprise him. He knew what today meant to her. Knew the pressure she felt, all imagined, all internal, but still heavy enough to choke her.
He kissed the side of her head. “We’re just going to say hi. It’s not some huge thing. Just the boat, a few drinks, the girls’ll be there too. You’ll see. Carmen’s sweet. Lily’s fun. Rebecca’s always chill.”
She looked at him again, eyes wide, lashes trembling. “What if they don’t like me?”
He smiled. “Then they’re idiots.”
That earned a weak laugh.
He took her hand. “Come on. Let’s go show them how lucky I am.”
The ride to the harbor should’ve calmed her.
Lando tried, he really did. He talked the whole time. About the sun, about how Carlos had apparently managed to break a wine fridge, about how Alex had sent him another lame meme that morning. She smiled occasionally, but her fingers stayed laced tightly in her lap, knuckles pale from how hard she gripped them.
“You’re going to be okay,” he said, squeezing her knee gently. “I’ll be with you the whole time.”
She nodded. He could tell she didn’t believe it yet.
But it would be fine.
He kept telling himself that, too.
It was the music that hit them first.
Lando turned the corner onto the dock and froze.
It wasn’t just George’s boat, quietly moored like he’d expected. No. There were dozens of people on board, spilling onto the deck with drinks in hand and sunglasses pushed up into carefully tousled hair. Music pounded through high-end speakers, something electronic and thudding.
This wasn’t a “chill hang.” It was a party.
Y/N stopped walking.
Lando turned to her. Her face had drained of all color.
“I...” She took a shaky breath. “I can’t…”
“No, wait, love, wait.” He stepped closer. “This wasn’t supposed to be like this. I swear.”
She looked like she might cry right there on the dock.
“I’m going to kill George,” Lando muttered under his breath. “Look, maybe we’ll just pop in, say hi, then grab dinner somewhere. Just us. Something quiet.”
Her arms had folded tightly around herself now, shoulders drawn in.
“We don’t have to stay,” he said, rubbing her back. “Five minutes. That’s it.”
She nodded faintly, but it was automatic, the kind of nod people give when they’re trying not to fall apart in public.
Lando took her hand and kissed her knuckles. “I’ve got you.”
Then he helped her step onto the boat.
George spotted them almost immediately.
“Oi!” he shouted from across the deck, sunglasses perched high on his nose. He was shirtless, holding a beer, laughing with a group of guys Lando didn’t recognize. “Look who made it!”
Lando smiled, letting go of her hand just long enough to pull George into a quick hug. “Didn’t realize we were hosting a club out here.”
George laughed. “Yeah, plan changed. Bit of a last-minute upgrade.”
Lando turned to gesture behind him. “You remember I said I wanted to introduce you to my girlfriend, right?”
George glanced her way, gave a quick nod, and smiled, the kind of smile that didn’t reach the eyes.
“Right, right. Hi. Nice to meet you.” He raised his beer. “Go grab a drink. Have fun.”
Then he turned back to his conversation.
Just like that.
Lando froze for half a second. He looked at his girl, who was staring at the deck, lips pressed tight.
He hated that he couldn’t tell if it hurt more because she’d been ignored, or because she’d expected it.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “That was… not what I thought it’d be.”
She didn’t say anything.
He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Come on. Carlos and Alex are here. Let’s find them.”
They were near the back of the boat, leaning against the rail with drinks in hand and a few random people Lando didn’t recognize, probably friends of friends, models, plus-ones. The usual Monaco crowd.
“Lando!” Alex called, grinning. “Look who decided to show up.”
Carlos turned, arms wide. “The man himself!”
They hugged, clapped shoulders. Someone handed Lando a beer. He ignored it.
He turned to introduce her, but she was still half a step behind him, quiet, clutching her bag like it might float her away.
He reached back, took her hand, pulled her gently forward.
Carlos didn’t look at her. Neither did Alex. Their attention stayed on him, questions already flying.
