𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐋𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐒 | 𝐋𝐍𝟒

𝐗𝐈𝐗

Porto Recanati – 14th May

The small vintage restaurant wasn't too busy on a Tuesday evening. It was quiet, the air filled with the warm scent of basil and rosemary.

Lando sat at the table, dressed in a hoodie and a beanie to hide his identity as much as he could. It seemed to work, and besides, the restaurant wasn't full. He ate his salad in silence while everyone around him enjoyed plates of rich Italian pasta. But it was race week—he couldn't afford a cheat meal.

Next to him, Max was talking, probably about Miami. His girlfriend, Pietra, sat beside him, chiming in every now and then. But Lando wasn't listening.

He should be happy. He had just won the last Grand Prix in Miami, and now he was heading into Imola with a strong car and a real shot at winning again. But he wasn't.

And it had nothing to do with Formula 1.

For the first time in a while, racing felt good. It wasn't weighing on him the way it sometimes did. But something else was.

Milaine.

Since she had sent him Johan's helmet, he had been trying to reach her. Calling, texting—hoping she would answer. She never did.

Then, when he saw the videos from the Italian Open final—her falling, struggling—followed by her complete disappearance from the public eye, his worry only grew worse. He had called her at least a hundred times. He just wanted to make sure she was okay. He just wanted to hear her voice. But every time, it went straight to voicemail.

For a moment, he blamed himself.

After the charity match afterparty, when he found out she was going back to Andrey, he had distanced himself. Maybe it was petty, but it hurt. So he pulled away.

He had watched her win in Madrid. He was so happy for her, so proud. But he hadn't texted her. He hadn't liked or commented on her post to congratulate her. Maybe he should have let go of his pride, reached out. Because when he won, she had given him a gift that meant more than anything in the world.

Now, all he felt was guilt.

«I'm still so pissed I wasn't in Miami.» Max said with a chuckle. «But I'll see it happen this weekend, right, Bob?»

Silence.

Lando didn't react. He just sat there, staring into space, lost in thought.

Max frowned, exchanging a look with Pietra, and tried again «Bob?»

Pietra looked just as confused, She waved a hand in front of Lando's face. «Lando!»

He blinked, snapping back to reality «What?»

Max raised an eyebrow. «Oh, mate, you don't get to brush it off like that. What's going on?»

«Nothing» Lando said quickly, shrugging like it was no big deal.

Max wasn't buying it. «Nothing? Really? Because you looked like you were on another planet»

Lando exhaled, shifting in his seat. «I was just thinking.«

Max leaned in. «Thinking about what?»

Lando quickly make an excuse «It's just about the race strategy-»

But before he could finish his words, a sudden, sharp clash of piano keys cut through the restaurant like a bolt of lightning.

The chaotic noise grabbed everyone's attention, pulling their gazes toward the corner of the room where a grand old piano stood.