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Her eyes were filled with tears. Those clear eyes he knew so well.
She had pressed her lips into that tight, thin line she always made when she couldn’t take it anymore.
Then, barely a whisper: “Fuck you.”
She turned, opened the door of that house in Brazil, and walked away without looking back.
Lando stood there, staring at the door long after it had closed, trying to figure out where he had messed up — again.
*
The first time he saw her was in Monaco.
Lando had been dragged to the club by Daniel, who, as usual, was in the mood to go out. He had tried to say no, but when the Australian made up his mind, it was almost impossible to stop him.
Lando was nodding his head to the beat of a pop song, sipping his non-alcoholic soda, when he noticed her talking to a guy in the middle of the dance floor. She was gesturing and smiling as she spoke.
She had long blonde hair tied up in a high ponytail, bright blue eyes, and an incredible smile.
She was radiant.
Lando watched her for a while. The guy she was with leaned in to whisper something in her ear, and her eyes moved around the room until they briefly met Lando’s. It was a short, almost absent-minded glance.
Daniel, who had been standing next to him, followed his gaze to see what had caught his attention.
“Uh, Magui Corceiro. She’s trouble,” he said with confidence.
Lando turned his eyes to Daniel, taking in the name, then allowed himself to be distracted for the rest of the evening.
*
The second time he saw her was also the time they finally met.
Lando had gone to the mall in Monaco, and on his way back, he ran into some of his friends at a bar and stopped to chat with them.
She was sitting with her back to him, her hair down, falling in soft waves down her back. She was staring at her phone, not paying much attention to anyone around her.
Lando recognized her immediately — it was impossible not to.
At some point, one of their friends invited him to join them and only then she raised her eyes from the phone and look at him.
Lando smiled and held out his hand. “I’m Lando,” he said.
“Margarida,” she replied, shaking his hand and looking at him with the most unreadable expression he had ever encountered.
They hadn’t said much that day. Their conversation was casual, distracted — she was too busy typing something on her phone.
At one point, Lando leaned slightly in her direction.
“Who is the boy that keeps you on the phone?” he asked, intrusive — a kind of intrusion she would eventually get used to, because Lando had a way of taking whatever he wanted from anyone, without asking permission. And Magui would learn that at her own expense.
She narrowed her eyes.
“The guy I’m seeing,” she replied bluntly.
Lando listened, keeping his gaze fixed straight ahead as if he were interested in the conversation of their friends.
“Too bad. I wanted to invite you to my place,” he whispered. Before she could respond, he added, “I’ve invited some people over for dinner.”
Magui knew exactly what game Lando was playing, but in this, she was better than him.
“And what does the fact that I’m seeing someone have to do with that?”
Lando took the last sip of his Coke Zero, then set the glass down on the bar table. He stood up, adjusting his pants, which had ridden up to his ankles, and said, “Guys, I’ve got to run.”
He greeted everyone with a few fist bumps and handshakes. When it’s her turn he leaned in as and whispered in her ear, “I don’t think I could have you at my place and behave myself.”
Then he turned on his heel and walked away.
That same evening, Magui had been dragged by her friends to Lando’s place. There were a few people scattered around the living room—some sipping beer, others chatting while sitting on the couch—and the host was busy cooking something with a few people she didn’t know.
It was Matt who backed her up, as always, introducing her to the two guys cooking with Lando and the girl mixing some drinks.
Lando looked up from the burgers just to say a simple, “Hi,” which the blonde returned without much enthusiasm.
He ignored her for the rest of the time, and Magui kept herself busy moving between one conversation and another.
Lando circled around, talking to everyone, but never came close.
She was used to feeling everyone’s eyes on her all the time—she never expected to feel cornered.
Later, when the house started to empty and she grabbed her coat to leave, she heard someone call her from behind.
“Margarida,” he said, using her full name.
Those green eyes were fixed on her and met her questioning look.
“Do you want to have a glass of wine?” he asked, too late.
“I’m about to leave,” she replied simply, a clear refusal.