“How was the sim?”
“Did you see that new footage of the Ferrari launch?”
“When are you going to stop being late for everything?”
Carlos laughed, then added with a smirk, “Or is it just because you’re getting laid again with that girl from the yoga class?”
That makes her froze beside him.
Lando tensed, forcing a smile. “Don’t spread lies in front of my girl.”
That got a laugh.
He glanced at her, her face was blank. Like she’d locked something inside.
He cleared his throat, introducing her to them. "We’ve been together for a while now.”
Carlos turned, finally, nodding. “Right, yeah. Hi.”
Alex gave a polite smile. “Hey. Nice to meet you.”
It lasted about two seconds.
Then they were talking again. Without her.
Lando tried to loop her into the conversation, mentioned she’d just moved here, but it barely landed. She smiled nervously at something Alex said, but he didn’t notice. Carlos took a call mid-sentence and wandered off.
She shrank back again.
Later, Carlos returned. He looked at Lando girlfriend, then tilted his head, engaging conversation with her.
She smiled, bright and hopeful.
“So you’re the Brazilian one, yeah? The model?”
She just stared at Carlos.
“I...no, I’m not...”
But Carlos was already distracted, laughing at something Alex said.
Her lips parted like she might add something, but she didn’t.
She just looked away.
She was quiet beside Lando, so quiet everyone even forgot she was here. Her eyes stayed fixed on the horizon like it was the only thing keeping her from breaking. She hadn’t spoken in what felt like an hour.
And Lando was furious.
Not at her. At himself.
At George for throwing a damn party after telling him it would be chill.
At Carlos for ignoring her.
At Alex for acting like this was all some kind of joke.
And most of all, at how powerless he felt watching her shrink in real time.
He leaned back against the railing, the beer cold in his hand, and tried to steady his voice.
“So, are the girls around too?” he asked casually, glancing at Carlos.
Carlos sipped his drink. “Yeah, Rebecca’s somewhere. I think with Carmen.”
Alex nodded. “Lily came with me.”
Lando brightened slightly. “Great. Maybe Y/N could go hang with them for a bit? You know they could talk about their experience dating a driver”
The last part was supposed to be a joke but Alex’s expression barely shifted.
“I mean,” Alex said with a half-smile, “you can’t really compare that, mate.”
Lando blinked. “Compare what?”
Alex shrugged. “You know. It’s different.”
Carlos didn’t say anything.
Lando stared at him. “Well we are dating too I don't see how it's different."
Alex lifted his beer. “Just saying there is a difference between a fling and an actual long-term relationship.”
She had looked down, pretending she didn’t hear. Her fingers were white around the glass in her hand.
Lando wanted to scream. Instead, he drained the rest of his drink and set it down harder than necessary on the ledge.
Before he could say anything else, someone behind him, one of George’s racing friends, clapped him on the back.
“Mate! Come meet Luca, the guy with the sim rig company you were asking about!”
Lando hesitated, immediately glancing back at his girlfriend.
“I’ll be right back,” he said softly, crouching a little to meet her eye. “Okay?”
She didn’t answer, just nodded once.
Lando looked at Carlos. “Stay with her? Be nice. Talk to her.”
Carlos gave a lazy nod. “Sure.”
Lando squeezed her hand, then let go and walked away.
She stood awkwardly beside the bench, arms folded tightly across her stomach.
Carlos sat back against the railing, drink in one hand, sunglasses slipping slightly down his nose.
“So,” he said, stretching the word out, “you and Lando, huh?”
She nodded, forcing a small smile.
He glanced her way, then out to the water. “Didn’t think he’d settle so fast. Kid used to be a bloody mess. Still is, sometimes.”
She didn’t know what to say to that so she laughed nervously.
Carlos took a long drink. “And with absolutly no stabilty when it occur his relations, well no offense to you."
Her smile twitched, wrong place, wrong time, it wasn't funny.
