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kathlare · 2 days ago

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you're losing me

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Lando and Amelie confront the growing distance between them, forced to face the painful reality that love alone may not be enough without presence, effort, and honesty.

Wordcount: 5.5 k

Warnings: angst

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July 23th, 2025 - London, United Kingdom

The kitchen was quiet—too quiet for a summer night in London.

The sky outside was still painted in soft blues and purples, the last light of the day fading behind the hills, casting warm shadows across the marble floor. The apartment smelled of cilantro and lime, the remnants of the dinner Amelie had made nearly an hour ago.

Two plates had been set on the table. One remained untouched.

Amelie stood at the sink, her back to the empty chair across from hers, slowly scrubbing at a dish that didn��t need more scrubbing. She blinked hard, jaw tight, her breath hitching every now and then as she fought back the sting behind her eyes. She wasn’t going to cry. Not again. Not over this.

But fuck, it hurt.

She’d lit the candles. Put on the playlist he liked. Even garnished the tacos with the crema he loved, the one she always made from scratch just because he said it reminded him of their trip to Mérida. And for the third time this week, she’d eaten alone.

Well, half-eaten. Her appetite had vanished halfway through the first bite.

Lando was supposed to be home at eight.

It was ten-thirty.

She glanced at her phone on the counter again, screen blank. No message. No missed call. Just nothing. The same kind of silence she’d grown used to lately. The kind that made her feel like an afterthought.

With a shaky exhale, she reached for the second plate and scraped the untouched food into a Tupperware container. Her hands were trembling. She hated how familiar the motion felt—preserving something she made for someone who didn’t show up.

—Fucking hell,— she whispered to herself, slamming the lid shut.

Björn jumped up onto the kitchen counter, knocking over a spoon, as if in protest to her sudden burst of frustration. She didn’t even flinch. Benny, curled up in his usual spot by the door, looked up at her with big, round eyes, like he knew something wasn’t right.

—I’m fine,— she murmured, brushing a hand through her curls as she turned away from the mess. —I’m fine, Benny.—

But her voice cracked.

She didn’t know what hurt more—the fact that Lando kept missing these moments, or the fact that she was starting to expect him to. That the disappointment didn’t surprise her anymore.

They were supposed to be happy. They were happy. Weren’t they?

She padded across the apartment barefoot, wiping her hands on the dish towel, walking into the dimly lit living room. Her phone buzzed just as she sat on the couch.

Lan🧡: So sorry baby. Got caught up with media stuff. I’m on my way now.

Too little, too late.

She stared at the message for a second. Typed a response. Deleted it. Typed another. Deleted that too.

Instead, she just dropped the phone face-down on the coffee table and leaned back, covering her eyes with the heel of her palm. It wasn’t like she didn’t understand. She knew what she signed up for. They both lived lives that weren’t always their own. Racing. Press. Travel. Cameras. Crowds.

But still.

She’d waited years for this. For them. And now, even after going public, even after surviving the hardest part, she was starting to feel like a background character in his story again. Like the secret girlfriend in a different chapter.

Benny jumped onto the couch beside her, curling into her lap. She hugged him instinctively, holding him close, burying her face into his soft fur.

That’s when the front door clicked.

She didn’t move.

Keys jingled, followed by the sound of shoes being kicked off and a bag hitting the floor. Then the faint sound of his voice, soft and uncertain.

—Ames?—

She still didn’t move.

Lando appeared in the doorway a moment later, slightly flushed from the night air, curls messy and expression sheepish. He looked down at her—eyes trailing over her oversized t-shirt, bare legs curled beneath her, and the look on her face that stopped him cold.

She wasn’t angry.

She was tired.

—Shit,— Lando muttered under his breath as he stepped further into the room, rubbing the back of his neck. —I’m so sorry, baby. Everything ran way longer than I thought. The interviews, then the debrief dragged and... I should’ve texted. I know.—

Amelie didn’t answer at first. She just gently stroked Benny’s fur, eyes trained on a spot on the coffee table like if she blinked, it would disappear. Her voice was quiet when it came.

—Dinner’s in the fridge.—

Lando froze. He wasn’t sure what he expected—tears, anger, maybe a snarky comment—but the flatness in her voice cut deeper than any fight could have.

He swallowed hard. —Ames, come on, don’t do that.—

She finally looked up at him. Her eyes weren’t puffy. No mascara smudges. Just... dull. Like all the sparkle had been wiped out of her.

—You’re tired,— she said gently, like she was the one comforting him. —You should eat something before it gets too late.—

Lando stepped closer, the floorboards creaking softly beneath his feet. He crouched in front of her, resting his hands lightly on her knees.

—Ames, please just talk to me. Don’t shut down like this.—

She managed a faint smile. The kind you gave to strangers in the elevator or to waiters who brought you the wrong order.

—I’m not shutting down. I’m just… tired too.—

He flinched. Not visibly. But enough that she felt it.

There was silence again. One of those heavy, loaded ones where everything hangs between two people like a wire pulled too tight. He reached up, brushing his fingers lightly along her shin.

—I’ve been shit lately, haven’t I?— he said quietly.

She shrugged, slow and noncommittal. —You’ve been busy. I get it.—

—But that’s not an excuse,— Lando said. His voice cracked slightly. —You made dinner. Again. And I just... fuck, I hate that I keep doing this. I don’t want you to feel like you’re some… afterthought, Ames.—

She looked at him for a long beat. Then leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. Quick. Mechanical. Not angry. But not there, either.

—Your plate’s in the middle shelf. I made the green sauce you like. The spicy one.—

She moved to stand, cradling Benny against her chest like a shield. Lando stood too, watching her as she padded toward the hallway, her steps slow, deliberate.

Just before disappearing down the corridor, she turned slightly over her shoulder.

—Goodnight, Lan.—

That pet name—usually said with warmth, with a smirk or a kiss behind it—felt like it had splintered inside her mouth.

Lando stood in the living room for a long time after she was gone. The hum of the fridge. The faint clink of Björn knocking something off a shelf in the distance. His own heartbeat, loud in his ears.

He walked to the kitchen, pulled open the fridge, and found the Tupperware neatly stacked. Labelled. Dated. The kind of thing you did when you were tired of asking.

He didn’t heat it up.

He just stood there, staring at it, the weight of her silence finally settling in.

From the hallway, behind the closed bedroom door, Amelie curled beneath the sheets, Benny nestled into her side. Her eyes were wide open in the dark, trained on the ceiling. She could hear the microwave beep. The dull thud of the utensil drawer.

Her heart throbbed in her chest, not with anger. Not even sadness.

Just fear.

Because if she said what she wanted to say—I miss you. I don’t feel seen. I’m scared this is turning into what it used to be.—what if it broke them again?

And she couldn’t lose him.

Not again.

So she stayed quiet. Held her cats a little closer. And let the tears fall soundlessly onto the pillow, praying that tomorrow would feel better. That he’d come home early. That he’d remember.

That it wouldn’t always feel like this.