“I know.”
“I’ve been here all evening,” she pointed out before turning her back on him.
“Just one glass, on the terrace,” he insisted.
Magui sat on the terrace table, wrapped in her leather jacket, and accepted the glass he offered her.
“You don’t drink?” she asked, taking a sip.
Lando leaned back against the railing behind her to face her and gave a slight smile.
“I have to behave during the season.”
“Did you ignore me on purpose? Were you trying to get my attention?”
He tilted his head, watching her with curiosity.
“There were too many people around the house,” he explained calmly. He no longer had the attitude he’d shown in front of others.
“How’s it going with your boyfriend?”
Magui rolled her eyes and smiled.
“He’s not my boyfriend, but we see each other often,” she replied, amused by the provocation.
Lando smiled.
“So, you’re not exclusive?” he asked, focused on the subject.
The blonde took a sip of wine, looking at him.
“So many questions, Mr. Norris. Someone might think you’re interested,” she teased.
“Unfortunately, I’m not good at committing.”
“Neither am I,” she replied, taking another sip of wine without breaking eye contact.
Before Lando could say anything, they were interrupted by Matt, who appeared at the window.
“Magui, we have to go,” he said, breaking their conversation.
The blonde nodded at her friend, then climbed down from the table, leaving her glass on the ledge.
She turned to him, holding out her hand.
“It was a pleasure, Mr. Norris. Maybe we’ll see each other somewhere.”
Lando looked at her hand with amusement, then stepped forward, gently stroked her fingers instead of shaking her hand, and whispered, “Goodnight.”
That night, Magui would lie awake, staring at the ceiling of her room, thinking about those green eyes.
*
Had they become friends after that time?
Magui didn’t really know what it was that they had going on. They exchanged messages from time to time. Lando would occasionally send her something funny or ask what she was doing. But there were no jokes or hints of any kind.
He had called her a few times, out of the blue. Once, while she was at a work event. She hadn’t hesitated to answer and ended up spending the evening on the terrace talking to him.
Another time, during dinner with a guy, Magui had slipped into the bathroom and stayed there for at least twenty minutes while Lando told her about the race. She still hadn’t managed to see him on the track — just the thought of it made her nervous.
Still, she loved hearing him talk about his work, so she often asked questions, trying to understand that completely unfamiliar world.
She had only ever called him without warning once. It had been a tough day, and nothing seemed to distract her from the heavy thoughts weighing on her mind. So she tapped his name on the screen and waited.
“Magui?” — his voice had sounded concerned, and that alone had made her feel a little better.
“Where are you?” she had asked, lying on her bed.
“At work,” he had replied. “Which part of the world are you in? We could be in completely different time zones.”
“I’m home. Sorry, I forgot you were on the other side of the world — go ahead.”
“Did something happen?”
“Mmh,” she had murmured, “just a bad day, but I don’t want to bother you.”
“I’ve got five minutes before I have to get ready to go down to the track.”
The blonde had sighed, a little nervously.
"I had a project, and it got rejected for the second time. Nothing terrible, but someone did better than me."
A voice on the other end called out Lando’s name, and he whispered something away from the microphone so she wouldn’t hear.
"I have to go, I’m sorry."
"Yeah, sorry, go," she whispered, regretful for having called at such an inconvenient moment.
"Margarida?" he called her back, catching her by surprise. He often used her full name — no one else did, not even her parents.
"You told me you never give up, so don’t start now," he said — the kind of encouragement she didn’t know she needed.
That evening, for the first time, Magui turned on the TV and watched him take to the track for free practice.
*
She had gone out to dinner with two different guys that week—one of whom she had met at an event. They had slipped away and kissed in the garden, hidden from the other guests. But then, at the restaurant, all she could think was how boring he was.
The other guy hadn’t done anything wrong; he was kind, funny, and clearly interested in her. Then he mentioned a name—hers—saying he was a Formula One fan.
So that evening, she went home alone. Still standing at the door, she took out her phone and texted him.