“He’s not like that anymore,” she said, barely above a whisper.
Carlos hummed, clearly not listening.
Then came a few minutes of silence. Just the hum of the music and laughter from the upper deck.
So she tried to engage conversation.
“So… you and Rebecca are together since how long?” she asked, hopeful.
Carlos shrugged. “3 years now, she is incredible."
Another pause.
“I’d love to meet her,” she offered.
Carlos nodded. “Yeah she’s probably with the girls, you can go if you want.”
That was it. She stood there, waiting. Hoping. Her mind spun with possible questions, she could've ask about racing, about Spain, about literally anything but her throat closed up each time.
Then someone shouted Carlos’s name.
Alex, waving from across the deck.
Carlos stood up, brushing sand off his shorts. “Be right back.”
Her chest sank. “Wait, Lando said...”
But he was already walking and just like that, she was alone.
The music was louder now. Bass thumped through her ribcage. People swirled around her, beautiful people with loud voices and clinking drinks, laughter bouncing from one side of the deck to the other.
She tried to breathe.
Tried to focus on her glass. On the ocean. On anything.
But every time someone walked too close, every time someone looked at her too long, her heart stuttered.
One guy in particular, tall and sunburned, had been watching her from across the boat for the last ten minutes.
He moved closer.
She stepped back instinctively, bumping into someone else. Apologized. Felt the panic crawling up her spine like fire ants.
She fumbled for her phone with shaking hands.
Where are you? Please come back.
She pressed send. Her thumb hovered, then typed again.
I can’t do this.
And hit send once more.
Then she gripped her glass like a lifeline and stared out at the water, praying to disappear.
She stood near the edge of the deck, clutching her phone with both hands.
Two messages sent. No reply.
The ocean blurred at the edges of her vision. Music pulsed in the background, too loud, too bright, too much. She couldn’t hear her heartbeat over it anymore, but she felt it, pounding in her ears, in her throat, in her chest like something was trying to claw its way out.
Her breathing was too fast. Her fingers tingled. Her chest was tight and getting tighter.
She wasn’t okay.
She hadn’t been for a while now.
Where was Lando ?
She scanned the deck, eyes flicking over blurred faces, bodies, shadows. Nothing. No one familiar. No safe place to run. People moved like waves, laughing, talking, bumping into her without looking.
Then she saw them.
Three women standing near the main deck steps, their heads tilted together in conversation. Sunglasses perched in their hair, glossy lips moving around the rims of wine glasses. They were dressed effortlessly, linen and silk, golden tans and manicures that caught the sun.
Lily. Carmen. Rebecca.
She recognized them instantly.
The girlfriends of the drivers. The ones Lando had mentioned.
And for a moment, a fragile, fleeting moment, she let herself believe they could help.
Lando had told her they were kind. He said the guys had mentioned her to them. That they’d be welcoming.
So they’d know who she was, right?
They’d understand. They’d help.
She took one shaky breath and started walking.
Her steps were careful. She could barely feel her legs. The music dulled to a hum as she approached them, each second stretching into a lifetime.
When she stopped a few feet away, none of them looked up.
“Hi,” she said, barely audible.
It came out too quiet, too small.
Carmen turned first. Then Lily. Rebecca followed a second later.
They looked at her and in that moment, she knew: they have no idea who she was.
Their expressions were polite, guarded, curious. The kind people gave to someone they didn’t expect or maybe didn’t want to talk to.
She tried to steady her voice.
“Hi, I’m… I’m Lando’s girlfriend. I was just looking for him. I was wondering if you’ve seen him?”
Lily blinked once.
Then she laughed.
A full, open laugh. Loud and airy and sharp.
“Oh, you’re funny,” she said.
She froze.
Lily looked at the others, then back at her. “Big fan, huh? He’s probably somewhere being mobbed. Want an autograph?”
Her mouth parted, but no sound came.