-------------

liked by mcclarenmama, carlando2020, and others

norrislapsdaily: Lando spotted at the MTC today! Back in Woking and looking focused 👀🔧 Whether it's simulator work, team meetings, or just vibing with the McLaren crew — our man is locked in. Silverstone hangover? Never heard of her. 💻🧡

View all 32,900 comments

f1wifeposting: he probs drove there just to facetime her from the parking lot → lanlvr44: @f1wifeposting bro’s deep in his “i miss my gf even tho we live together” era 😭

mczoomies: lando at the mtc like “hi guys anyway did u see how hot my gf looked yesterday” → ameliedaymanfan13: @mczoomies she’s the background of every team monitor i fear

quadgirlies: he 1000% brought tupperware w leftovers she packed → yktvlanmelie: @quadgirlies imagine opening your lunch and it’s heart shaped pasta 😭

floralando: he looks tan AND in love like pls calm down sir

mclando44: we all clowning but he's probably watching her story on loop while waiting for sim time → lanmeliecore: @mclando44 "babe i liked it from the team iPad too" 💀

justvibingoscar: meanwhile oscar just tryna clock in and not third-wheel again

wagsynergy: he’s at mtc but mentally still in monaco cuddling benny → lanmelieupdates: @wagsynergy and stealing bites of amelie’s pasta while she yells at him 😭🍝

checoprincess: lando showing up to mtc just to brag about his gf let’s be so real → piastrilicious: @checoprincess he was like “guys she made pasta from scratch last night”

norrisnation: please he looks like he just kissed her on the forehead and said “i’ll be home by 7” → ameliearchives: @norrisnation this is why i cry.

lanmama: he better be working on a podium kiss strategy rn → amelieupdates: @lanmama manifesting him pointing at her in parc fermé again 🙏

trackbae: she said 🏠 and now he’s at work like a good husband 😌 → landoismylockscreen: @trackbae homegirl got him domesticated real fast 😭

pitwallwives: is this the first day they haven’t been glued to each other in 2 weeks → bennytok: @pitwallwives thoughts and prayers to both of them rn 🙏

lanmeliehater123: this relationship is so fake it hurts 😐 → f1slandmelie: @lanmeliehater123 babe they’re literally in love get help → paddockdiaries: @lanmeliehater123 just say you're lonely and go

sunnyforlan: he prob left her sleeping in his shirt and kissed her 3 times before leaving 😭 → ameliesbf: @sunnyforlan and whispered “don’t forget to eat something” i’m sobbing → gridgf: @ameliesbf and she replied half asleep “bring ice cream later”

landozon: y’all he’s glowing… that’s that i-live-with-my-gf-and-her-cat glow → catmomlan: @landozon benny’s emotional support bf now

f1slutclub: they argue over who gets to cook dinner and end up ordering ramen anyway → lanmeliehub: @f1slutclub and then post aesthetic pics of the ramen like it’s fine dining 😭

pitlaneprincess: imagine him watching the telemetry while texting her “miss u” every 5 mins → ameliearchives: @pitlaneprincess that’s exactly what’s happening don’t even lie

softlaunchlan: that 🏠 post was NOT subtle btw. we know she moved in → pasta4lando: @softlaunchlan like at least pretend we’re stupid??

lan4life: we’re 2 days away from an “amelie made this” cooking post on his story → tifosifairy: @lan4life and it'll be some pesto pasta with her standing blurry in the background 😭

notachef: y’all he’s in mtc today but emotionally still at brunch in monaco w her

-------------

The midday sun beat down hard on the backlot, all hazy shimmer and heatwaves rising off the pavement. Crew members scattered like ants under umbrellas and pop-up tents, wiping sweat from their brows as they prepped the next shot. Amelie sat in the shade of a canvas awning, a bottle of cold water pressed to her collarbone, her curls twisted up in a loose bun.

Lunch break.

Finally.

She exhaled, a little too sharp for comfort. The corset top of her outfit for the video—it was more lace than fabric—felt tighter now that her thoughts were starting to spiral again. Her makeup artist had already warned her not to cry because her eyeliner was “a bitch to redo in this weather.” So she blinked slowly, forcing the sting behind her eyes to behave.

She hadn’t heard from Lando all morning.

Again.

A plate clinked down in front of her.

—You look like you need something other than ice water,— Elysia said, sitting across from her and unwrapping a foil container of grilled veggies and rice. —Also, your brows are doing that thing. The worried one. The “I’m pretending I’m fine but I’m about to combust” one.—

Amelie gave a hollow laugh, poking at the salad on her plate. —I didn’t realize you were also psychic now.—

Elysia gave her a look. —You’ve had that same expression since call time. Spit it out, mi reina. What did Lando do now?—

Amelie didn’t answer at first. She just shrugged, tearing a piece of bread into small, uneven bits. Finally, she muttered, —He hasn’t done anything wrong. That’s the problem.—

Elysia raised a brow. —Explain that logic to me before my brain leaks out my ears from heatstroke.—

Amelie sighed, pushing her tray away. —He’s just… so busy. I get it, I really do... he’s fighting for the championship. This is the most important season of his career. I knew what I was signing up for. But… fuck, Ely. It’s hard not to feel like I’m just background noise now. A side plot.—

—You’re not a side plot,— Elysia said, instantly firm.

—Yeah, well... tell that to the last three dinners I ate alone, or the texts that go hours without replies. Or the fact that I can’t remember the last time he asked how my day was.—

Elysia’s expression softened. —Ames…—

—I’m not mad at him. I’m just… tired of feeling like the only one adjusting. The only one waiting. I want to be understanding, but there’s this tiny, ugly voice in my head that keeps whispering, “What if it’s happening again?” Like before. When he started talking to someone else because I was too busy.—

Elysia leaned forward. —Okay, first of all, you’re allowed to feel that. That doesn’t make you clingy or dramatic or unfair. It makes you human. Secondly… that voice in your head? She’s not telling the truth. Because this isn’t 2021. And you’re not a maybe anymore.—

Amelie looked up at her, eyes glassy. —Then why does it still feel like I’m slipping through the cracks?—

Elysia was quiet for a second, picking up a grape tomato and popping it into her mouth. Then she pointed at Amelie with her fork.

—Listen to me, woman. If that man says he’s coming home tonight, he will. So here’s what you’re gonna do: you’re gonna get off this dusty-ass set, go home, take a long bath, pick the hottest lingerie in that ridiculous drawer of yours, and stop thinking about everything for five fucking minutes.—

Amelie blinked, caught off guard. —What?—

—You heard me. Light a candle. Put on that Prince playlist you only play when you wanna feel like a goddess. And when Lando walks through that door, you two are gonna connect. Not talk about schedules or missed dinners. Just be together. Remind each other what all this bullshit is even for.—

Amelie laughed despite herself. —You sound like my therapist if she’d had three tequilas.—

Elysia grinned. —I am your therapist. Just hotter and with better taste in shoes.—

They both laughed then—genuine this time—and Amelie felt a little of the ache loosen in her chest. The kind of relief that comes not from solving a problem, but just from being seen in it.

She reached for her water again. —Thanks, Lys. I needed that.—

Elysia shrugged. —Anytime. And if he doesn’t show up tonight, I’m breaking into his sim room and deleting all his setups. Don’t test me.—

—You’re evil.—

—I’m efficient.—

They sat in silence for a beat, listening to the clatter of equipment being repositioned in the distance. A crew member called out for talent to start getting ready for the next scene.

Amelie stood, brushing crumbs from her thighs. She turned to Elysia, a bit more color in her cheeks now, her voice steadier. —Okay. Bath. Candle. Lingerie. Prince. I got this.—

Elysia smirked. —Atta girl. Show him who he’s coming home to.—

As Amelie walked back toward the makeup tent, there was still a heaviness in her chest. But now it came with purpose. With hope. With fire.

-------------

The scent of fresh takeout filled the air—spiced rice, garlicky lamb, warm pita bread wrapped in foil still steaming through the bag. Amelie juggled the handles in one arm as she unlocked the door, shoulder nudging it open with a soft creak. The apartment was dim, only the soft glow of the hallway lamp casting gentle light across the hardwood floors.

—Benny? Björn?— she called softly, toeing off her shoes. Björn appeared first, yawning dramatically as he stretched across the hallway like he’d been doing very important nap business all day. Benny peeked his head from behind the curtain, blinked once, then disappeared again.