Margarida: I went out with one of your fans tonight.
She slipped off her shoes, which had been hurting her, and walked barefoot to the kitchen to get a glass of water straight from the tap. Lando’s reply didn’t take long to arrive.
Lando Norris: Was it worth it?
Margarida: Very polite.
Lando Norris: Are you texting me while you’re with him? That’s not nice.
Margarida: I’m home alone.
Her phone started ringing, and Lando’s name flashed on the screen just a few minutes later. Magui stared at it, surprised, and answered with a hesitant voice. That evening, he asked her about her date—and what had made her decide not to give the guy a chance.
She listed a few reasons, then gently steered the conversation toward another topic.
She didn’t tell him that, from the moment the guy had mentioned his name, she hadn’t been able to focus on anything else.
*
Lando had asked her if she wanted to spend the day on a boat with some of his friends, and she had only said yes after making sure she didn’t have any work commitments. It would be the first time she saw him again since that evening at his place, when they had spoken for no more than twenty minutes.
They spent the morning on the boat—Lando introduced her to all his friends and to Kelly, Max’s girlfriend. She ended up chatting with Kelly for quite a while. They swam, diving in several times, and had baked fish for lunch in the small lounge at the bow.
As sunset approached, Kelly suggested she stay for dinner and offered her cabin to freshen up and change.
Magui hadn’t brought any spare clothes and tried to politely decline at least a couple of times, but eventually gave in—she didn’t want to seem rude. She agreed to wear one of the dresses Kelly had left for her in the room.
It was a soft wool dress that hugged her figure perfectly—slightly sheer, just right for an evening on a boat.
She had tied her hair into a messy ponytail, and when she emerged from the cabin, Lando was the first to see her.
He was talking to Max, holding what was clearly a non-alcoholic drink between his fingers, and paused mid-sentence when he noticed her. She gave him a smile and walked over.
Leaning in, she took a sip from his straw—a completely familiar gesture, the kind of boundary-crossing he often did himself.
The brunette let her do it, while Max greeted her with an amused smile.
It was Kelly who eventually called her over, gently breaking the moment.
During most of dinner, they chatted as a group. Lando only spoke to her as part of broader conversations. He made sure she had everything she needed, passed her the side dishes, and refilled her glass whenever it was empty—but never addressed her directly.
Only once, halfway through the meal, he leaned closer to her ear and whisper, "Margarida, could you pass the champagne?"
But she didn’t pass it to him.
When dinner ended, they scattered a bit; she and Kelly stayed behind to talk about work and the upcoming projects they had planned, while Lando was lounging somewhere nearby.
Magui had relaxed and done what she did best: socializing.
At one point in the evening, she and Jake ended up alone. He was telling her about the time he got lost in the middle of the desert. Magui had probably laughed a bit too loudly at one of his jokes, because she felt Lando’s gaze shift in their direction.
It didn’t take long for the brown-haired man to come over, perhaps waiting just long enough not to draw attention.
He sat down silently beside her, holding a glass of sparkling wine between his fingers.
Jake raised his glass in his direction. “Boss,” he murmured, standing up. “I’m heading to the bathroom,” he added, leaving them alone.
Magui turned to him with an amused look. “Did you order your friends to leave us alone?”
Lando stared at her for a few seconds with an unreadable expression and didn’t answer her question.
“So, how’s the dating going? It’s been a while since your last update,” he said, avoiding her gaze as he set his empty glass behind him and shifted a little closer.
In that moment, Magui realized that Lando had never touched her—not even accidentally. As if he was doing it on purpose.
Still, she played along. “I think Jake might’ve been trying to hit on me,” she said, watching him closely.
Lando nodded. “I know. I came over to save you from the awkwardness, in case you wanted out.”
“But I didn’t say anything,” she replied, curious.
The brown-haired man smiled without looking her in the eyes. “As soon as I sat down, you turned toward me and didn’t even hear what Jake was asking you.”
Magui’s mouth opened slightly as she tried to remember what Jake’s last words had been, but realized she had no idea.
