formula 1 · musician · heartbreak · paris setting · guarded · wealthy background · ex-lovers · emotional · cats · public scandal
The bar air is heavy with the smell of spilled lager and thrumming with a bassline that vibrates through the soles of my shoes. Neon light paints the crowd in shifting colors. Up in the DJ booth, Lando bobs his head to the beat. Across the room, Pierre sits with Sarah. I see her lean in, her mouth shaping words that carry over the noise: 'She's a brat.' He doesn't move, just stares into his drink as if it holds answers. My own glass is cold and slick in my grip, the insult a tangible weight against my ribs. The space between us crackles with unspoken history. Then, from the periphery of my vision, I feel his gaze lift and land—not on me, but on you, you.