Amelie smiled faintly, walking toward the kitchen with the bags.

She was humming to herself—something she’d half-sung on the ride home, still sticky from the heat of set and Elysia’s pep talk echoing in her head—as she reached for plates and glasses, already imagining how nice it’d be to just eat and be with him tonight. To share something easy.

But then her eyes landed on it.

A single note, folded once and tucked beneath a magnet on the kitchen island.

Her stomach dropped before she even touched it.

She pulled it loose with careful fingers. Recognized his handwriting immediately—messy, rushed, slanted like he’d been in a hurry.

Ames, I’m so sorry. I had to leave early—flight got moved up last minute. Belgium needed me sooner than we planned. Max is giving you a lift tomorrow morning, he’ll text. I love you. I miss you already. -Lan.

Amelie’s fingers trembled slightly as she unfolded the note, the familiar scrawl stabbing at her chest like a cold blade. She read it twice, then a third time, trying to convince herself this wasn’t some kind of cruel joke.

I’m so sorry. I had to leave early. Max is giving you a lift tomorrow morning. I love you. I miss you already.

But none of it stopped the hurt from sinking in deeper.

She set the note down gently on the kitchen island and looked around the dim apartment, the takeout bags suddenly feeling heavier in her arms. The plates, the silverware, the untouched food — all waiting for a dinner that wouldn’t happen.

Her heart twisted tighter with every breath.

The same silence that had haunted her for weeks was back, that gnawing ache of being left behind in the rush of his relentless schedule.

She started setting the table anyway, mechanical motions trying to distract her from the hollow ache growing in her chest. The clink of plates and cutlery sounded louder than usual, each noise echoing through the empty rooms.

Later, when the apartment was swallowed by night, sleep remained stubbornly out of reach.

She stared at the ceiling, the note still folded on the nightstand beside her like a cruel reminder of how small she felt.

The next morning was sharp and bright, the cool air brushing against Amelie’s face as she stood outside the private hangar. The sleek lines of Max’s jet gleamed in the early light, engines humming softly.

Max was already there, waiting, a steady presence amidst the chaos.

She forced a smile as she climbed aboard, but Max immediately caught the shift in her mood — the tightness in her jaw, the distant look in her eyes.

Max closed the door behind her with a quiet thud and gave her a long look.

—You okay?— he asked, voice low.

Amelie hesitated. She wanted to say yes, wanted to convince herself it was just tiredness or nerves from the shoot. But the truth was heavier than that, sinking like a stone in her chest.

—Not really,— she admitted, voice small, almost brittle.

Max nodded, settling into the plush leather seat across from her. The cabin was quiet, the soft hum of the jet’s systems the only sound as they taxied toward the runway.

—Lan’s got a brutal schedule right now.—

She blinked slowly, staring out the window at the sun just rising over the Mediterranean. —I know. I get it. But it still hurts.—

Max was silent for a moment, watching her carefully before he spoke.

—You know, Ames, it’s okay to say that stuff out loud. To him, I mean. You can’t keep carrying it all inside and expect things to fix themselves.—

She looked down at her hands folded in her lap, nails picking at the edge of her dress.

—I’m scared.—

—Of what?— Max asked gently.

—Of breaking us. Of going back to how things were before. When we didn’t talk. When I felt like I was waiting on a ghost who wasn’t sure if he wanted me.—

Max leaned forward, earnest.

—That’s why you need to be honest with him. You guys have been through the worst, Ames. You’ve come back from a place most people don’t even get out of. But that only works if you grow together, not alone. If you keep stuff locked away, you’re just building walls instead of bridges.—

Amelie’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears, but she blinked them away stubbornly.

—I want to be better at that. I want us to be better.—

Max smiled softly, the kind of smile that felt like a steady anchor.

—You’re not alone in this. Lando’s probably feeling the weight too. But if you both don’t show up fully, it’s the same old story. You remember that pain, yeah? Don’t let it become the soundtrack again.—

Amelie swallowed hard, the weight of Max’s words settling deep in her chest. She looked up, meeting his steady gaze, grateful for the quiet honesty between them.

—Thanks, Max.— Her voice was soft but sincere. —I needed to hear that.—

He gave a small nod, then leaned back, the jet smoothly lifting off into the brightening sky.

As the clouds passed beneath them, Amelie closed her eyes, clutching the note in her hand. Maybe this time, she thought, they could figure it out. Together.

Because love wasn’t just about the easy moments. It was about the hard ones too—when you chose to stay, to fight, and to grow.

And she wasn’t ready to give up on Lan. Not yet.

-------------

liked by gridgossipqueen, carlando2020, and others

f1gossipgirl: Amelie Dayman arriving in Belgium with Max Verstappen ahead of the Grand Prix weekend!

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maxchampagne88: not to be delulu but she looks lowkey sad… Lando fix it with a forehead kiss or smth 😭 → lanmeliecore: @maxchampagne88 he’s probs already texting her “where u at bubs” 😭💕 → sunnyamelie: @lanmeliecore if he’s not then I WILL

f1tiktokleaks: nah bc if MY gf looked like that walking through the airport i’d be flying the plane myself 😤✈️ → pitlaneprince: @f1tiktokleaks lando somewhere booking a jet rn

chaoticwags: lando locking in p1 just bc he saw her walk in like that 😭

ameliesleftboot: if she cries on camera i’m suing the FIA for emotional damage → gridgossipgirl: @ameliesleftboot class action lawsuit i’m in

drs4lanmelie: max better be cracking dad jokes to cheer her up that’s his emotional support bestie duties fr → verstappened: @drs4lanmelie imagine Lando sees that and sprints across the paddock 😭😭

lanmama: she’s glowing but that’s def the “i miss my man” walk 😭 → ameliedaymanfanacc: @lanmama and don’t we all 🫠🫠🫠

mclarenmami: why she look sad 😭 max carrying the emotional support duties now?? → ameliesbandaid: @mclarenmami LANDO GET UP AND FIX IT

lanmelieupdates: okay but why wasn’t she on the plane with him?? → notameliealt: @lanmelieupdates trouble in lanmelie paradise or just ✨drama✨ → lanlanlo: @notameliealt she prob needed space bc of the silverstone burnout 😩

wagsunite: i fear lando better bring flowers or we are about to get another hit single 😭

verstappensgirlies: max and amelie bonding again is sooo healing actually → lanloversupremacy: @verstappensgirlies yeah until lando sees it and has a meltdown 💀

pitlaneprincess: lando landed solo, she looks tired, and max is suddenly around again… i’m nervous 😬 → chaoticwags: @pitlaneprincess breathe babe it’s just pre-race anxiety (i hope) → norisimp: @chaoticwags it’s either podium or breakup no in-between

fanamelie: she’s in her “i need a walk and a playlist” era → sickoszn: @fanamelie watch her go #1 with a heartbreak banger while lando’s crying into his helmet 😭

gridgossipqueen: not the ✨sad girl walk✨ through arrivals 😭 → f1slayzone: @gridgossipqueen i fear she cried on the plane. i would’ve too.

lanmelieupdates: the fact that lando landed last night alone and now she’s showing up like this… something is not lanmelie-ing 😟 → mclarenwives: @lanmelieupdates don’t say that rn i’m fragile → pitwallgf: @lanmelieupdates they probably just fought over something dumb like who left the toothbrush at the hotel

ferrarigf77: max and amelie back together on screen is crazy… lando don’t check this post

wagsinchaos: girl has sad poetry playing in her headphones i just know it → lanmelie4everrr: @wagsinchaos it’s giving “manchild acoustic” on loop

bbysilverstone: ok but why does it feel like she didn’t sleep?? her eyes look tired af 😩 → pirelliprincess: @bbysilverstone maybe she was on the phone with lando all night fixing whatever tf is going on

lanmama: it better not be what i think it is → ameliesbitch: @lanmama if they break up i’m deleting my account i’m so serious

gridsideglam: this is a woman who just said “i’m fine” and then looked out the window for 7 hours → chaoticwags: @gridsideglam she’s in her “slow sad playlist and croissant” era and i respect it

-------------

The hotel room door clicked shut behind him with a muted thud, but even that small sound seemed to echo too loudly in the thick silence.