It annoyed her how he always seemed one step ahead.
“And how’s your dating life going?” she asked in return—a subject they had never really touched on before.
“I’m hung up on a girl, but I can’t,” he murmured honestly, catching her off guard.
“Why not?”
Lando shook his head. “Because I think it’s the same for her,” he said, as if that explained everything.
Magui wasn’t sure if they were speaking in code; all she knew was that the idea sparked something inside her.
“And that’s supposed to be a problem?” she replied, her tone questioning, highlighting the contradiction in his logic.
Lando stayed quiet for a moment, then finally turned to look her in the eyes—for the first time since he sat down.
“I’ve wanted to kiss you all day. During dinner, I had to hold myself back with everything I had,” he admitted, like it cost him to say it.
“But I have no intention of dating anyone, going out, or getting involved in a relationship,” he added, giving her the full picture.
Magui stared at him in silence for a few moments. “Then don’t,” she said. “I’m not a toy,” she finished, resenting the arrogant way he thought he could lay down the terms.
Lando gave a half-smile—the kind she wished she could wipe off his face—and said, “We can still be friends.”
“Sure,” Magui replied, before slipping away.
That night, she didn’t go home. She slept in Jake’s cabin instead, to prove to Lando Norris that not everything played out by his rules.
*
They stopped talking for weeks.
Lando called her once—she was in the middle of a photoshoot and only noticed the missed call later. She didn’t text him back.
It was Lando who reached out a week after that missed call.
Lando Norris: So you didn’t really want to be my friend.
Margarida: Friends don’t sleep together.
Lando Norris: We didn’t sleep together, though.
Margarida: But you wanted to. You tried—to your own terms.
Lando Norris: And what would your terms have been?
Margarida: No dates. No jealousy.
Lando Norris: Are those the rules you give to all the guys?
Margarida: You’re already getting jealous.
Lando Norris: You’re good at this game.
Lando Norris: I’m staying in Monaco for two more days. If the score’s even, I’ll be waiting xx
Magui didn’t reply to that message.
But she went to him.
*
He welcomed her wearing a tracksuit. He smelled fresh—probably just out of the shower. The dampness of his hair would confirm it later, when she slipped her fingers through it.
He offered her a drink, they chatted while sitting in the kitchen, and then he made her something to eat.
His eyes were a bright shade of green. The only thing he really knew how to cook was ham toast, and yet he was always incredibly attentive.
He kissed her halfway through dinner. He moved between her legs, his fingers gently pressing against the back of her neck.
“I’m not hungry anymore,” he whispered before pressing his lips to hers.
He was kind—extremely kind. That was the first thing Magui would always say about him to anyone who asked.
He hadn’t rushed anything and had focused on her, on her pleasure first. He could be gentle, but also firm.
They had had sex on the living room couch.
Magui would never forget the faint smell of burnt toast lingering in the room, or the way his fingers had traced her shoulder blades when it was all over.
*
He had written something funny, and she had burst out laughing in the middle of the restaurant, drawing the attention of some of the people at that business dinner. She had apologized with a glance, and her friend had rolled her eyes, knowing exactly who had made her laugh.
Magui had replied, tuning out the conversations around her, as always happened when they were in touch. The handsome guy who had been flirting with her all evening had gotten annoyed, but she hadn’t even noticed.
*
They had seen each other again one fleeting evening, once more at his place. Magui had left her vacation with her friends to see him.
They had sex as soon as they walked through the door, and then, sitting on the living room rug, they watched a TV series they had started together. Waiting to finish it had been difficult for her.
There had been no cuddling, nothing romantic. She had worn the glasses she never used around anyone else, because they made her feel insecure, and he had sat in a careless position, his back resting against the couch.
They exchanged comments during the episodes and bickered playfully.
Magui had stayed the night, but not in his bed. The next morning, she had left, and he had set breakfast out for her on the counter. Because Lando was like that—attentive.
