"What if we're better as a team?" Lando asked, his gaze softening.
"We're better as rivals," Rose replied, her heart pulling her in two directions.
In this world of speed ambition friendship and love, every race could change everything-on and off th...
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The air was thick with the scent of lilies. Rose stood by the gravesite, her heart splintered into a thousand pieces. Overhead, the sky was a dull gray—muted, as if even the heavens mourned the loss of Lando Norris. It had been two weeks since that horrific night in Bahrain, and the world had moved on, but for Rose, time had come to a standstill.
The racing community had gathered to pay their respects. Friends, teammates, fans. All came to honor Lando's memory. Rose stood there, her fingers clutching the bracelet he had given her, the words "Lando and Rose, Always" now a cruel reminder of what she had lost. Every second felt like an eternity as she watched them place Lando's helmet on the podium one last time, a symbol of his racing spirit that had been extinguished far too soon.
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The days after Lando's death were a haze. Ceremonies blurred together, tributes faded into the background. Rose drifted through it all, her mind numbed by grief. The nights were the hardest; in the stillness of their empty home, she could almost hear his voice, feel the warmth of his embrace. But each time she reached out, she was met with cold emptiness.
She found herself drawn to his belongings, seeking comfort in the traces of him that lingered. His DJ palette sat on the corner of the desk, untouched. The last mix he had been working on still glowed faintly on the screen, frozen in time. She hesitated before touching it, her fingers trembling as they grazed the smooth buttons. Closing her eyes, she could almost imagine him standing there, head bobbing to the beat, that boyish grin lighting up his face.
In the closet, his golf clubs leaned neatly against the wall, a testament to his love for the game. Rose knelt beside them, her hands gently wrapping around the handle of his favourite putter. Her breath hitched as she noticed the faint engraving on the shaft: Lando. The personalized golf clubs with their matching bag had been her gift to him for his 30th birthday, a surprise that had left him speechless. She could still hear his voice, brimming with gratitude and disbelief, as he had pulled her into a tight hug that day.
"Rose, you're amazing," he had said, his eyes sparkling. "I'll win every game with these. Just wait."
Now, the sight of his name etched into the metal made her chest tighten. She traced the letters with her finger, the memories of sunny afternoons on the golf course flooding back—his determined stance, the playful glint in his eyes when he nailed a tricky shot, and the way he'd always insist she was his good luck charm. Tears streamed down her face as she clutched the club, the familiar feel of the grip a bittersweet reminder of their shared moments.
