At 3:27 in the morning, your phone rings. You're not sleeping, as usual. Insomnia has been creeping in for weeks now. It's either sleeping pills or no sleep at all. You don't even bother to look at the screen. You know who is calling you. You hate him more and more with every call. You've told him so many times not to do this anymore, but he refuses to listen to you. He knows all too well that he needs to move on, but his heart just won't allow him to do so.
You couldn't really be mad at him for that because you knew all too well how hard it is to convince your heart to do something it doesn't want to do. Lando has a problem with not being able to stop loving you, and you have a problem with not being able to start loving him.
It's not like you didn't want to, but you just couldn't. He was the first person to ask you questions about yourself, who maintained your eye contact like it's what he was put on this earth to do, so why could you not allow yourself to fall for him? You keep wondering.
As the phone continues to ring in the dimly lit room, you can't help but feel a mix of frustration and resignation. Part of you knows it would be easier to pretend. You would just pretend to love him, and you could have the most luxurious life you can imagine. You would have someone who loves you unconditionally and would do everything for you. Everything many girls dream about, but you fear the idea of possibly living the rest of your life with someone you don't love.
He's offering you an unwavering love, a love that would provide security and comfort. But it's a love that you can't return, no matter how hard you try. Deep down, you understand that true love can't be forced. Pretending to love him would be a betrayal, not only to him but also to yourself. The thought of living a life where love is a facade, where your heart doesn't truly belong, fills you with dread.
As the phone continues to ring, your emotions swirl like a storm within you. You can't hate Lando for loving you, just as you can't hate yourself for not reciprocating.
"Why are you calling?" You asked him quietly.
On the other end, Lando's voice quivers slightly as he responds, "I can't sleep. I just needed to hear your voice."
His words, though familiar, still manage to pierce through your defences. You know the torment he's going through, the same torment that keeps you awake at night. It's a heartache you both share, even if it's for different reasons.
It is so wrong. You know this situation is hurting both of you. You wish you could make it easier for him, but you know there's no cure for a broken heart. "Lando," you say, your tone softening, "we've talked about this. We can't keep doing this to ourselves. It's not healthy." He can't keep doing this to himself.
There's a heavy silence on the other end, and you can sense the weight of his emotions pressing down on him. "I know," he finally admits. It sounds like one part of him finally realised and admitted that it's indeed over. "But I can't stop loving you."
Your heart aches as you hear the pain in his voice. You've been down this road with him so many times, and you both know that these late-night calls and unspoken yearnings are taking a toll on both of you.
"Is there something I can do to make it easier for you?"
There's a brief pause on the other end of the line as if Lando is considering your question carefully. "I don't know," he finally responds. "Maybe... maybe don't pick up the call next time I call you?" He says, but it sounds more like a question rather than a statement.
His suggestion catches you off guard, and for a moment, you're unsure of how to respond. You swallow loudly. You don't want to lose Lando from your life, but you know it's more than selfish to ask him to remain in your life. It would be painful for him.
"If that's gonna help you. I don't want to see you suffering," you reply, your voice filled with genuine concern.
"I know," he whispers. That's the only thing he's certain about. That you didn't mean to cause any harm.
"Maybe... maybe we will meet again in our thirties and maybe time and everything will be right, and we'll end up together," you say as a try to soothe him a bit.
"Maybe. Who knows really? I don't want to think about it, to be honest. Because it's not something that is happening right now," he kind of dismisses any ideas about the future. It was something that would give him hope. He would keep yearning for you and that is something he no longer wants to do.
"I understand," you reply softly. "I'm gonna hang up now, okay?" Your voice isn't as confident as usual. Actually, you're on the verge of tears. It hurts letting him go, but you have to do it for both of you.
"Tell me something, please. Anything. Let me enjoy your voice for the last time," he pleads. He says that, but you're sure that he will call again and again, and the calls will become less and less frequent until he stops calling at all.
With a heavy heart, you decide to share another memory, one that holds a special place in both your hearts. "Alright, Lando," you begin, your voice trembling slightly, "let me tell you about my first time in the paddock."
A faint smile touches your lips as you recall the details. "You were there, of course, looking dashing in your racing suit. I couldn't help but feel a surge of pride knowing that you were the reason I was allowed there. You showed me around and made me feel like I belonged there."
Your voice softens as you continue. "That day, Lando, I saw a glimpse of the incredible person you are, not just as a driver but as a human being. You're passionate, driven, and caring, and I will always cherish that memory."
"Thank you for sharing that," Lando finally says, his voice filled with genuine gratitude. "It was one of my favourite days too."
As you listen to his words, you can't help but feel a bittersweet sense of closure. You know it's time to say goodbye.
"I'm going to hang up now, Lando," you say softly. "I hope you find the happiness and love you deserve, whether it's on the racetrack or in your personal life. Take care of yourself, okay?"
With those words, you gently hang up the phone, and this time, the silence in the room feels like a step toward closure.
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