*
Magui knew she wasn’t supposed to fall in love with him. They had set rules that suited them both. And yet, one evening, she realized she loved him. Just like that.
They were at a dinner with mutual friends, both knowing they would see each other again that night. They were sitting next to each other.
The conversation flowed easily among everyone. But at one point, one of their friends made a remark about her job, just as she was explaining how exhausting it could sometimes be.
Jack cut in with a chuckle—“It’s not like your half-naked photos are going to save the world,” he mocked, in a tone that was both rude and laced with misogyny.
Magui didn’t have time to respond, because Lando stepped into the conversation. “I don’t save the world either, Jack. I literally get paid to almost kill myself every weekend, and yet I’m still your hero,” he snapped, angrier than she had ever seen him with anyone.
Jack stammered some awkward reply, but Magui wasn’t listening to anyone else. She just turned to look at him—to take in the way he cared about her enough to get that angry.
He didn’t return her gaze. Instead, he kept talking to someone next to him.
But his fingers tightened against her knee, as if to reassure her—and that’s when Magui knew she was screwed.
That night, they had sex in his bed, and the blonde told herself she needed to pull back.
*
She disappeared—for a while. She didn’t answer his messages or calls.
But eventually, she couldn’t help herself.
When she started replying again, Lando sent her a message that hit her hard.
Lando Norris: You’re seeing someone else, right?
He had figured it out—and he was also handing her a way out.
*
She kept thinking about how the other boy’s laugh didn’t sound like his. His jokes weren’t funny enough, and his hair was too dark.
She downed three glasses of champagne and decided to go along with it. She ended up in bed with that boy, but he wasn’t good enough, wasn’t gentle enough. He just wasn’t him.
*
When they saw each other again one evening at his place, after he came back from a race, he opened the door and she thought he looked beautiful. A knot formed in her stomach. She had never felt vulnerable before—never in front of a men.
"I'm exhausted," he said, walking around the apartment picking up clothes scattered here and there.
Her eyes immediately landed on a glittery top draped over the armchair. The thought that someone else had been there hit her like a rock in her throat.
Lando noticed her silence and followed her gaze. “My brother and his girlfriend were here while I was away,” he explained in a paternal tone, as if to say she didn’t need that explanation from him.
Magui lowered her eyes, caught in the act—she knew she was in the wrong. She fidgeted with the drawstring of her hoodie. “We should stop,” she whispered, trying to protect herself and her feelings.
Lando looked at her for a few seconds, then said, “Okay. Alright,” his tone calm, understanding. She looked up at him, eyes stinging, tears threatening to fall. She felt foolish and wished he couldn’t see her like that.
But he stepped toward her and wrapped his arms around her. “Come here,” he whispered, letting her bury her face in his soft hoodie.
She didn’t stay long that evening. Lando watched her leave and felt like a monster, even though he hadn’t done anything wrong.
*
They stopped. Then they started talking again—as friends. Lando would call her at random, just like he used to. And sometimes she texted him.
She had gone out with just one guy after that, and for a while, she was convinced she had overestimated her feelings. But then he would appear on the TV screen, and she knew she hadn’t been wrong.
She focused on work, on her friends, and on herself.
She read four romance novels. Drank a lot of wine and ate very little to balance out the calories.
*
She saw him again. At a race. After months.
She hadn’t wanted to go, but she was there for work and couldn’t say no.
When they crossed paths, she gave him a bright smile, and he smiled back, genuinely happy to see her.
She didn’t feel that familiar knot in her stomach—she felt okay, and that gave her a sense of peace.
So when he invited her to the after party, she didn’t turn him down. Not even when they slipped away into a dark hallway and started kissing—drawn to each other, fully aware, wanting to touch.
Lando asked her if she felt like continuing in his room, and she simply nodded—because she truly wanted to.
He held her hand in the hotel lobby and in the elevator that took them to the right floor.
When the door closed behind them, they undressed quickly, as if afraid to stop and realize what they were really doing.
Lando put on protection, then slowly entered in her, brushing her hair away from her face with his fingers.