Rebecca tilted her head slightly. Carmen gave a confused smile.
And the truth dropped like ice into her stomach.
They didn’t know, the boys hadn’t said a word about her like Lando ask.
Not even her name. Not even that he wasn’t single anymore.
“I’m...no, I’m really...” she started, but her voice cracked. “I’m not a fan. I’m with him. He invited me.”
Lily’s smile faltered, only a little.
“Well, you’re too pretty to be chasing after Lando Norris,” she said, amused again. “I’ll give you that.”
Carmen shrugged. “Don’t say that. Maybe the boy would be interested.”
Lily laughed again. “Yeah, maybe for a quickie in the bathroom.”
She flinched. She didn’t even realize it had happened until her drink slipped slightly in her grip and she clutched it harder, desperate for something to hold onto.
Her vision blurred again.
Not from panic this time.
But from tears.
“I...okay. I’ll go now,” she whispered.
No one stopped her.
No one even called after her.
She turned and walked quickly toward the lower deck, breath catching in her throat like a fishhook.
She barely saw the stairs. Her heels thudded against the wood. Her chest was rising and falling too fast now, way too fast and the air felt thin. Her ears rang. The walls of the boat shifted, too close, too loud, too bright.
She leaves the boat, leaving all the noises and the people behind her and rush to the street of Monaco, searching for a place to be alone. Finnaly she find herself in a quiet park not so far away from the harbor and sank to the floor, clutching her knees to her chest, and let herself break.
The first sob escaped like a gasp, sharp and ugly and desperate. Her shoulders shook. Her face crumpled. The pain wasn’t just in her head anymore it was in her chest, her lungs, her fingers.
Lando hadn’t come.
The boys hadn’t said anything.
The girls hadn’t known her name.
They had laughed at her.
She was invisible.
Unwanted.
Forgotten.
She pressed her forehead to her knees and tried to breathe, but it hurt. Everything hurt.
And worst of all, she still hadn’t heard from him.
On the boat Lando came back to the corner where he’d left her after his talk with his friend but the space was empty.
His steps slowed.
She wasn’t on the bench. She wasn’t standing by the railing. Her glass was gone. Her bag wasn’t there. The only thing left behind was a chill settling into his spine.
“Love?” he called, scanning the crowd.
No answer.
No trace of her.
His stomach twisted.
He turned, quickly crossing the deck until he spotted Carlos and Alex nearby, leaned against the bar, drinks in hand, heads thrown back in laughter over something stupid.
Carlos. The one he’d asked to stay with her.
The one who’d nodded and said “Sure” like it meant something.
Lando stormed toward them, heat flaring under his skin.
“Have you seen my girlfriend?” he demanded.
Carlos blinked, eyebrows raised. “What?”
“The girl you were supposed to be with.” Lando said again, sharper this time.
Carlos looked around vaguely. “She’s not there?”
Alex shook his head. “Didn’t she go with you?”
“No,” Lando snapped. “I left her with you. I asked you to watch her.”
Carlos shrugged, unimpressed. “She’s not five, mate. Can’t she be alone for two seconds?”
Lando stared at him, stunned, furious, disappointed.
Then he just turned and walked away.
Fine. He’d find her himself.
His hand was shaking slightly as he pulled out his phone.
Two notifications.
Where are you? Please come back.
I can’t do this.
His heart dropped.
The screen blurred for a second, and he realized his hands were sweaty. His chest tightened. He turned in a slow circle, scanning every face on deck, hoping, praying, he’d missed her in the crowd.
Nothing.
The panic hit him full force.
Then he saw them, Carmen, Lily, and Rebecca, still near the main deck steps, chatting over glasses of wine, laughing softly.
He moved fast.
“Hey...sorry...” He didn’t mean to sound breathless, but he was. “Have any of you seen my girlfriend?”
They looked at him in unison.
Rebecca blinked. “Wait, your what?”
