knowinglewis

[knowinglewis]

You know that now we all want you to keep writing right?? I mean I feel the same with Fading Lines but I think I speak for everyone that after it ends we will wait for your next fic.

First of all, thank you SOOO much for your kind message! It means more to me than you know and makes me feel so motivated to write even more!! 🤍🤍

I definitely plan to write more, I have 3 other fics already in progress so I'll start posting them soon once Clarity part 2 is done! I'm beeeyond excited to share them with you all and I hope that you enjoy them as well! I appreciate your support more than I can even say!! Thank you so much for your kindness and for being so patient with me as well as I try to get the rest posted!! 😭😭🤍

[knowinglewis]

when are we getting the second part??? i am sooo excited to read it but at the same time doesnt want it to end too!

Ahh I am SO sorry for the delay on getting part 2 up, life has just been way too busy this past week I've barely had a chance to sit down and write :(

I really want to get it up, but what I have planned is VERY long as I want to go out with a bang and a nice deep chapter with the emotional rollercoaster I have planned! I've considered splitting it, but I feel bad dragging it out hahaha so I will try get the it up as soon as I can!

However, because I'm so grateful for your sweet message and I want to say THANK YOU 🤍🤍🤍, I've popped a nice angsty sneak peek in the cut below hehehe it's a long one so I hope you enjoy it! Thank you again!!

The door had barely closed before your legs gave out.

You hit the floor hard, knees cracking against the wood, the breath stolen from your lungs like you'd been suffocating in the silence. The only thing that stopped you from collapsing completely was the side of the bed, where your shoulder caught it on the way down, and you slumped there, half-folded against the frame like your body had forgotten how to hold itself up.

The silence left behind was like a scream. A ringing, hollow ache that pulsed through your skull like the moment was refusing to pass. As though time itself was punishing you for letting him go without stopping him. It echoed with the sound of Lewis’ voice, still ringing in your ears like a ghost that hadn’t finished speaking just yet.

“I wanted everything with you. A home, family, a future that wasn’t just about racing or winning anymore, something real. Us, for the rest of our lives.”

Your eyes squeezed shut, still stinging as a choked sound clawed its way out of your throat. Warm, salty tears spilled uncontrollably, your body trembling as you curled tighter into the hoodie in your arms. You bent forward until your forehead touched the mattress edge, sobs racking through you violently as though you might never come back from them.

How had you let this happen? How had it all come to this?

Your heart felt as if it was caving in on itself, collapsing under the weight of everything you hadn’t said. You had pushed away the man that loved you with everything he had, and for what? 

Because of your own fear.

Because of that lingering insecurity.

Because of a girl who looked at you like you didn’t belong, and for a second, you’d believed her.

Because of a stupid look.

You let her voice be louder than his. You let her make you forget the way he looked at you, as if you were the most precious thing in the world to him. As if you were his reason, his anchor to this earth, his future.

You let that look mean more than everything he had done to show you he loved you.

And now, he was gone.

The sobs that ripped from your chest felt like your heart was punishing you from the inside. You curled forward, clutching the mattress as if it could rewind time, as if you held on tight enough, maybe you could hold onto him too.

But you hadn’t held on.

You’d let him walk away when he’d poured his entire heart out. You made him believe that you didn’t trust him. Not enough to believe him when he’d looked you in the eye and told you he loved you, that he’d always wanted you. That he had the fucking ring made for you, that he was going to ask you to be his wife. He’d dreamt of a life with you, a future with you at the center of it.

You hadn’t even asked him to stay. You’d thrown his heart back at him without even meaning to, and he’d walked away with it.

You curled tighter, fists balling into the thick fabric of his hoodie like it was the only thing holding you together. You’d let that silence hang between you while his voice cracked around his words, while he said he couldn’t do this if you were always waiting for him to leave, to cheat, to fuck this all up. Yet still, still, you’d let him go.

You didn’t need anyone else to hurt you. You were doing a fine job of it yourself. 

You were so scared of being left that you drove away the person who’d never once let you feel like an afterthought. Who had chosen you. Who had always chosen you, even before he could admit it to himself.

He had given you everything. His vulnerability, his past, his present, his truth, his love. The version of himself no one else got to see. 

And you…you gave him your doubt.

The thing you swore you were working on. The thing he’d been patient with again and again, until today.

You hated yourself for it.

“I should’ve stopped him,” you whispered into the fabric between your hands, your voice nearly unrecognisable through the sobs. “What the fuck is wrong with me?”

