𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐋𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐒 | 𝐋𝐍𝟒

𝐗𝐋𝐗𝐕𝐈𝐈

A/N: ‼️PLEASE COMMENT YOUR THOUGHTS ‼️

••••••

The next two days settled into a rhythm that felt almost like healing — or at least like breathing again.

Milaine would wake up early , padding barefoot through the quiet house while Lando still slept upstairs. By eight, her team would arrive — Viv with her clipboard and headset, Omar with his bag of bands and massage tools, Willem in his worn navy tracksuit and faded cap.

Lando never came down during those hours. He stayed upstairs — sometimes asleep, sometimes just lying there, sometimes sitting on the edge of the bed with Pochita between his hands, listening distantly to the faint rhythm of balls hitting the court below. He wasn't ready to face anyone else. Only her.

By the time they left, he'd finally appear — quiet, hair messy, hoodie half-zipped. She'd always look up when he walked in, just a small smile, and he'd sit with her at the kitchen counter. Lunch was usually simple — omelettes, salad, pasta — shared in comfortable silence.

Then the afternoons blurred into slow hours on the couch, both of them half-watching movies or half-dozing, limbs tangled under a blanket.

It was peaceful, but restrained. They slept in the same bed, always touching — his arm around her waist, her fingers tracing lazy shapes on his forearm — but they didn't go beyond that. The warmth was there, the comfort was there, but there was distance..

By the third morning, Milaine was out on the hardcourt, sweat glistening on her skin as she practiced serves under the bright Monaco sun.

Her shoulder was taped, Omar kneeling beside her between rounds, adjusting the band. Willem stood by the baseline, stopwatch in hand, giving feedback in his dry, blunt Dutch accent. Viv sat nearby, cross-legged with her tablet, half-listening while answering calls.

Then, unexpectedly, the gate to the hard tennis court opened.

Lando appeared, holding a tray — five cups of steaming tea balanced carefully.

Viv's eyebrows shot up immediately. She didn't say anything, just looked from him to Milaine. Omar froze mid-motion, eyes flicking over but refusing to greet him.

Willem, meanwhile, smiled faintly — one of those quiet, approving smiles old coaches gave when they saw someone trying.

«Tea break?» Willem asked, amused.

Lando nodded. «Thought you could use it.»

He handed the tray to Viv, who looked a little too pleased to have something positive to report later. Omar didn't take his cup, pretending to stretch instead.

Viv sipped hers instantly «Perfect temperature» she muttered — while Willem thanked him and took a long drink.

Milaine didn't say much. She was still cooling down, her racket beside her, towel around her neck. But when Lando set her cup down near her water bottle, she caught his hand for a second — just a small, silent thank you.

Willem, noticing, chuckled under his breath and gestured for Lando to join him by the fence «Come. Let's leave them to it.»

Lando followed him to the fence, and for a while neither of them said anything. Willem leaned his elbows on the railing, watching Milaine.

«You've been here for days and you didn't bother to say Hi. » he said eventually.

Lando huffed a breath. «Trying not to be a distraction.»