“My girlfriend.” His voice cracked. “She’s wearing a blue dress. She’s been missing for fifteen minutes, and she’s panicking. I need to find her.”
Lily frowned. “Is this a joke?”
Lando’s jaw tightened. “What?”
She laughed awkwardly. “Since when do you have a girlfriend ?”
Lando felt something break.
“Why the hell is no one taking this seriously?” he snapped. “She’s here. Alone. Anxious. She was with Carlos, then she was gone. I thought she might’ve come to you. I thought you’d help.”
Rebecca held up a hand. “Hang on. Back up.”
Rebecca turned to her. “Lily. Was there a girl earlier? Blue dress? Said she was with Lando?”
Lily’s expression changed.
She went pale. “Oh… fuck.”
Lando felt his stomach drop. “You saw her?”
Lily looked at him, guilt flooding her face. “We thought she was joking. Or a fan. She said she was your girlfriend, and we laughed. I...God, I didn’t know.”
Carmen’s eyes widened. “She seemed confused. A little lost.”
Lando ran a hand down his face. “So the guys never told you?”
They all shook their heads.
“I asked them to tell you,” he muttered, half to himself. “I asked...”
Lily stepped forward. “Lando… I didn’t know. I swear. She just… showed up. And I thought…”
Lando didn’t wait to hear the rest.
He turned, heart pounding, anger pulsing under his skin like fire.
He wanted to throw something. Scream. Hit the railing until his knuckles bled.
But he couldn’t.
He had to find her.
Now.
She wasn’t on the top deck.
She wasn’t at the bar, or by the steps, or near the back railing.
She wasn’t on the lower level either.
Lando checked the bathroom. The shaded canopy. The back staircase. He even opened the tiny cabin doors below deck that were never used during parties.
Nothing.
“Baby?” he called again, voice hoarse. “Fuck, where are you?”
Still nothing.
He called her phone. Straight to voicemail.
He sent another text:
Please. Answer me. I’m looking for you. I’m so sorry.
His chest ached.
She was gone. She must’ve left.
He paced the deck one last time, scanning every corner of the crowd, heart pounding so loudly he couldn’t hear anything else.
Then he made a decision, he had to get off this boat.
She might’ve gone home. Or tried to. Maybe she was walking through Monaco right now, sobbing, terrified, thinking she wasn’t enough for the world he’d dragged her into.
George was standing near the entrance ramp, drink in hand like none of it mattered.
Lando walked up fast.
“I’m leaving.”
George blinked. “What?”
“I need to go. Now.”
George tilted his head, amused. “Shame. We barely saw you.”
That was it. The final straw.
Lando’s jaw clenched, and for one full breath, he tried to swallow the fury down.
Then he snapped.
“Are you serious right now?” he said, loud enough that a few heads turned.
George’s smile faltered. “What?”
“You never tell me this will be a fucking party, George,” Lando said, every word sharp. “I thought it was going to be a chill afternoon. For you guys to finally meet my girlfriend. For you to be kind. For your girlfriends to make her feel welcome.”
People were staring now.
Lando didn’t care.
“And instead,” he said, voice rising, “you forgot she was even coming. You didn’t tell the girls anything. You didn’t remember her name. You ignored her. Made jokes about her. She stood alone on this boat for hours while all of you acted like she didn’t exist.”
George stepped back slightly, brows drawn. “Lando...”
“She’s not used to this,” Lando continued, chest heaving. “She hates parties. She came here for me. She pushed herself for me. And you, all of you, made fun of her. You made her feel small.”
Carlos appeared beside them, drink still in hand. “Alright, man. Maybe don’t blow up. We didn’t know it was serious, your with a different model every week.”
Lando turned, slowly.
“First,” he said, “she is not a fucking model.”
Carlos’s smirk dropped.
“Second, it’s been six months. She’s been in my life every single day since then.”
Silence.
“Third, I’m in love with her.”
His voice cracked.