Lando paused just inside the doorway.

The first thing he saw was her suitcase—unzipped and half-open on the bench at the foot of the bed, clothes folded too precisely to mean she was relaxed. The second thing was the soft steam curling out from beneath the bathroom door, the shower still running.

His chest tightened.

She was here.

But not really.

She hadn’t answered any of his texts since this morning. Not the good morning, love you one. Not the two calls after press. Not the on my way to the hotel—missed you voice note.

He dropped his duffel by the armchair and ran a hand through his curls, his jaw tightening. He knew she was mad. Or worse—disappointed. And that always hit harder than yelling.

The worst part? He wasn’t even sure which thing had tipped her over. Was it missing the dinner back in Monaco? The early flight without a word until she found the note? Or just the accumulation of all the little ways he’d failed to be present lately?

He exhaled, long and sharp, and peeled off his hoodie before reaching for the shirt he planned to wear out with the boys. Just a casual dinner—with Alex, Charles and George. Nothing big. Nothing wild. But now, it felt… heavy.

The bathroom door creaked open.

Steam billowed out first, then her.

Amelie stepped into the room wrapped in a towel, her curls wet and clinging to her shoulders, her skin flushed from the heat of the shower. She didn’t speak. Just glanced at him once, briefly, then made a beeline for the vanity.

Lando’s eyes followed her.

The silence between them wasn’t angry—not yet—but it was thick. Tense. Like a wall had been quietly built in the hours they hadn’t spoken.

She dabbed serum onto her cheeks. Brushed her lashes. Swiped balm across her lips.

He pulled on his jeans. Buttoned his shirt. Fiddled with the sleeves to roll them casually, watching her in the mirror, his mouth pressing into a line.

Still nothing.

When Amelie finished her skincare routine, she crossed the room and knelt by her suitcase. Her towel dropped onto the bed, replaced by soft grey pajama bottoms and a faded Mexico City Grand Prix t-shirt—one of his, he realized.

But the moment still caught him.

His brows pinched. —Wait… you’re not coming to dinner?—

She paused, straightening up slowly, meeting his eyes in the mirror.

Her voice was low. Even. —No.—

—Why not?— he asked, cautious but already bracing for something deeper.

She turned to face him fully, arms crossed loosely over her chest. —Because I don’t feel like pretending everything’s fine in front of everyone.—

That hit like a gut punch. He blinked. —So you’re just… what? Gonna shut me out?—

Her mouth twitched, not into a smile. Something smaller. Sadder. —I’ve tried not shutting you out. That clearly didn’t work either.—

Lando took a step toward her. —Amelie, come on. Don’t do this now.—

—Now?— she repeated, voice rising slightly. —Now is when you suddenly want to talk? After ignoring every message and skipping every moment that actually mattered to me for weeks? You only notice the problem when it messes with your plans.—

His jaw clenched. —That’s not fair.—

—Isn’t it?— she shot back. —Because I’m starting to think the only version of me you have time for is the one who shows up, smiles, and stays quiet about how fucking lonely this all feels.—

The words hit the room like thunder. Lando stared at her, lips parting, but no words came out fast enough.

Amelie shook her head, turning away as she walked toward the nightstand and unplugged her phone. —You know what? Go to dinner, Lando. Go laugh and drink and act like nothing’s wrong.—

—You’re acting like I don’t care,— he said, voice hardening now. —Like I don’t try. You think I don’t feel this distance too? Fuck, Amelie, I’m trying to juggle everything. The championship, the press, the team, us—

—But you keep dropping me first,— she said quietly.

And that broke something in both of them.

They stood in silence again, the room colder somehow. The steam from her shower long gone. The soft buzz of the city outside the only sound between them.

Lando’s mouth opened like he was about to say something, anything—maybe to take it back, maybe to fix it—but Amelie was already turning away from him.

—You don’t get it,— she murmured, not even angry anymore. Just done. —I’ve been patient. I’ve waited. I’ve defended you when people said I was too available, too understanding. But the truth is… I don’t know how much more of this I can do if I’m the only one fighting to feel seen.—

He stepped forward, voice strained. —You are seen. Amelie, you’re everything to me. Just because I miss a dinner or get pulled into something doesn’t mean I don’t love you.—

—But it does mean I’m not your priority,— she said, finally looking at him again. Her eyes were wet but steady. —And I don’t need to be everything. But I need to be something more than an afterthought.—

He flinched at that, his hands balling into fists at his sides.

—You think this is easy for me?— he snapped, the frustration finally boiling over. —You think I like being this stretched? I hate missing time with you. But I can’t just drop the job every time something goes sideways. I’m not choosing between you and the sport, Amelie. I’m trying to have both.—

—And I’m tired of always being the part you try to squeeze in,— she said sharply. —You don’t have both, Lando. You’re slowly losing one because you’re too busy convincing yourself everything’s fine.—

They stared at each other, chest to chest now, the heat of the argument radiating between them.

—So what?— he bit out. —You want to break up? Walk away? You want to throw away everything we’ve fought to build just because I’ve had a few shit weeks?—

Amelie’s breath caught. That wasn’t what she wanted. Not even close. But god, the way he made it sound like she was the one tearing it all down.

—No,— she said, her voice cracking. —I want you to see me. I want you to show up. And I want to stop feeling like loving you means shrinking myself to fit into the little gaps you leave open.—

That silenced him.

Lando looked at her like she’d just shattered the floor between them, like he didn’t even know what part of this to fix first.

But the damage was done.

Amelie blinked slowly, wiped at the corner of her eye with the back of her hand, and turned away again, pulling back the sheets on her side of the bed.

—I’m tired,— she said, quieter now. —I’m not coming tonight. I can’t sit there and pretend like I’m not hurting.—

Lando stood frozen for a long beat. Then he nodded, the motion stiff. —Right. Okay.—

He grabbed his watch from the dresser, the keys from the nightstand, and crossed the room in silence.

The door closed behind him with a soft click.

And Amelie exhaled a breath she didn’t even realize she was holding—shaky, fragile, the kind that made your whole chest cave in.

She slid into bed, turned off the lamp, and lay there in the dark, the echo of his absence louder than any fight they’d had.

And for the first time in a long time, she didn’t know what tomorrow would bring.

136 notes · View notes

kathlare · 11 hours ago

Text

she's so gone

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Amelie and Lando navigate a tense and emotionally charged race weekend at Spa, both struggling with unspoken feelings and growing distance.

Wordcount: 5.5 k

Warnings: none

full masterlist // request over here!

July 27th, 2025 - Spa-Francorchamps, Belgium

The room was still cloaked in early morning light, soft grey clouds leaking through the slats of the blinds, casting delicate shadows across the floor. There was a coolness to the air, the kind that wrapped itself around Amelie’s bare legs as she stirred beneath the sheets, instinctively reaching across the bed—only to find the space beside her already empty.

She blinked slowly, lashes brushing her cheekbones, adjusting to the quiet.

Then she saw him.