You’d always hoped for something real with Lewis. Even as friends, you’d always loved him more than you had known, until the night he kissed you in Shanghai when the floodgates opened and you never stopped pouring your love into each other. 

He’d given you all of that. Something real, the kind love people only dream about. He had been right there. Not the headlines, not the past, not the whispers or the women, or the noise. Just Lewis, on his knees in a thousand different ways, trying to love you enough, trying to be enough for you.

You had made him feel like he never could be.

The ring still sat where you’d left it, gleaming cruelly from atop the mattress. A perfect, impossible promise you had shattered before it could even be spoken aloud. You could barely look at it, your stomach turned every time you remembered the look on Lewis’ face, how he might have looked when he got down on one knee and asked you to be his forever. 

The ring wasn’t just a symbol of what could’ve been. It was a symbol of how deeply he’d wanted you, how long he’d planned this. How sure he’d been that you were the one for him.

And you’d ruined it all.

Your whole body trembled as the sobs returned, deeper and more guttural, stripped down to the bone. Because this wasn’t just regret.

It was the soul-deep, clawing devastation that came when you realised the only person you’d ever wanted to build a life with had left, and this time, it wasn’t because he gave up. It was because you did.

The worst part? He had told you.

Lewis had told you how he felt. He had told you he was done with that past, that you were it for him. And you hadn’t believed it. You let the ghosts of his history speak louder than his love.

Now, the love of your life was gone, and you had no one to blame but yourself.

You clutched the hoodie to your chest like a shield, curling into yourself with a kind of ache that lived deep in your heart, your skin, your every breath. It was a grief for what you had, and what you might’ve just lost.

You had no idea how to fix this. You only knew you wanted to.

Because he was the one. He was the love of your life. Now, sitting in the wreckage of your own fear, all you could do was replay the look on his face when he said he loved you, that you were the one for him, that he didn’t want anyone else, and wonder if you’d ever see it again.

[knowinglewis]

"we got lewis talking about gta6 before gta6 😜" - july 26, 2025 📷 @.f1 / tiktok

[knowinglewis]

You are an amazing writer. I love Fading Lines and I'm 100% sure that the ending will be great like any other Lewis fic you decide to write.Much love!

YOU are amazing! It makes me so happy to hear that you're enjoying it, that means the world to me!! I can't wait to share more! Thank you so insanely much for your sweet message and your support! 😭🤍🤍

[knowinglewis]

Part 2 is on its way veeeerry very soon but I can’t lie, there’s a tiny part of me that doesn’t want to finish it because that means this series will be over for real and I’m so attached to them, but I just don’t really know where else I would take the story afterwards without it getting stale eeeeek

I am really excited to share it though, definitely make sure tissues are ready because it’s going to be very emotional!!

Clarity (Fading Lines Epilogue)

Part One/Part Two

Fading Lines Masterlist

Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Summary: Two years later, with your love stronger than ever, you and Lewis are forced to confront what's still unresolved between you, while on a summer getaway with your friends.

Word Count: 13,632

Warnings: FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF. Lewis being the sweetest in the world. Smut. Jealousy, anxiety, overthinking, insecurity. No use of Y/N.

A/N: Sooo I have no self control, I loved writing this SO insanely much and my apologies for the delay in getting this posted, as I was sick and work has been super busy! Please let me know your thoughts on it or if there's anything you'd like to see next! 🤍

The engine gave a soft hum as the car rolled to a stop, tyres crunching gently over loose gravel. Afternoon sunlight spilled lazily through a canopy of trees overhead, flickering golden over a winding stone path that stretched up between old walls and flowering vines. The scent of lemon blossoms and rosemary drifted thick on the breeze, carried up from the coastline that shimmered below. 

You stepped out first, the door closing softly behind you. A breeze kissed your skin as you turned in a slow circle, taking in the view. The villa stood tall with aged shutters and ivy-cloaked balconies, perched elegantly to catch a perfect view of the Amalfi Coast. Bougainvillea spilled down in an assortment of pinks and reds, the petals scattered like confetti along the edges of the driveway.

It had been two years.

Two years since Silverstone. Since you and Lewis had officially stepped into the public eye as a couple.

In that time, the two of you had built something real, weaving your lives together through the places you visited and the moments in between. You hadn’t fully settled into his place in Monaco, but the remnants of you between travels were enough to leave your mark. You carved out a home with Lewis wherever you happened to be. Through it all, you had only grown stronger as a couple, somehow more in love than ever as each day passed.

You’d adopted another dog, a small, sweet eyed rescue puppy that kept Roscoe company when you couldn’t be with him. You’d also taken a career break a few months ago, carving out time for yourself to pursue your own passions, making your own mark on the world. The break also allowed more time for vacations like this, where you could spend the off season anywhere in the world with the love of your life.

