Flight Attendant - Lando norris fanfic

31 - A voice unbroken

The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting golden streaks across the living room. It should have been comforting, but instead, it felt almost mocking, its warmth and brightness so at odds with the storm brewing in my chest. I sat cross-legged on the plush couch, my laptop balanced on my knees. The cursor blinked back at me, each flicker a reminder of the words I had yet to type. My heart hammered in my chest, my hands clammy as I stared at the empty text box.

This was it. The moment I would take back control of my narrative. I could still feel the tightness in my throat, the cold dread of facing something so monumental and public, but I knew it had to be done. Not just for me, but for Lando, for everyone who had been dragged into this mess without warning. And, most importantly, for any other person who had ever felt small and powerless, just as I had.

Lando knelt in front of me, his hands gently resting on my knees, his green eyes filled with unwavering support. His hair was slightly tousled, evidence of him running his fingers through it repeatedly out of sheer anxiety. We had been through so much together in such a short time, and now, this was another test—one that felt even heavier because it involved both our reputations, our careers, our safety.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" His voice was low, steady, but tinged with worry. "Once it's out there, there's no taking it back."

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. "I've thought about it over and over. I can't let this fear control me anymore, baby. And I can't let you take the fall for something that isn't your fault." My voice cracked slightly, and I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the tears away.

Lando's hands tightened slightly, grounding me. "Hey," he whispered, his thumbs brushing soothing circles over my knees. "You're the bravest person I know. And if you're sure, then I'm here. Right beside you. Whatever happens, we'll face it together, as always"

I opened my eyes, my vision blurred with unshed tears, and found his gaze unwavering. The love and determination in his eyes made the storm inside me feel just a little more bearable. "I just... I want people to know the truth," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "I want them to know that Aaron Miller isn't some charming pop star. He's a man who hurt me, who made me feel powerless. And the airline—" My voice trembled with anger. "They should've protected me. They should protect everyone.God knows how many of us are out there".

Lando moved to sit beside me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and pulling me close. "You're incredible, you know that?" he murmured. "It's not your responsibility to warn the world, but the fact that you're willing to... It speaks volumes about who you are."

I leaned into him, drawing strength from his presence. "I'm scared," I admitted. "Not just about the backlash, but... about reliving it. About how people will look at me once they know. Will they pity me? Will they think I'm weak?"

He pressed a kiss to my temple, his lips warm against my skin. "You're anything but weak, Cordy. You survived something unimaginable, and now you're standing up not just for yourself, but for others. That takes strength. And anyone who doesn't see that doesn't deserve your time or energy."

A tear slipped down my cheek, and I let out a shaky breath. "Thank you," I whispered. "For being here. For understanding."

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look into my eyes. "Always," he promised, his voice full of conviction. "I'll always be here. I love you"

We sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the upcoming storm pressing down on us. I drew a deep breath and turned back to my laptop. The words I had written earlier stared back at me, a mix of vulnerability and defiance. My statement was simple, but raw and honest:

"Today, I'm sharing something deeply personal, not for sympathy or validation, but because it's time to shed light on an experience that too many of us endure in silence. Almost a year ago, I was assaulted by Aaron Miller while on a work trip to Ibiza. The details of that night are something I've had to relive over and over, each memory cutting deeper. I've carried the trauma with me, the fear and anxiety that shadowed every day since. It's taken me nearly a year to find the courage to speak out, and last night, everything came rushing back when I was forced to confront him again.

Lando, the person I'm lucky to call my partner, did not act out of aggression or jealousy, as some rumors suggest. He defended me. He acted out of protection and love, because he saw the fear in my eyes and knew the weight I had been carrying in silence. The man who hurt me was not just an assailant—he was a representation of the system that has failed to protect so many of us.

Women are among the most vulnerable, not only in the physical spaces we occupy but in the way society and institutions respond to our safety. The private airline I worked for then did not prioritize our well-being, and in many ways, they allowed predators to operate unchecked. This isn't just about my story; it's about a much larger issue that women face worldwide. We deserve to be protected, to feel safe in our workplaces, and to be taken seriously when we report our traumas.

I have remained silent for so long because I feared the repercussions. I feared that no one would believe me, or worse, that speaking out would only paint me as a victim. But I am tired of feeling powerless. By telling my story, I hope to raise awareness of how crucial it is to hold those responsible accountable and to advocate for systems that prioritize the safety and respect of all individuals.

I know there will be backlash. I know not everyone will understand. But I cannot let my fear outweigh the need to stand up, not just for myself, but for anyone who has ever felt vulnerable, unprotected, or ignored. We all deserve better. We deserve workplaces that care about our safety, systems that protect us, and a culture that no longer tolerates harm in any form.

To those who support me, to those who understand or have lived through similar experiences: Thank you. Your strength inspires me, and I hope that in some way, mine can inspire you too. And to the women out there who still feel voiceless or afraid, I see you. We are in this together."

I read it over once more, my hands trembling. It was imperfect, raw, but it was mine. My truth. And that had to be enough.

I took a deep breath and hovered over the "Post" button, my heart pounding in my ears. I felt Lando's hand slip into mine, his grip warm and reassuring. "Ready?" he asked softly.

I nodded, exhaling slowly. "Ready."

I clicked the button, and with that, my statement was released into the world. There was no turning back now.

The hours that followed were a blur of notifications and messages. My phone buzzed incessantly, each ping another reminder of the tidal wave I had unleashed. I couldn't bring myself to read the comments right away, too afraid of what I might find. But soon enough, the messages began pouring in from people I knew—friends, colleagues, even strangers—offering words of support, solidarity, and shared experiences.

It wasn't all positive, of course. There were the inevitable trolls, the skeptics who claimed I was attention-seeking or lying. But for every hateful comment, there were ten more that reminded me why I had done this. Messages from survivors thanking me for speaking up, from women and men who had faced similar horrors and felt seen.

Lando stayed beside me through it all, his presence a constant source of comfort. His phone buzzed just as often, messages from McLaren and the racing community pouring in. But instead of retreating, McLaren released their own statement, standing firmly by their driver:

"McLaren stands with Cordelia Haldstead and Lando Norris. The safety and well-being of all individuals, both within our team and beyond, are of utmost importance. We are committed to supporting them and advocating for the safety of all."

Seeing that made me feel a little less alone, a little less like the world was entirely against us.

Lando pulled me into his arms again, holding me close as the weight of it all settled over us. "You did the right thing," he murmured into my hair. "No matter what happens next, you were brave enough to tell your story. And I'm so damn proud of you."

I clung to him, feeling the tears spill over. It wasn't over. There would be more hurdles, more battles to face. But in that moment, with Lando's arms around me and the truth finally out in the world, I felt something I hadn't felt in a long time: hope.