Lando, sitting on the edge of the bed, his back to her, bent forward as he tied the laces on his shoes. The dark hoodie he wore clung to his shoulders in soft folds, and the tension in his body was unmistakable. Focused. Tired. Distant.

Her chest ached at the sight.

They hadn’t really spoken all weekend.

She’d watched every session from the Red Bull garage, Max keeping her distracted, occasionally casting her side glances like he knew exactly what she was trying to avoid. Ferrari had given her a pass too, and she’d floated between the two, trying to feel less like a ghost in her boyfriend’s world.

It hadn’t worked.

Lando straightened slowly, not looking at her yet, and adjusted the strap of his McLaren backpack slung over one shoulder. The silence stretched long between them, heavy with things they hadn’t said.

Finally, without turning around, he spoke.

—You coming with me?—

Amelie paused. Swallowed down the lump that had been sitting in her throat since last night.

—I’ll go later. I want to shower first.—

He nodded once. Just once. Not a word. Then he finally turned.

And smiled.

But it wasn’t the smile she knew. It didn’t reach his eyes, didn’t crinkle the corner of his lips the way it used to when he called her "mi amor" or made fun of her morning hair. It was a ghost of a smile. Polite. Almost careful.

—Okay,— he said softly.

She held his gaze for a second. Long enough to feel her heart twist. But not long enough to make it better.

He stepped toward her slowly, walking back to the side of the bed. Then, with a gentle hand, brushed some hair from her forehead and leaned down.

The kiss he pressed there was warm. Lingering. A little sad.

She closed her eyes at the feeling, holding her breath.

—Good luck, Lan,— she whispered.

He hesitated, like he wanted to say something else. Maybe he did. But before the words could come out, his phone buzzed from the dresser.

He glanced at the screen.

—It’s my mum. She’s downstairs.—

Amelie nodded, keeping her face soft.

—Okay.—

He leaned in, kissed her temple one more time, then turned and left. The door closed gently behind him.

She stayed in bed long after he left, curled on her side, blinking at the empty space where he’d been.

Downstairs, the air outside the hotel was brisk with early morning dew, the trees shifting gently in the soft breeze. Lando adjusted the strap of his backpack again as he stepped through the revolving doors and caught sight of his mum waiting with a group of relatives near the transport shuttle. The Belgian side of his family—his aunt, her husband, a few cousins—had gathered early, laughing softly among themselves, all wearing McLaren caps or orange somewhere on them.

Cisca turned the moment she saw him, her face lighting up, though her smile faltered just the slightest bit as she scanned his features.

He was smiling.

But it was the same one he’d given Amelie. That smile that tried too hard to look easy.

—There’s our pole sitter!— his aunt beamed, pulling him into a hug as the others clapped or cheered.

Lando chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck, mumbling polite greetings. He was used to the attention by now. It wasn’t that.

Cisca gave him a long look, her eyes flicking over the tightness in his shoulders, the way he shifted on his feet like he couldn’t quite settle. Something was off. She could feel it in her bones—mothers always knew.

—Where’s Amelie?— she asked lightly, eyes narrowing just enough to catch his flinch.

—She, uh... she’s not feeling great,— Lando lied quickly, eyes darting to the side.

—Hm.—

That was all she said.

Cisca didn’t press. Not in front of everyone.

Instead, she reached for her son’s hand and gave it a firm, grounding squeeze.

It was subtle. Silent. But it said everything.

I know you’re lying. I know something’s wrong. And I know you’re hurting. But I’m here.

Lando’s jaw clenched as he returned her squeeze. Just for a second. His throat burned with all the things he couldn’t say right now, especially not with his cousin asking for a selfie and his aunt digging in her bag for a McLaren flag.

He put on his race face.

Because he had to.

Because the world would be watching soon, and today was supposed to be one of the biggest days of his season. Pole at Spa. His mum’s home country. The orange army waiting. The pressure crushing.

But none of it compared to the weight in his chest from that quiet hotel room upstairs.

From Amelie’s voice when she said good luck like it meant goodbye.

From the way she didn’t ask when will I see you later?, like maybe she wasn’t sure anymore.

She hadn’t fought him this weekend. Not once. Not with her words. But that was the part that scared him the most.

Because Amelie always fought. For people she loved. For things she believed in. She used to fight him, god, even when he was too dumb to listen—whether it was over a missed call or forgetting her pickles on takeout night.

Now?

Now she was quiet. And that terrified him more than anything.

He forced another smile as cameras flashed and his cousin looped an arm around his shoulders, but the only thing Lando could think about was how cold her side of the bed had been that morning. And how fucking stupid it would be to win today and not have her really there when he crossed the line.

Because it didn’t matter how many races he won, or poles he took, or interviews he nailed, if he lost her again.

He wasn’t going to do that. Not again. Not this time.

As the shuttle pulled up and his family began climbing in, Cisca held him back for a moment, placing a gentle hand on his chest.

—Talk to her,— she said quietly, eyes soft but serious. —Before it’s too late.—

Lando nodded, eyes glossing just slightly in the corners, but he blinked it away.

—Yeah. I will.—

He just had to win today. Get through this. And then fix the only thing that really mattered.

Because no matter how fast he drove, there was no finish line worth crossing if Amelie wasn’t on the other side of it.

-------------

liked by mclarensmut, lanbby, and others

daymanupdates: our pole sitter is here 🧡

View all 69,003 comments

lanmelie4life: why do they both look like they’ve been crying?? who upset mom and dad 😭 → daymansangel: @lanmelie4life fix it god pls fix it they were just in monaco being soft

softnorris: lando got pole and still looks like someone kicked his puppy 😭 → gridgf: @softnorris bet he just wants his girl by the garage like always 😭

f1wifematerial: not even p1 could cheer him up… who got him in the feels → lanmclovin: @f1wifematerial it’s giving “she’s mad at me and I deserve it” → maxsunbabe: @lanmclovin real Lando “guilty conscience” Norris 😭

lanmeliesupremacy: I fear they had a fight and I’m spiraling

softie4lando: why is he walking like someone told him Amelie cancelled date night → landoverit: @softie4lando bet he didn’t pack her Monster can in the fridge and now he’s paying the price

gridgirlie: his smile has been archived. we need Amelie on the pit wall IMMEDIATELY → trackbae: @gridgirlie someone send her a pass and an “i’m not mad, just disappointed” text

pastelaurora_: he better not be the reason she looked like she was gonna cry → ameliezone: @pastelaurora_ justice for Amelie and her airport tears

mclarensmut: bro looks like he cried in the car on the way here → lanlornorris: @mclarensmut BECAUSE HIS GIRL NOT IN PAPAYA THIS WEEKEND 😭

gridgossip: lando’s in his “don’t talk to me i miss my gf” era → monacolips: @gridgossip she’s literally 100m away in ferrari red he’s suffering

lanmama: we all joke but if they’re fighting i will NOT survive → ameliemuse: @lanmama no bc this feels like the pre-miami soft launch tension again

f1slays: not lando going pole just to be sad in HQ orange 😭😭 → lanmeliehigh: @f1slays he saw her in the red bull motorhome and pole meant NOTHING

lanbby: miss girl please go back to papaya I am begging you → sunnyln4: @lanbby even Zak looked confused 😭

meltinginpapaya: imagine dropping 2.5 secs in quali just cuz your gf didn't wave at you → charliestired: @meltinginpapaya this man is RACING THROUGH HEARTBREAK

lanmelieupdates: they’re both in the paddock and STILL acting like strangers… the lanmelie lore goes deep this weekend 🫣 → paddockclown: @lanmelieupdates they better be pulling a PR stunt or i’m suing → softf1gf: @lanmelieupdates nah bc why she posted a photo w charles yesterday 😭

lanmeliequeen: Lando looking like he lost his charger and his girl in one day 😭 → ameliesangel: @lanmeliequeen that poor boy needs a hug (and maybe a Monster)

simplynorris: Pole but make it sad. Classic Lando hours. → lanbby: @simplynorris if only Amelie showed up in his garage tho...

thehatersgonnahate: He ain’t winning nothing without his girl there, facts. → lanmeliequeen: @thehatersgonnahate facts but also go get a hobby pls

paddockvibes: When bae’s at the wrong garage and you’re stuck acting normal 😩 → lanlornorris: @paddockvibes mood all weekend

amelie_influencer: I swear Amelie’s energy is the whole McLaren team’s power supply 😂 → lanmama: @amelie_influencer and she’s gone AWOL this weekend, no wonder we’re seeing a sad Norris

-------------

The sound of tires against wet pavement echoed dully in the quiet Belgian morning as Max’s car cruised down the narrow roads leading toward the circuit. The clouds hung low and heavy, threatening more rain, and the whole world outside the window looked like it had been dipped in grey.