Later, lying side by side on the bed, Magui couldn’t stop thinking about how foolish she had been. She turned toward the brown-haired man, watching his profile for a while.
“Why do you shut relationships out of your life?” she asked, unable to hold it back—even though she feared the answer, even though it exposed her feelings, and even though she hated him for it with everything she had.
“I’m not good at sharing my time, and when I feel like it, I shut everyone out,” he explained, still staring at the ceiling above them.
“It wouldn’t be any different from what we’ve already done, you know?” she said, only to instantly wish she could take the words back.
Lando turned to look at her. “No, Magui, that was just crumbs. Do you really think you deserve so little?”
She wanted to tell him she didn’t want crumbs, that she had never met anyone like him, that she had never felt so addicted to someone, and that she didn’t want to let him go. But all she managed to say was a soft, uncertain, “No.”
Lando looked her straight in the eyes. “You should expect more,” he whispered, as gently as always.
Her eyes filled with tears, inevitably. “And is it that you can’t give more, or that you won’t?”
He looked away, his gaze drifting to some vague point behind her. “I’m just not the right person.”
Magui swallowed her tears along with all the disappointment and silently promised herself it had to end—once and for all.
*
They stopped seeing each other—again. And stopped talking.
Magui went on with her life. Lando would check in on her through social media from time to time, then leave her alone.
He missed knowing what she was up to, but he didn’t want to keep her close without giving her what she was looking for.
*
They saw each other again in Monaco, at a birthday dinner for a mutual friend.
Lando waved at her from across the room, and she walked over with a fixed smile on her face.
She was tipsy—he could tell from the way she moved, nervously circling around him.
They didn’t talk much. Then a tall guy with dark hair approached and wrapped an arm around her waist.
“The famous Lando Norris,” he said with a grin. “Nice to meet you, I’m James,” he introduced himself.
Lando shook his hand, throwing in a joke.
“We’re together,” Magui announced, like she didn’t know how else to deliver the information.
The brown-haired man smiled politely, saying nothing. Not seeing any reaction in his eyes made her feel awful.
She excused herself with the classic bathroom excuse and slipped away.
Later, as she sat alone staring at her phone, Lando came to sit beside her.
“Does he treat you well?” he asked, whispering so no one around would hear.
“I can take care of myself, Lando,” she snapped back, hating the way he always seemed to want to take care of her.
“I miss calling you,” he confessed suddenly, saying something out loud for the first time.
She turned to look at him, surprised. “You’re the one who stopped.”
“It was the right thing to do,” he said firmly.
“No, the right thing is doing what you feel,” she replied, holding up a mirror to the truth.
Right and wrong had such a thin, fragile line.
*
They started talking again.
He mostly called her in the evenings.
James had disappeared within a week—Lando never asked about him, and Magui never brought it up.
*
Magui kept looking at the photos going around online, the ones where Lando had been tagged with a girl.
She had long, straight, dark brown hair. They were sitting at a restaurant, his hand resting on her leg.
It made her feel sick—but she also knew that was a stupid reaction. He wasn’t hers.
So when he called that evening, she didn’t answer. She didn’t want to end up saying something she’d regret.
Lando: I know you’re not answering on purpose.
So she was forced to pick up.
“I wanted to tell you before the photos came out, but they beat me to it,” he said right away, skipping the small talk.
“And why?” she asked, genuinely curious about his attention.
“I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“We’re not together,” she replied sharply, unsure how to handle the conversation—especially with jealousy eating her alive.
“I know. But I also know it’s not easy,” he said back.
“She’s very pretty.”
Lando ignored the jab. “Are you home? Can we watch the next episode? I’m dying to see what happens.”
Magui wanted to ask him why, after a date with another girl, he was on the phone with her—but she knew she wouldn’t get an answer.
Sometimes it felt like even Lando couldn’t control himself when it came to them.
So everything stayed up in the air, suspended in a space between one thing and the other.
They watched an episode of The Office lying in two different beds—him in Monaco, her in Portugal.
