Until my Last Breath

22

        Barcelona, Spain

The soft rustling of the trees in the park is the only sound that fills the heavy air. The warm afternoon sun is low, casting long shadows on the cobblestone path, but I barely notice it. My heart is hammering in my chest, each beat sending a ripple of nervous energy through my body. I've been dreading this moment—meeting Lando again after everything that happened. After months of avoiding him, I can't pretend I haven't thought about him. But this? This is something different.

Lando stands just a few feet away, looking as familiar as ever. His dark hair, tousled, his hands shoved in his pockets, his jaw tight with what I know is a mix of nerves and regret. He looks like the same Lando I spent all those months with last summer, the one who knew everything about me, the one who made me laugh until my stomach hurt, the one who held me when I felt scared, when I was angry, when I just needed to be held. But that's not the same person standing before me now. This is a man who caused so much pain , and for months I've been burying that hurt under layers of distraction.

But there's no running from it anymore. He's here.

"Rita," he says my name softly, almost hesitantly. It's the same voice that used to comfort me, the one I could always count on, the one I thought I could trust no matter what. But now, hearing it again just makes everything feel so complicated. My gaze flickers to the ground, avoiding his eyes as if I could escape the weight of what's about to happen.

He takes a step closer, his presence like a gravitational pull I can't seem to break free from. I feel a deep ache in my chest, a pang of longing mixed with hurt. How did we get here? How did everything spiral out of control so quickly?

"Ree," he says again, this time with more urgency. I can feel his eyes on me, even if I refuse to meet them. "I need to talk to you."

The words that come from my mouth are barely a whisper. "I don't think there's much to say."

But Lando doesn't back down. He's here to fix things, and I know it. He's been trying to find the right moment for months, trying to reach out in whatever way he can—through messages, calls, even a few awkward run-ins at races—but I always managed to avoid him. I told myself it was for the best. I told myself that I didn't need him, that I could move on. But deep down, there was always that voice that whispered, What if?

"Please," he continues, his voice quieter now, almost pleading. "Just let me explain. I owe you that much."

I finally raise my eyes to meet his, and the moment they lock, my breath catches in my throat. There's a rawness there, a vulnerability I didn't expect to see in him. It's the same Lando I knew, the one who wore his heart on his sleeve, but now... now it's like he's completely exposed, and it hurts.

"I want to apologize for that night," he says, his voice steady but thick with regret.

I let out a breath, shaking my head as I close my eyes briefly. The memory of that night flashes in my mind—the words, the anger, the hurt. Every part of me still burns from it, and hearing him say that feels like salt being poured into an old wound that was just starting to scab over.

"Lando, please," I murmur, trying to push it all away. "Don't—"

"No, Rita, listen to me." He steps closer, his hands reaching out, gently taking mine. His grip is warm, but it doesn't bring the comfort it once did. "I owe you more than just an apology. I owe you the truth. That night... I was a mess. I was hurt, and I didn't know how to deal with it. I know that the things I said were... unforgivable. I hate myself for it."

I swallow hard, trying to keep my composure, but the walls I've spent months building start to crack. "I don't know, Lando," I say, voice shaking. "I don't know if I can just forget everything that happened."

"I know I can't take back the words I said," he continues, his voice lower now, full of sincerity. "But what I need you to know is that I was never in control of my emotions. I was drunk, I was angry, and I took it all out on you. But it wasn't you. It was me, and I need you to understand that."

I scoff, pulling my hands back from his. "Drunk words are sober thoughts, Lando. You said what you meant. I know you did."

His face falls, and I can see the guilt in his eyes. He takes another step forward, desperation creeping into his voice. "No, Rita. I mean it when I say that I was wrong. I've never been so ashamed of myself in my life. You... you are the strongest person I know. You deserve everything good in this world, and I was too blind to see that in the moment."

I close my eyes, trying to steady myself. The pain of what he said that night still lingers. It eats at me. The words he threw at me, the things he said about me—about my family, my name, my career—those things aren't easy to forget. And yet... I can't seem to shake this feeling in my chest. This gnawing sense that maybe, just maybe, there's still a part of me that wants to hear him out.

"You don't understand, Lando," I say, my voice quieter now. "I loved you so much. Maybe not the same way, but I loved you. And the things you said that night? It destroyed me. It made me question everything—about myself, about my place in this world. About you." My voice cracks, and I can feel the tears threatening to fall. I swallow hard, fighting to keep them at bay. "Why would you ruin something so good?"

The words hang in the air between us, thick with emotion. Lando's eyes flicker with pain, and I can see the regret in them. He looks like he's going to say something, but instead, he stays silent, his lips trembling slightly. I can't meet his eyes anymore. The pain in them is too much.

"I know, Rita," he says softly, after a long pause. "I know I can't take back what I said, and I don't expect you to forgive me just like that. But what I want... what I need, is for you to give me a chance. I want to rebuild what we had. I miss you. So much. I miss the good times, the laughter, the moments we shared."

I look away, trying to gather my thoughts. My heart is pounding in my chest. I can't make sense of it all. There's a part of me that wants to scream at him, to tell him that everything is ruined beyond repair. But there's another part of me—the part that still cares for him—that wants to believe that we could somehow fix this, that we could find a way back to what we had.

I take a deep breath, and when I finally speak, my voice is barely a whisper. "I missed you too, Lan."

I hear him shift in his seat beside me. For a moment, there's nothing but silence, thick and suffocating, before he speaks again.

"What was that?" he asks, a grin starting to form on his face, a flicker of hope igniting in his eyes.

"You heard me," I say, barely able to stop the smile from tugging at my lips.

In an instant, he's on his feet, moving towards me with a speed that takes me by surprise. Before I can even process what's happening, he's pulling me into his arms, holding me tightly as though he never plans to let me go. I freeze at first, shocked by the suddenness of the movement, but then something inside me breaks. The tension, the pain, the distance between us—it all melts away in this one, simple gesture.

I hold onto him tightly, not caring about the world around us. This hug is more than just a physical embrace. It's the apology I never thought I would hear. It's the chance to heal the wound that's been festering for months.

"God, how stupid was I to risk losing this," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion.

"Very stupid," I whisper back, a soft chuckle escaping my lips.

He presses a kiss to the top of my head, and I close my eyes, feeling the warmth of his arms around me. I never thought I'd feel this again. I never thought I'd be here, holding him, after everything that happened. But somehow, in this moment, it feels like the world is right again.

"Wanna eat?" he asks, pulling back slightly, his face soft with relief.

"Yes, please," I answer, still not quite believing that we've reached this point.

Together, we sit down, and for the first time in a long while, the weight of everything seems just a little bit lighter.