Lewis had won his eighth championship that year, a whirlwind of a racing season, with history made and pressure heavier than ever. Headlines and endless speculation had followed: about Lewis’ possibly retiring, about a ring, about whether the two of you were secretly married already. Your Silverstone kiss had become iconic, featured in many posts, edits, and dissected in many social media threads. 

You’d laughed about some of it and brushed off the rest, but it wasn’t always easy.

The two of you had weathered storms of media noise, private doubts, moments of distance. Yet somehow, through all of it, you’d come out stronger. Still always choosing each other.

Even now, as the breeze slipped through your dress and the scent of citrus clung to your skin, you could feel it, the weight and wonder of everything you’d built. It wasn’t perfect, but it still felt like a dream each and every day.

“What do you think?” Lewis’ voice approached you as his car door closed.

The villa was beautiful. Picturesque in a way that felt like you were in a movie. You could already imagine the days stretching out before you here, soft mornings, sun-warmed evenings, and sharing a drink on the terrace. 

“It’s even more beautiful in person,” you smiled, your voice barely louder than a breath as you drank in the view. “You really outdid yourself.”

Behind you, Lewis rounded the car with his sunglasses perched atop his head, the soft sea breeze ruffling the hem of his shirt, as he slid his hand over your waist.

“I have good taste,” he murmured, dipping closer until his lips brushed the top of your temple. “That includes you.”

A warmth bloomed in your chest, unfolding like the petals along the trellis. You leaned into his shoulder for a moment, allowing yourself to melt into the certainty he carried so effortlessly. The glow of the sun with the light breeze in the air calmed you, your muscles relaxing, knowing that you both needed this holiday.

Lewis retrieved your suitcase and his own, before moving towards the entrance. You followed him up the stone steps toward the villa’s arched front door, your gaze trailing over the building’s timeless details, the carved shutters, the aged brick, and the colourful garden reaching towards the sun.

Inside, the villa opened up into cool shade and golden light, curved ceilings, terracotta floors, an open-plan kitchen that smelled faintly of rosemary. The walls were painted in soft, creamy hues, and sun filtered through linen curtains, dancing across the tiled floor.

You set your handbag down on the bench by the stairs and let your fingers brush along the worn wooden edge of the banister, still catching your breath from how effortlessly beautiful everything was.

“Do you think they’ve killed each other yet?” You asked, leaning close to him as you ascended the first few stairs together.

He didn’t need to ask who you meant when he exhaled a quiet laugh and hummed in thought. “Or they’ve stopped for a quickie along the way.”

“How long has this been going on for? Like five months?” You snorted softly.

“Yup, since Paris,” he confirmed with a slight grin. “Still claiming they were just drunk though.”

“And now they’re acting like they can’t stand to be in the same room,” You rolled your eyes as the two of you reached the landing. “Did you see Iz’s face when I told her she’d be carpooling with him though?”

“Priceless,” Lewis chuckled, running his hand down to your hip to tug you closer. “You’re evil, babe.”

“Or a genius,” you smirked, watching him twist the doorknob. “They’ll thank us one day.”

“If they don’t kill each other first,” he replied, holding the door open with a grin.

“Nah, either they’ll fall in love, or they both explode from the sexual tension. Just hope we don’t have to hear it” You huffed another laugh as you stepped inside your room. 

Your bedroom suite was just as dreamy as the rest of the villa. Light spilled through the open balcony doors, the sea breeze lifting the thin white curtains as they danced around the frame like silk. You moved forward slowly, drawn to the golden wash of light streaming across the floor, until your hands met the warm rail and your breath caught in your throat.

The view stretched wide before you, a sparkling coastline dotted with boats that rocked lazily in the tide, the water shifting in the late afternoon sun. Nature crept along the balcony’s stone wall in wild magenta curls, its vines knotted around baskets of fresh flowers perched between two lounge chairs draped in soft blankets.

You couldn’t speak at first, there were no words to describe how breathtaking it was. It felt like you had walked into a holiday Pinterest board.

Behind you, the room glowed gold. A wide bed waited in the centre, dressed in crisp white linen and a pale woven throw. On one side, an antique bedside table cradled a beeswax candle in a shallow brass dish and a ceramic vase of fresh roses. A tall mirror leaned elegantly in one corner with a carved wooden frame, angled toward the light.

You stepped back inside and sank down onto the bed, laying flat on your back with your hair splayed across the linen, your chest rising and falling gently as you stared up at the ceiling, coming to terms with the fact that this was real life.