Inside the car, it was warm. Silent, save for the low hum of the engine and the occasional swish of windshield wipers.

Amelie sat curled against the passenger seat window, oversized sweater drowning her frame, sleeves pulled halfway over her hands. Her hair was still a little damp from her rushed shower, and her sunglasses were on despite the lack of sunlight—an extra barrier between her and the world.

Max glanced at her sideways.

—You look like shit,— he said, voice flat, as he shifted gears.

She didn’t even blink. —Thanks, Max. Always the charmer.—

—Just saying it like it is.— He shrugged. —You didn’t sleep, huh?—

Amelie pressed her forehead against the cool glass. —Not really.—

—Thought so. You look like someone who cried into her pillow and then lost the pillow in the dark.—

That made her huff a small breath, the ghost of a laugh caught in her throat. But it didn’t make it all the way out.

—You always this comforting in the mornings?— she muttered.

—Only when I’m chauffeuring depressed girlfriends who forgot their boyfriend is starting from pole today.—

She shot him a glare from behind her sunglasses. He didn’t even flinch.

—Exaggerate more, please.—

—You were supposed to come meet his Belgian family, right?— Max added, more seriously now, his fingers tapping lightly on the steering wheel.

She didn’t answer at first. Just stared out the window as the misty trees blurred past.

—Yeah,— she said finally, her voice low, like it was barely tethered to her throat. —Was supposed to.—

Max shot her another look. —They’re all here already. His aunt, cousins, the whole clan. I saw them in the hospitality area this morning. Cisca’s with them.—

Amelie didn’t respond. Her fingers were twitching nervously inside her sleeves.

—They were asking about you.—

Her jaw clenched.

—Max.—

—What?— he said, not harshly, just tired. —I’m just saying. They like you. They were excited to meet you. I mean, yeah, you and Lando had a fight, but that doesn’t mean you ghost the whole family.—

Amelie turned her face further into the window.

—You don’t get it.—

—Try me.—

She stayed quiet again, the rhythm of the wipers filling the pause.

—It’s not just a fight, Max. We’re not…— she swallowed, jaw tightening. —I don’t know what we are right now.—

Max sighed. Not dramatic, not annoyed. Just… heavy.

—You guys always do this dance. You argue, one of you gets stubborn, the other one acts like they’re fine, and then somehow you crawl your way back to each other because you’re both miserable apart.—

—Well maybe this time we won’t.—

That came out sharper than she meant, and Max raised his eyebrows but didn’t push back.

They pulled into the circuit parking lot in silence. A few early crew members and journalists were already scattered across the paddock, umbrellas dotting the foggy morning. The security waved Max through, familiar with his face and car.

When he finally shifted the car into park, Max didn’t move to get out. Instead, he turned to her fully, his eyes serious now.

—You know what’s gonna suck? If he wins this race and you’re not there.—

Amelie slowly reached for the door handle but paused.

—Don’t guilt-trip me.—

—I’m not. I’m just being real. You don’t have to kiss babies and wave flags. Just show up. For him. For yourself. Hell, even just to meet the damn family who already thinks you’re the girl he’s gonna marry someday.—

Amelie flinched like the word itself had physically hit her.

Max ran a hand down his face.

—Look. I know he’s been an idiot lately. You both kinda have. But if you love him, don’t let one shitty weekend ruin everything.—

She turned to him, finally pushing her sunglasses up into her hair. Her eyes were red around the edges, makeup barely hiding the puffiness.

—You done?—

Max blinked. —Yeah. For now.—

She opened the door, slinging her small bag over one shoulder.

—Cool. I’ll be in Ferrari hospitality if anyone asks.—

—Amelie...—

—Don’t.— she cut him off, already stepping out into the mist. —I just… can’t play happy girlfriend today, okay? I need space.—

She didn’t wait for his answer. The door clicked shut behind her, and the cold morning air hit her like a slap—bracing, sharp, and exactly what she needed.

The paddock was slowly coming to life, umbrellas bobbing among the early rush of engineers and media crew. She pulled the hood of her sweater over her head, kept her eyes down, and walked with purpose, weaving through the familiar chaos like a ghost.

No one stopped her. Not yet.

She was just about to reach the steps to the Ferrari motorhome when she heard it—

—Amelie!—

Her body stiffened.

She didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. That warm, melodic Dutch accent, soft but unmistakable.

Cisca.

Shit.

Amelie turned slowly, trying to school her face into something neutral—calm, pleasant, not like she wanted to crawl into the nearest garage and disappear. Cisca was walking toward her, umbrella in hand, raincoat cinched at the waist, the same kind smile on her face that always made Amelie feel at home. She looked effortlessly elegant, like she always did. And concerned, like she knew.

Because of course she knew.

—Hi, love,— Cisca said warmly, reaching to kiss both her cheeks like always. —I’ve been looking for you all morning.—

Amelie forced a small smile. —Sorry, I just got here.—

—Max told me you weren’t feeling well. Are you alright?— Her hand came to rest gently on Amelie’s arm.

God, why did she have to be so nice?

—I’m okay. Just tired, I guess.—

Cisca gave her a long look. That motherly one that saw through everything. Amelie kept her eyes steady, though it took effort.

—Well, come on then. The rest of the family is at McLaren. They’re dying to meet you.—

Fuck.

She opened her mouth, ready to make some excuse—any excuse. A meeting, an interview, the flu, hell, even food poisoning. But when she looked into Cisca’s face—so warm and trusting, so sure—the words stuck in her throat.

So instead, she nodded.

—Okay.—

Cisca smiled, gently looping her arm through Amelie’s like nothing was wrong.

Like Amelie wasn’t about to walk directly into the one place she’d been avoiding all weekend.

They walked slowly through the paddock, Cisca waving at a few familiar faces, chatting casually about the weather and the track conditions. Amelie barely heard a word. Her stomach twisted with every step closer to the McLaren motorhome, the bright orange logo getting larger and more blinding the nearer they got.

And then they were there.

Cisca reached for the door and turned back to her with a grin.

—Come on. They’re going to love you.—

Too late to run now.

-------------

liked by chicanechic, racecarcrazy, and others

daymanupdates: Amelie arriving solo to the paddock in Spa today 👀✨ No Lando in sight (he got there earlier) but she’s serving main character energy as always. That walk? That fit? She knows we’re watching.