“I’ve been trying to tell you. I kept fucking saying it. But no one listened.”
Alex appeared behind Carlos, expression tight.
“Fourth,” Lando said, voice breaking now, “she’s gone. Because of this. Because she trusted me to protect her. And I didn’t.”
He stepped back, breath shaking.
“I need to find my girlfriend. Who is probably having a panic attack somewhere in Monaco right now. Because this? This was a joke to all of you.”
He turned without another word and walked off the boat.
No one followed..
His mind raced.
What if she wasn’t just walking? What if she got lost? What if someone followed her? What if she was hurt?
He’d seen her fall apart before.
In private. In silence. In his arms.
But never alone. Never like this.
He ran to the marina first, the quieter edge, where she once told him the benches by the garden overlooked the sea and made her feel calmer.
Nothing.
He tried the art gallery they passed every morning. The bookstore tucked behind the cathedral. The little café with the green shutters she loved.
Still nothing.
His throat burned. He hadn’t stopped moving.
He ducked into alleyways. Crossed streets without looking. He saw someone in a blue dress near the market and sprinted, only to find a stranger with too-dark hair and a confused smile.
He swore. Loudly.
He didn’t care who stared.
“Baby!” he called again, voice hoarse. “Please!”
He was on the verge of crying now. Sweat stuck to his shirt. His hands shook when he texted again:
I’m so sorry. I swear I didn’t know they’d treat you like that. I didn’t know they’d forget. I hate them. I hate myself even more. Please just let me find you.
And then, he turned a corner and saw her.
She was curled against a bench at the edge of a quiet park. Tucked between two tall hedges, hidden from view. Her back was pressed to the wrought-iron armrest, her legs drawn up to her chest, arms around her knees, head buried in her sleeves.
Her blue dress was wrinkled. Her shoes were off.
She was shaking.
Even from ten steps away, he saw it.
Lando froze and the world stopped moving.
He dropped to his knees beside her, breath gone, heart in his throat.
“Baby...” His voice broke. “I’m here. I found you.”
She didn’t look up.
She was crying so hard she couldn’t breathe, short, sharp gasps, her whole body trembling.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her in without hesitation. “I’m here. I’m right here.”
She flinched at first, instinct, but then melted into him once she recognises his scent, like every part of her had been waiting to fall.
He held her tighter.
So tight it hurt. So tight it might undo everything if he just squeezed hard enough.
Her hands clutched at his shirt, desperate. Her tears soaked into his chest. He kissed her temple again and again, his own eyes burning.
“You’re okay,” he whispered, rocking them gently. “You’re safe. I’m here now. I’ve got you.”
She sobbed harder.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice cracked wide open. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
Her breath hitched again, the kind of sound that broke people.
“They laughed at me,” she choked out.
He closed his eyes. His arms tightened around her.
“I know,” he whispered. “I know, love. I know. They didn’t know. They didn’t even try to know. They treated you like nothing. And I let them.”
She shook her head against him, like she couldn’t bear the sound of it.
“I asked them to be kind. I thought they’d listen. I thought they’d care because I care. Because I love you.”
Her breath caught.
He pulled back just enough to see her face: red, streaked with mascara, eyes wide and full of hurt.
His hands cupped her cheeks.
“I love you,” he repeated, voice trembling. “So much. And I let them make you feel like you weren’t real. Like you weren’t mine. Like you didn’t matter. And I will never stop being sorry for that.”
She stared at him.
“You told them,” she whispered. “You told them I was coming?”
“I did,” he said. “They didn’t listen. They forgot. And I didn’t see how bad it was getting until it was too late.”
“I didn’t want to ruin anything,” she said, voice small. “But when Lily laughed at me...”
He shook his head.
“I thought… if I just tried hard enough… they’d like me.”
He kissed her forehead. Her cheek. Her hands.
“They don’t deserve to know you,” he said. “You gave them a chance. And they wasted it.”
She clung to him, chest still hiccuping with the tail end of her panic.