The sound of Lewis’ footsteps grew closer until he reached the edge of the bed, then the warmth of his hand tickled the skin of your ankles as he removed your sandals carefully, letting them fall to the floor with a soft thud. You shifted back on the bed with a giggle, bringing your bare feet onto the mattress while he crawled onto the bed in front of you. Then, he leaned in and pressed his lips to the inside of your knee.

A small gasp left you when his breath tickled your skin. “Lew…”

“We’ve still got time before the circus gets here,” he murmured, his fingers skimming slowly up your calf, dragging warmth behind them. 

You let out a soft laugh, but it trembled slightly when he kissed higher towards your thigh this time, his lips lingering. His hands moved up along your thighs, lifting the bottom of your dress while his mouth followed. 

Despite the time you’d shared together, the comfort of living and moving through life as one, there was still something thrilling about moments like this. Lewis never tired of being the one to completely unravel you, he took pride in knowing your body, your breath, your rhythm, and he loved knowing he could still make you melt. 

The hunger in both of you grew as your eyes met, and you tugged at the shoulder of his thin shirt while he crawled up to capture your lips. You traced your fingers down the compass tattooed on his chest where his shirt was unbuttoned, his skin warm against yours, before your thumbs reached the remaining buttons. You quickly pushed each button through the holes in the linen and moved your lips with his fervently. 

He squeezed your ass with a soft growl in his throat, then brought your leg up against his hip, dropping himself beside you and pulling you up towards him. The straps of your dress tickled the skin of your upper arms as they slipped off your shoulders, the hem lifting further to reveal your underwear. You hooked a finger beneath his pearl necklace, only wanting to be closer to him.

Just as his hand reached the zip of your dress, a loud honk from outside shattered the moment like a stone through glass, and you both froze.

“You’ve gotta be kidding,” you sighed once you heard the sound of car doors and bickering outside.

Lewis exhaled sharply through his nose, head falling back against the pillow in disbelief. “Should we just pretend we’re not here?”

“As much as I would love to, our car is literally outside,” you laughed, placing a kiss to the corner of his lips.

You reluctantly pulled your leg back from his hips and slid off the bed, smoothing your dress down as you stood, and returning your straps to your shoulders. Lewis remained on the bed for a few more seconds, lying sprawled on the sheets with a look of genuine loss before he finally sat up with a dramatic sigh, beginning to fix the buttons of his shirt one by one.

As you crossed the room, you caught your reflection in the tall mirror. Your cheeks were flushed, lips slightly parted, your hair tousled and your pupils still blown wide. That glow that came from being loved by Lewis, wanted by him, never got old.

You reached up instinctively, trying to smooth your hair down to appear more presentable, while Lewis moved towards you. You stilled as he gently fixed the loose strands of your hair with soft precision, as though every little piece of you deserved his attention. A quiet giggle left you when he pressed his lips beneath your ear with a whisper, his beard tickling your skin.

“We’re not done here. You’re mine tonight.” 

Before you could get caught up in each other again, another honk came from below.

The two of you separated again, and you quickly slipped your sandals back on, still breathless, and buzzing with the remnants of his touch. 

By the time you both stepped outside, the chaos had fully begun, with Miles dragging Isabella’s huge, full suitcase towards the door, his shirt rumpled, while Isabella trailed behind in oversized sunglasses and visible disdain, muttering something under her breath that sounded like a threat.

Charles and Alexandra followed shortly after, always calm, well put-together, and the least dramatic of the group by a long shot. They were newer to trips like this, but Lewis had grown closer to Charles over the past couple of seasons, enough to extend the invitation when the idea of this holiday first came up. 

“There you are,” Isabella called out as she rushed towards you with a scandalised look on her face. “I was expecting a grand welcome at the gate, you know.”

“You’re early,” you shrugged, before pulling her into a hug. “If we’d known, we would’ve rolled out the red carpet and some champagne.”

“Would’ve had to pry you two off each other first,” Miles muttered, dragging the suitcases through the front door.

You gave him a look, then motioned between Miles and Isabella. “Like your bickering isn’t all just foreplay?”

“You’re not subtle either,” Lewis nodded smoothly with a smirk while Isabella whacked your arm.

“Yeah? See if you can survive two hours of her playlist without a fight,” Miles scoffed, catching Lewis’ hand as they dapped each other up.

“Anything is better than listening to Drake on repeat,” Isabella shot back, pushing her sunglasses back into her hair, before moving to greet Lewis as well.

