𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐃𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨 𝐍𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐬

𝟐𝟑 | 𝚨 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐂𝛐𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝛐𝐧

The Monday after the Silverstone Grand Prix dawned, the echoes of the weekend's intense racing still buzzing faintly in my mind. My body felt tired, but it was my thoughts, my secrets, weighing me down most. George had been nudging me all weekend to finally tell the others about what happened with Nick. He insisted that my friends deserved the truth, and I knew he was right. But there was something paralyzing about the idea of speaking those words out loud. Sharing what had happened felt like dragging everything into the harsh light of day, and I wasn't sure I was ready.

That night, George and I were headed to a dinner planned with Arthur, Charles, Max, and Pierre at a cozy spot Pierre had picked. The others didn't know about Nick, about Lando's unexpected arrival that night. They didn't even know Lando and I had patched things up. The secrecy had become a wall between me and everyone I cared about, and maybe tonight it was time to bring it all down.

As we were getting ready, George stood by the door, waiting as I gathered the nerve to leave.

"It's time, Lis," he said gently, catching my nervous glance in the mirror. "They're your friends. They care about you, and they'll be there for you."

I swallowed, my mouth dry, but nodded. "You're right," I whispered, more to myself than to him. "Let's go."

The evening air felt cool and grounding as we made our way to the restaurant. I had Lando's words of encouragement on repeat in my mind. Before we parted earlier, he had looked me in the eyes and told me, "They deserve to know. And you deserve to be free of this."

When George and I stepped into the restaurant, I saw the others already there. They waved us over, and instantly, I felt a rush of warmth seeing them smile, their laughter filling the air as they shared stories from the weekend. Pierre had even ordered appetizers for the table, some light French delicacies to set the mood. For a moment, the nervousness receded. I could do this, I told myself. They deserved to know, and maybe they'd be able to understand.

But just as I started gathering my courage, I caught sight of a figure entering the restaurant. No. I froze. It was Nick. And next to him, casually laughing, was Wyatt. The laughter and warmth around our table evaporated in an instant, replaced by a heavy silence. George's hand clenched into a fist on the table, the strain of holding himself back visible in his jawline.

I placed my hand on his arm. "George," I whispered, pleading. "Don't make a scene. Not here."

His eyes blazed with anger as he nodded slowly, forcing himself to sit back. The others were all staring, eyes darting between George and me, confusion etched on their faces. I knew it was time. I couldn't run from this anymore.

Without a word, I pushed my chair back and walked outside, unable to face them or Nick. I just needed a moment to catch my breath.

"Sophie, wait," George said, coming after me.

We stood together on the sidewalk, the cool air bracing. His hand found mine, gripping it firmly. "This is it, isn't it? You're going to tell them?"

I nodded. "I know I have to. They're my friends—they need to know what happened, but I'm scared"

Before I could even think to hesitate, I heard the restaurant door open behind us. Pierre, Arthur, Max, and Charles filed out, all looking bewildered.

"What's going on?" Charles asked, his eyes full of concern.

George nodded toward his car parked nearby. "Let's head back to my place. We need to talk."

Back at George's place, we gathered in the living room. The atmosphere was thick with an uneasy silence, as if everyone sensed that something serious was coming but didn't quite know what. I perched on the edge of the couch, feeling every nerve ending prickling with tension. George sat close beside me, his hand steady on my shoulder, a quiet reminder that I wasn't facing this alone.