View all 39,002 comments

f1queenbee: amelie and lando both lookin like they lost their fav snacks or something 🥲 → racecarcrazy: @f1queenbee big mood, this vibe scream breakup energy fr fr

spa_sips: lowkey think they’re on that “we need a break” type of energy 😬 → lanmelie4life: @spa_sips nooo pls not now i’m not ready to cry😭😭

lanmelie_shipper: imagine the drama if they actually take a break rn i’ll die on the spot → casual_f1fan: @lanmelie_shipper same, need some happy vibes not this sad f1 tea 🫠

speedygal: Amelie pulling up solo like 👀 → pitlanepeach: @speedygal sis looking sad af tho, what’s the tea? ☕️😭

tracktok: Lando got there first? bet they’re not vibin rn 😬 → racequeen23: @tracktok lowkey feels like a breakup vibe 🥲💔

f1shady: where’s the cute couple pics tho? this solo entrance hits different 😞

gasolineglitch: someone give her a hug plz, she’s giving “lost in the paddock” energy 😭 → grandprixgurl: @gasolineglitch facts, this ain’t the Lanmelie we signed up for 😭😭

racequeen_: ams ghosting mclaren garage all weekend, been vibin at red bull and ferrari? hmm 🤨 → lanmelie_stans: @racequeen_ yeah that’s sus af, feels like she’s avoiding lando for real 😬

f1queenbee: ams pulling up solo? uh oh 👀 → lanmeliesimpsquad: @f1queenbee big yikes, break up vibes or nah? 🥲

speedy_gal: lando got here early and she’s late and alone… this ain’t it 😭 → pitstopprobs: @speedy_gal bet they’re giving us that silent treatment again smh

trackside_tears: someone said break up? i’m not crying you’re crying 😭😭 → amesadvocate: @trackside_tears pls noooo, they better sort this out before the race 🥺

speedster_sis: wait wait wait… she hasn’t been near mclaren?? just Ferrari and RB?? whattttt 😳 → pitlane_gossip: @speedster_sis lowkey feels like she’s sending a message 👀

chicanechic: if this is a break up, imma start my own fan club for sad singles 💀 → amelie_fanatic: @chicanechic same, bring tissues and hoodies pls 😩

f1tea_: ams hanging out with the reds and bulls, while lando’s stuck solo in his own garage? 😭 that’s cold

trackside_gal_: if she’s not in mclaren garage, how they gonna fix the vibes? break up energy all over this paddock → lanmeliehope: @trackside_gal_ maybe she needs space but pls no permanent space 😩

vroomvroom_drama: ams skipping lando’s crew and chillin with rivals like that? that’s a power move or a breakup move? → pitstopwhisperer: @vroomvroom_drama bro it’s definitely one or the other, can’t be innocent lol

speedracer_99: ams showing up alone? yikes, that’s sus af 🥲 → lanmelie_hopeful: @speedracer_99 maybe just late? or… you know, quiet before the storm? 😬

pitlane_princess: when lando pulls up early and ams rolls solo... the tea is brewing ☕️👀 → f1shippingcentral: @pitlane_princess same energy as last time they fought smh

curvesandcorners: her vibe looks lowkey off today, my heart tho 💔

fastlane_fanatic: this feels like a ‘see you at the podium’ but not the way we want 🥺 → lanmelie_fanclub: @fastlane_fanatic pls no break up at spa, my soul can’t take it 😭

trackside_trouble: ams flexing that solo entrance but we all know she ain’t happy 😞 → maxx_verstappend: @trackside_trouble honestly same energy, been there lol

-------------

Lando stepped out of the McLaren briefing room, the sharp buzz of voices still echoing faintly behind the closed doors. His mind was heavy — the team had gone over every detail of the weekend ahead, but all he could think about was how little space there felt to breathe between the tension and the weight on his chest.

He was just about to head toward his driver’s room for a quick nap before the parade, when he caught it — that sound. Clear, bright, like a sudden burst of sunlight cutting through the gray paddock morning.

Amelie’s laugh.

His heart stuttered and, almost without thinking, he turned toward the communal area where the sound had come from. There she was — standing just a few feet away, animatedly talking with his mum, aunts, and cousins. The corners of her mouth lifted naturally as she smiled and shared a joke, her hand lightly touching his aunt’s arm.

Lando’s feet moved on their own accord, walking toward her like a magnet pulling iron. His family noticed immediately, their faces lighting up as they welcomed him with hugs and easy chatter.

He slid onto a chair next to Amelie, sinking into the warmth of the group, but feeling oddly like an outsider watching the conversation from behind glass.

Suddenly, his mum’s hand found his and gave it a gentle squeeze, a silent signal that made his pulse quicken. She nodded subtly toward Amelie, who had just stood up and was walking toward the bar to order a coffee.

Lando pushed himself up, heart pounding, and followed.

Lando caught up to her just as she reached the small espresso bar tucked into the corner of the lounge. She stood with her back to him, fingers curling lightly around the cup she’d just ordered, shoulders tense beneath the soft fabric of her sweater.

He cleared his throat softly.

—Hey.—

She didn’t turn immediately, and when she did, her eyes were guarded, tired.

—Look, Lando, I really don’t want to talk right now.— Her voice was low, almost fragile. —I’m only here because I couldn’t say no to your mum.—

He took a careful step closer, trying to read every flicker of emotion in her face.

Lando’s hand lifted slowly, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face, his fingers trembling just a little as they traced the curve of her cheek. His voice was soft, barely above a whisper.

—Please. Just… give me a minute.—

Amelie’s eyes flickered to his hand for a brief second before she looked away, the weight in her gaze settling deep into her chest.

—Lando... I just... I need space. I need time to think. This... this isn’t easy for me either.—

He swallowed hard, his throat tight like the world was squeezing him. He pressed his palm gently to her cheek.

—I don’t want to break up.— His voice cracked on the last word, raw and desperate. —I know we’ve been fighting, and yeah, maybe I haven’t been around as much. But I’m here now. I’m not going anywhere. Please, don’t shut me out.—

Amelie blinked, fighting tears that threatened to spill. She looked at him like she wanted to believe him but wasn’t sure if she could.

Lando’s hand lingered for a moment longer, then dropped slowly to his side. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself against the storm swirling inside.

—Okay.— he said quietly. —Space. I get it. But can you… just stay in the garage today? Be around? We don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. Just… be here. With me.—

Amelie hesitated, then nodded, the barest hint of a grateful smile flickering on her lips.

—I’ll stay.—

He reached out again, this time wrapping her hand in his, holding on like it was the only solid thing he had.

—Thank you.—

She squeezed back softly, eyes still wary but not closing the door completely.

They stood there for a moment, the noise of the paddock fading to a distant hum as something fragile and unspoken settled between them.

Lando gave a small, hopeful smile.

—We’ll figure it out. One step at a time.—

Amelie let out a quiet breath, a mix of relief and uncertainty.

—One step.—

And with that, they turned slowly back toward the garage, walking side by side into the uncertain day ahead.

