Until my Last Breath

50

Barcelona, Spain

"Did you hear anything I just said?"

I force a smile, gripping my fork a little tighter. "Yeah, something about Carlos?"

Lando narrows his eyes, clearly not convinced. He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. "Alright, what's up with you?"

"Nothing." The answer comes too fast, too rehearsed.

He tilts his head. "Really? Because you look like someone just ran over your dog."

I exhale sharply. "Maverick is fine, thanks for your concern."

"That's not what I meant, and you know it." His voice softens, but I don't want softness. I don't want to be asked about something I haven't even been able to say out loud to myself properly, let alone to Kika and Alex. I haven't told anyone about what happened with Pablo-the way I stood there, drenched in rain, humiliated and heartbroken all at once.

The way I left without looking back.

Lando studies me, waiting. He's patient, which is the worst part. If he were teasing or pressing, I could shut it down. But patience? That's dangerous. It means he actually cares.

I let out a long breath, trying to find a way out. "I've just had a lot on my mind, that's all."

He hums, taking a sip of his drink. "Work stuff?"

Lando taps his fingers against the table, watching me carefully. "Alright. Work stuff. Sure."

I don't know why I'm holding it all in-maybe because saying it out loud makes it real. Because the second I admit what happened with Pablo, I have to deal with it. And I don't want to.

"Rita."

I glance up. Lando's staring at me again, but this time, there's something different in his eyes. A quiet understanding.

I shift uncomfortably. "What?"

He sighs, setting down his fork. "Look, I get it. If you don't want to talk, fine. But you should at least eat. You're literally just pushing your food around like it offended you."

I glance down at my plate. He's not wrong.

Lando gestures to the untouched pasta. "Come on, just one bite. I won't say anything else, I promise."

I roll my eyes. "Why are you like this?"

"Because I care. And because you look like you haven't eaten in days, which is concerning." He gives me a pointed look.

I press my lips together, then begrudgingly stab a forkful of pasta. Lando watches like he's supervising a child, and when I finally take a bite, he lets out a dramatic sigh of relief.

"There we go. Progress."

I shake my head but don't argue. For a moment, the tension eases. The weight on my chest is still there, but it feels a little less suffocating.

And then, just as I start to think I might make it through this lunch without falling apart, my phone buzzes on the table.

I don't even have to check the screen to know who it is.

I feel it in my bones.

Lando must notice the way I tense, because his expression shifts. "Rita?"

I don't answer. My hand hovers over the phone for a second too long before I finally grab it, flipping it over.

And there it is.

Pablo.

It's been a few good weeks and he's been blowing my phone up ever since.