They commented on every absurd choice the characters made and laughed together at every silly joke.
Lando had thought a lot about that laughter.
*
She had gone to see him in Monaco twice. They had ended up in bed three times, each time promising not to let it happen again—at least until the next time.
Then they started meeting again in hotels around the world in the days before the races. They ate french fries sitting on the floor, binge-watched episodes, slept in the same bed, and learned new things about each other.
Magui would leave on Fridays, just as race weekends kicked into gear and Lando didn’t want any distractions.
They had never argued—at least not until that night.
They were at his place. Lando had invited a couple of friends over, but more people had shown up than he expected.
There was a girl who kept hovering around him. Magui had stayed chatting with Kelly somewhere in the living room, but she’d kept an eye on him the whole time.
She didn’t know who the girl was—she had come with one of Lando’s friends and everyone seemed to think she was his girlfriend, but the way she moved around him made it clear she wasn’t.
He had poured her wine more than once, chatted with her, and Magui had caught them laughing together over something only they seemed to understand.
Jealousy was eating her alive. She tried to distract herself with anything she could. But when she saw them off to the side, she lost it. Lando’s hand was resting absentmindedly on the girl’s leg, and she was telling him something, just inches from his face.
Magui stood up abruptly, startling Kelly, who looked at her with concern as she searched for the purse she had left somewhere.
What hurt the most was the thought that she could be in the same room and he could just forget about her. He always made her feel invisible, and she hated him for that.
She found what she was looking for and slipped out the door without saying goodbye to anyone.
Lando noticed right away. It didn’t take him long to follow her down the stairs.
Magui was sitting on the steps of the building, typing something on her phone.
“Why are you leaving? Are you going to meet someone?”
“Oh, so you did notice I exist,” she murmured, sharply, without turning to look at him.
Lando let out a long sigh and walked down a few steps so he could see her better.
“What’s wrong?”
Magui finally looked up at him, her eyes blazing with the anger he had expected.
“Are you kidding me?”
“So now I’m not allowed to talk to another woman?” Lando said, annoyed. He hated scenes like this and hated having to justify himself.
“You two were clearly flirting all evening. Lando, I’m not naïve.”
“Well, you’re not my girlfriend either,” he replied without thinking.
That one sentence was enough to undo everything they had built so far.
“Fuck you. Really. Fuck you, for all the times you call me saying you miss me. For every time you invite me over and end up in bed with me.”
Lando couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Did I ever make you any promises?”
“These stupid games of yours. You enjoy being with me, but the moment you’re expected to act like it matters, suddenly you don’t owe me anything. Hypocrite,” she snapped, fed up with men who couldn’t take responsibility.
“Alright, Magui. Fine. Then stop seeing me. Stop picking up the phone when I call. You know what? Block me. Let’s just end this.”
“Great. Now go back to flirting with that girl. I wouldn’t want to get in the way of your fun,” she said, her eyes dropping back to her phone.
“I wasn’t flirting with her,” Lando replied instinctively, his tone resigned.
Magui shot him a sharp look with those blue eyes he knew all too well by now.
He couldn’t help himself—his lips curled into a faint, amused smile. “Really, I know you don’t believe me, but I wasn’t the least bit interested.”
“I like blondes, you know that.”
Magui narrowed her eyes. “I can promise you, if I throw this purse at you, it will hurt,” she said, unimpressed by the provocation.
This time, Lando looked at her seriously. “You spent the whole time talking to Kelly, then went to get a drink and chatted with Pietra. Max asked you for something, and you went to grab it from the top shelf above the fridge,” he listed, before adding, “I watched you the entire time—you were the one who chose what to see.”
Magui felt foolish, realizing how much her jealousy had clouded her judgment. Lando rolled his eyes and shook his head slightly, then extended a hand toward her.
“You’re an insecure fool.”
“I’ve never been,” she admitted, disappointed in her own behavior—and in the power he had to make her feel like she didn’t matter.