-------------

liked by mcclarenmama, carlando2020, and others

ln4updates: Lando slays the #BelgianGP with a solid P2 finish! 🏎️💨 And can we talk about that heart-melting hug from his mum? Pure gold moments off and on the track ❤️

View all 36,022 comments

racebuff2025: Lando P2, but where’s Amelie at the podium? 👀 → lanmelover92: @racebuff2025 yeah she was at the garage but no podium love? sus vibes 🥲

mclarenfanatic: That hug from his mum though, so sweet! But I lowkey miss the Amelie hug too 😞 → landofan4life: @mclarenfanatic same! She’s usually all over him after the race, hope everything’s okay 💔

f1gossipqueen: Amelie watching from the garage but skipping the podium? Y’all think they fighting? 😬 → lanmelover92: @f1gossipqueen honestly, it’s got that vibe… they always do the kiss/hug thing, what happened?

amelie_fanatic: If this is a break up, imma start my own fan club for sad singles 💀 → lanmelover92: @amelie_fanatic same, bring tissues and hoodies pls 😩

pitstop_pete: she always does that podium thing, no kiss no hug this time tho? → mclaren_mad: @pitstop_pete maybe they’re having a rough patch? or just tired? either way, hope it’s nothing serious 🤞

f1_romantic: I swear every time Amelie’s not around the podium, my heart skips a beat 😭 → amarie_ships: @f1_romantic same! They gotta fix this ASAP, we need our Lanmelie moments back 💔

turbo_trouble: no Amelie PDA, but Lando’s mum gave him the real energy boost lol

curious_coder: can someone confirm if they’re okay? or is this the start of a Lanmelie drama? → hopeful_harold: @curious_coder fingers crossed it’s just race stress. but the silence is loud 👀

speedster_squad: Lando P2 but where’s Ames on the podium? 🤔 → lanmelie4ever: @speedster_squad I saw her at the garage but no podium love? Something’s sus 👀

pitlane_problems: She usually right there giving him kisses and hugs after every race… what happened this time? 🥲 → amesupporter: @pitlane_problems Maybe she was tired or something? But it’s definitely not like her!

f1shipperzz: Lanmelie vibes off lately, hope they’re okay… or is this the start of a breakup? 😭

trackside_tears: Lando got P2 and no Amelie hug?? My heart can’t take this 🥺 → amefanclub: @trackside_tears Same, she’s usually his lucky charm on the podium 😞

garage_gossip: She was at McLaren garage but like ghost mode when it mattered smh 😬

pitlane_pepper: This ain’t like Amelie at all… no hug or kiss after the race? Something’s up 🥲 → lanmelie_shipper: @pitlane_pepper fr, that’s their thing! Hope it’s just tiredness and not drama 😔

amelie_fanatic: Y’all I’m worried… she’s usually so there for him, this silence is loud 💔 → hopeful_heart: @amelie_fanatic same, sending them all the good vibes rn 🙏💛

f1tea_spiller: I’m not saying break up, but that energy on the podium… something’s brewing ☕️💔 → lanmelie_watch: @f1tea_spiller literally feeling those vibes too, hope they’re just busy not broken 😢

mclaren_4life: Watching from the garage but no podium moment? That’s new for Ames and Lan 😞 → lanmelie_lover: @mclaren_4life ikr, usually they can’t keep their hands off each other after a race

pitstopgossip: If this is a quiet fight, I’m already preparing my tissues and chamomile tea 😭💔

-------------

The hot spray of the shower had done little to calm Lando’s nerves. He stood in the steam-filled bathroom of the McLaren hospitality unit, towel around his waist, head lowered, water dripping from the ends of his hair as he stared blankly at the floor.

P2.

He should be happy. Proud, even. Another podium, more points for the championship. The team had clapped him on the back, Zak had given him a big grin, and the garage had erupted in celebration. But it all felt muted.

Because she hadn’t been there.

She stayed for the race. He’d seen her in the back of the garage, arms folded tightly across her chest, sunglasses hiding her eyes. But she hadn’t come forward when it ended. No kiss. No hug. No soft congratulations whispered into his ear. Just… absence.

Lando tugged on his shirt, pulling it down over his chest, the familiar orange fabric suddenly too tight. He stepped out of the bathroom, heart already uneasy, but he plastered on a smile as he walked into the private lounge.

His smile faltered almost instantly.

Only his family stood waiting — his mum, aunts, a couple of cousins. They all turned toward him, grinning, arms opening for hugs and congratulations.

—There he is!— his mum beamed, pulling him into a tight embrace. —We’re so proud of you, darling. Another podium! You were brilliant out there.—

—P2’s not bad, eh?— one of his cousins joked, clapping him on the back. —Though we were all ready to see you take it at the end.—

Lando chuckled softly, trying to mirror their energy, but his eyes were already scanning the room.

She wasn’t there.

He frowned subtly, shifting his weight. —Where’s Amelie?—

His mum’s smile froze. Just for a second — a tiny flicker, but Lando caught it immediately. Her eyes dropped to the floor before returning to his.

—She… left.—

Lando’s heart sank. He took a step back.

—What?— His voice was quiet, the single word cutting like glass. —What do you mean she left?

His mum swallowed hard. She reached for his arm, but he pulled slightly away.

—She said goodbye, sweetheart. She didn’t want to make a scene. She just… she said it was time.—

Lando’s jaw clenched. His chest tightened so fast it hurt.

He didn’t say anything else.

He turned.

Ran.

He didn’t even wait for a reply — his feet were already moving before the last syllables of his mum’s sentence reached him.

Down the corridor. Out the McLaren unit. Past media, team personnel, fans behind barriers calling his name. He couldn’t hear anything anymore. Not really. It was all muffled under the pounding of his heart.

He reached the parking lot like a man possessed, yanked open the door of his car, and slammed it shut behind him. His hands were shaking as he turned the key, engine roaring to life. The tires screeched slightly as he peeled out, the McLaren lanyard around his neck swinging wildly with every sharp turn he took through the winding Spa-Francorchamps exit roads.

He needed to get back to the hotel.

She wouldn’t do that.

She wouldn’t.

Not without telling him. Not without saying something.

Would she?

It was a blur until he reached the hotel. The underground garage. The elevator ride that felt too slow and too fast all at once.

His hand hovered over the keycard to their suite.

Then he swiped.

The soft click of the door unlocking made his stomach drop.

He pushed it open, calling out instinctively.

—Amelie?—

Silence.

Lando stepped in. The room was clean. Too clean.

His heart sank lower with each step.

Her toiletries? Gone.

Her jacket on the chair by the window? Gone.

Her sneakers by the door?

Gone.

He rushed into the bedroom.

No suitcases. No makeup bag. Not even the tiny black scrunchie she always left on the nightstand.

Gone.

She left.

Lando’s knees nearly buckled as he sank down onto the edge of the bed, breathing unevenly.

Then he scrambled for his phone. His fingers clumsily hit her name.

Calling.

Ring.

Voicemail.

Again.

Ring.

Voicemail.

Again. Again.

Nothing.

He stared at the screen, desperate. Please. One message. One missed call. One sign.

—FUCK.— he muttered, running a hand through his damp hair.

Then he opened his contacts.

Scrolled until he found Max.

He didn’t even wait. Hit call.

Max picked up on the second ring.

—Mate.— Max’s voice was cautious. He already knew.

Lando's voice cracked.

—Did she… Did Amelie talk to you? She’s not here, Max. She’s gone.—

There was a pause. Then Max exhaled.

—Yeah. She called me. Said she was flying out tonight. Early flight to Mexico.—

Lando froze.

—Mexico?—

—She needed to go home, Lando. Said she couldn’t… do it anymore. Not like this.—

Lando pressed the heel of his hand into his eyes.

—Did she say anything else? Did she… did she ask about me?—

Max’s voice was gentle now.

—She didn’t need to. You were all over her voice, mate.—

Lando let out a breath that felt like it ripped through his ribs. His chest felt hollow, like someone had taken a shovel to it.

Max spoke again.

—Give her a bit of time. She’s not trying to hurt you. She’s just… broken right now. You both are.—

Lando closed his eyes, nodded, even though Max couldn’t see him.

—I should’ve held on tighter.— he whispered.

Max didn’t reply right away. When he did, it was quiet.

—Maybe. Or maybe she just needed you to let go for a second and realize what you had before it shattered.—

Lando hung up before he cried. Before his voice broke for real.

He was alone.

And she was gone.

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