“I think I've ruined everything,” she whispered.
Lando rested his forehead against hers. “No. Never. The only thing that’s ruined is how I see them now.”
She sniffled, her fingers curling around his. “You found me.”
“Always,” he said. “I will always find you.”
He kissed her again, softly, reverently and held her until the trembling slowed. Until her breath evened out. Until her hand in his stopped shaking.
And even then, he didn’t let go.
The ride back to the apartment was silent.
Not the cold kind, not angry, not distant, just exhausted.
She sat beside him in the car, legs curled toward the door, one hand fisted in the sleeve of her cardigan and the other resting lightly in his. Her fingers were still cold. Her eyes, red and puffy, stayed focused on the passing lights outside the window.
Lando didn’t let go of her once.
He didn’t speak, either. Not yet. He just kept running his thumb across the top of her hand, again and again, as if reminding her: I’m here. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.
When they pulled up to the flat, he helped her out carefully. Her legs were unsteady. He didn’t ask if she was okay. He didn’t have to. He already knew she wasn't.
He unlocked the door with one hand and kept the other wrapped around her back. She didn’t resist. She didn’t even look up as they stepped inside. The lights were low. The curtains drawn. The city outside muffled like the world had finally taken a breath and left them alone.
“Sit,” he whispered, guiding her gently to the edge of the bed.
She sat down like her body didn’t belong to her anymore.
He knelt in front of her and removed her shoes one by one, placing them neatly by the wall. Then he reached for the blanket at the foot of the bed and wrapped it around her shoulders. She pulled it tighter without a word.
“I’ll be right back,” he said softly.
She didn’t respond.
He went to the kitchen and filled a glass of water, grabbing the tin of calming tea bags she liked just in case she asked for one later. He brought both to the nightstand.
When he returned, she was exactly where he left her, curled forward, arms tucked close, her chin resting just above her knees.
He crouched down again, searching her eyes.
“Can I help you change?” he asked gently. “Get you into something more comfy?”
She nodded, barely.
He helped her stand. Found her softest oversized t-shirt and cotton shorts. Kept his gaze averted, not because he didn’t want to see her but because this wasn’t about that. This was about care. About not making her do anything alone.
Once she was dressed, he pulled back the covers, guided her into bed, and climbed in beside her.
She curled toward him instinctively.
That was when he exhaled, for the first time since he’d found her.
He held her for a long time.
Her head rested on his chest. One arm draped across his stomach. Her breathing was shallow but steady now. He traced slow circles on her back, just the way she liked.
When she finally spoke, her voice was so soft he almost missed it.
“I didn’t want to ruin the day.”
Lando’s throat tightened.
“You didn’t ruin anything,” he whispered. “They did.”
“I wanted to make a good impression.”
“You did. They were just shitty friends.”
Her hand gripped the fabric of his shirt.
“I felt like I didn’t exist.”
He kissed her forehead. “They were blind.”
“I tried,” she said, a single tear rolling across his chest. “I really tried to be brave.”
“I know,” he said, swallowing hard. “You were. You are.”
He tilted her chin gently, brushing his lips against her damp cheeks, her temple, her jaw.
“I’m so sorry, angel,” he whispered. “I should’ve seen it earlier. Should’ve protected you. Should’ve known better than to trust them with something so important.”
“You didn’t know.”
“I should have.”
Her eyes searched his. “You really told them?”
“I told them everything,” he said. “I said I’d been with you for six months. I said I was happy. I asked them to tell the girls. I begged them to be kind. They didn’t care. They didn’t listen.”
She swallowed hard. “They didn’t even know my name.”
Lando closed his eyes.
“I’ll never let that happen again.”
Later, when she was finally asleep, face pressed against his neck, breath warm and even, Lando stayed awake.
He watched the ceiling.
He watched her hand resting over his heart.
And he knew that the next time he brought her into his world, the world would know who she was.