She took his hand and pulled herself to her feet. Then they both let go.
Later that night, after everyone had left, they cleaned up the apartment in near silence.
Out of nowhere, Lando walked over to her, wrapped his fingers gently around her wrist, and pulled her close.
He held her tightly in his arms and whispered, “Hurting you is the last thing I’d ever want to do.”
*
And yet, it happened again. In Brazil.
Lando hadn’t asked her to come—not this time—but they hadn’t seen each other in three weeks, and she thought she’d surprise him. She planned to stay just one day.
But when she called him from the airport to say she was in Brazil, his reaction wasn’t what she had expected.
He sent her the address of the house where he was staying and told her he’d be back later.
Some friends of Lando’s welcomed her, and she stayed there, waiting for him to return.
When he finally came back, he found her in the kitchen, chatting with Caco.
“Hi,” he murmured as he walked in.
Carlos Sainz appeared behind him—his former teammate. Magui knew they were close friends, even if Lando hadn’t spoken much about him. She reached out to introduce herself, and the dark-haired man shook her hand with a polite smile. They exchanged a few pleasantries while Lando watched them.
*
Later that night, in his room, Lando told her it was a special weekend and that he was feeling a bit nervous about it.
He didn’t seem like the Lando she was used to, and Magui tried to shake off the uneasy feeling, telling herself she was just being paranoid.
They had dinner together on the terrace. She followed the conversations without saying much. That evening, for the first time since she had met him, Lando didn’t bother to pour her a drink or make sure she felt comfortable.
Magui felt she had made a mistake by showing up and was relieved at the thought of her flight the next morning.
It was the first time she had seen Lando seem almost bothered by her presence.
*
After dinner, they watched a movie projected in the garden. Magui sat on some cushions scattered on the grass, at the foot of the couch where Lando and Carlos were sitting.
She didn’t really follow the movie, but from time to time she glanced at Lando out of the corner of her eye. He hadn’t looked her way even once. He and Carlos kept whispering comments to each other throughout the film.
They were seated in the middle of the couch, leaving plenty of space on either side.
Magui watched them, noticed how Lando acted around him, and felt like she was seeing a side of him she didn’t know at all.
Later, back in the room, when Lando kept avoiding her gaze and answering only in monosyllables, Magui stood frozen in the middle of the room, feeling like she couldn’t take another minute.
Her eyes filled with tears—those clear eyes he knew so well. She pressed her lips into a tight line, the way she always did when she was at her limit.
Then she whispered, “Fuck you,” before walking out the door of that house in Brazil and leaving.
Lando stared at that door for minutes, wondering where—once again—he had gone wrong.
*
They saw each other again three weeks later. They had only exchanged a few messages. Magui had stopped pushing, and Lando had been surprised by that. They hadn’t spoken about that night in Brazil since.
When they met for dinner, they caught up, chatting as they usually did.
It was Magui who brought it up.
“Is he the reason you push relationships out of your life?” she asked bluntly.
Lando frowned, confused. “Carlos?”
When Magui had seen them together, she realized she only knew one part of Lando—that she didn’t truly know who he was, because she had never seen the rest.
Something about the way he acted around Carlos, the way he seemed completely himself, had made her feel like she had missed something important—something he had deliberately kept from her.
The world where Lando spent most of his life—the world of Formula 1—was a place she didn’t belong to.
For a moment that night in Brazil, before walking away, she had wondered if the speech he always gave her—the one about needing to cut everyone off sometimes—applied to Carlos too.
Magui doubted it did. She would bet that the Spanish driver wasn’t included in that “everyone.”
That night, she had gone home and cried all her tears because she realized that Lando knew everything about her, every nuance—but the same wasn’t true the other way around.
Lando stared at her in silence, without answering the question.
Then he said, “We shouldn’t start over. But maybe we could try being friends again,” carefully avoiding the subject.
Magui knew he would never talk about it.
So she nodded, saying nothing more—while her heart quietly broke at the thought of still being stuck there, accepting crumbs.