Dear Lando - Book Two

𝟺𝟹 ♡ Yellow

Yellow By Coldplay

The morning sun filtered through the blinds of Lando's hotel room in Abu Dhabi, but it brought little comfort. He sat on the edge of his bed, head in his hands, staring blankly at his phone. The final race of the season loomed just hours away, but the usual buzz of adrenaline and excitement was absent.

He felt... hollow.

His mind wasn't on the track, the competition, or even the strategies. It was back in Las Vegas, replaying every word, every moment of the fight with Lana. She wasn't here. For the first time all year, the paddock felt empty without her, even with thousands of people bustling about.

Lando exhaled sharply, running a hand through his tousled curls. He knew this wasn't the right mindset for race day, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd lost something—someone—irreplaceable. And now, with a disappointing P17 in qualifying, it felt like the universe was rubbing salt in the wound.

"Focus, Norris," he muttered to himself. But no matter how hard he tried, his thoughts drifted to her.

Meanwhile, a couple hours away in Monaco, Lana sat in her dimly lit living room, the remnants of an emotional night surrounding her. A box of tissues, an untouched mug of tea, and Lando's journal sat on the coffee table. Her cheeks were stained with tears, her eyes red and puffy.

She had read every word, pouring over the pages like they held the answers to all the questions she hadn't dared to ask. She had stayed up all night, flipping through his deepest thoughts, tracing the arc of his emotions from before they met to the fight that had driven them apart.

And then she reached the final entry.

It wasn't like the others. This one wasn't written to himself or the faceless void he'd confided in for so long. It was addressed to her.

Dear Lana,

The words blurred as fresh tears welled up in her eyes. Beside the entry, taped delicately to the page, was the strip of photos they had taken in the photo booth in Japan. Her fingers trembled as she traced the images—their laughter, the playful glint in his eyes, the way he had kissed her cheek in that final frame.

By the time she finished reading the letter, she was outright sobbing. The weight of his words, the vulnerability he had shown, broke down every wall she'd built since the fight. This wasn't the Lando who had hurt her with his stubbornness or his fear. This was the Lando who had let her in, the one who had shown her a side of himself he kept hidden from everyone else.

Wiping her tears, Lana closed the journal gently, holding it to her chest. She sat there for a long moment, letting her emotions settle into something more resolute. Then, with a deep breath, she reached for her phone.

"Let's try this again," she whispered to herself as she booked the earliest flight to Abu Dhabi.

By the time Lana arrived at the airport, her heart was pounding. She didn't know exactly how she would find him or what she would say. All she knew was that she had to be there. She wouldn't let their story end in uncertainty and regret. She wasn't going to leave things unsaid—not again.

The roar of engines filled the Yas Marina Circuit as the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix began. Lana hurried through the paddock, her heart pounding in her chest, every step bringing her closer to the McLaren garage. She barely had time to check in with security before she found herself inside, surrounded by the papaya-clad team and the bustle of race day.