“Oi! That playlist was immaculate,” Miles snapped defensively as he moved to hug you.

“Two hours of Drake deserves jail time,” she fired back. “And emotional compensation.”

Miles rolled his eyes. “Next time, I’m blocking you from the CarPlay.”

“Not if I block you first.” Isabella folded her arms with an eyebrow raised.

“You two want a room, or just the aux cord?” Lewis snickered as their bickering started.

That earned a round of laughter, even from Isabella, who tossed a look over her shoulder. “We’ll take the aux.”

As the two moved the rest of their bags inside, Charles clapped Lewis on the shoulder in greeting, their handshake turning into a brotherly hug, while Alexandra leaned in to kiss your cheeks delicately. Laughter spilled across the courtyard as bags were abandoned in a messy pile near the stairs, and Isabella hunted for an Aperol.

With greetings exchanged and the heat of the long travel day starting to settle into golden hour, Lewis caught your eye with his soft smile. The sun hung low over the sea, and inside, the kitchen was already starting to smell like woodfired pizza.

In true Lewis fashion, he had organised for a chef friend of his to put together your dinner that evening, and with this group, anything could happen.

That evening, the sky was a soft blur of peach and lavender, the sea shimmering just beyond the villa’s terrace as everyone settled into their places around the long table. Plates of pasta, bowls of olives, and half-eaten pizzas created a beautiful feast under strings of warm lights.

Lewis sat beside you, one arm draped casually across the back of your chair, fingers trailing up and down the exposed skin of your upper arm in gentle strokes, sending a familiar warmth flowing through you. Your hand rested on his knee in a way that had become second nature over the last couple of years, running your thumb back and forth comfortingly. He was listening to Charles describe a dog mishap from earlier in the week, but his fingers had found yours under the table, idly playing with your rings and tracing your knuckles. 

The fluttering in your stomach never ceased at his affectionate touches, you could spend hours sitting like this while your heart continuously swelled with adoration. You were so in love, and just when you thought you couldn’t love Lewis more, he always managed to make you fall even harder. 

The long wooden table soon became a mess of half-finished plates, crumpled napkins, and bottles of limoncello someone had cracked open too early, before dessert was served in a variety of platters across the table, including mini tiramisu and tarts, as well as an array of fruits.

At one point, Lewis reached for a slice of grilled peach from the platter in front of you, then paused and brought it toward your mouth instead. You leaned in without hesitation, your lips parting slightly, the fruit sweet and warm on your tongue. He watched you intently with a small smirk as you took a bite, loving the way the juice burst lightly onto your lips. 

A flush bloomed across your cheeks at the hunger and love in his sparkling brown eyes, while his thumb caught the stray juice on the corner of your lips. He brought it to his mouth and licked the juice off, before eating the rest of the slice like it was nothing. Your breath caught at how gorgeous he was under the dim light, watching his tongue roll across his lush lips and trying to hide the ridiculous smile crawling across your face.

“Oh my God. I did not come here to be edged by your food foreplay.” Isabella narrowed her eyes from next to you.

You laughed, still caught in the quiet heat of Lewis’ gaze. There was something about the way he looked at you, like the rest of the table had disappeared entirely, like you were the only thing anchoring him to the present moment.

You glanced down at the platter in front of you, trying to collect yourself, and reached for one of the ripe figs nestled between slices of grilled pear and peach. You used the side of your fork to split one gently, the sweet flesh giving way beneath the tines.

“I’m sorry, my bad,” you giggled, the corners of your mouth tugging upward. Turning toward Isabella, you held the fork out between you. “Your turn then. Open up, babe.”

She narrowed her eyes but leaned in anyway, accepting the bite with all the drama of a woman being terribly wronged. “Ugh, this is the most action I’ve had all year.”

“Yeah? What about Paris?” You tilted your head with a small smirk, your voice sweet yet dangerous. 

There was a beat of silence while Miles choked on his drink suddenly.

Isabella gave you a warning glare through her smile. “Absolutely not.”

“Wait, what happened in Paris?” Charles asked, brows drawn together in curiosity, clearly missing the subtext. He looked between all of you like a golden retriever trying to decode a private joke.

The look Isabella and Miles shared was brief but damning.

“Nothing,” Isabella said immediately, reaching for her wine.

“Nothing,” Miles echoed, a half-second too late.

You and Lewis didn’t miss a beat. “Everything.” You spoke in unison, like a punchline you’d rehearsed.

Charles looked betrayed. “I am so confused.”

Alex gasped, laughing softly into her glass. “Ohh. The incident.”

Charles frowned, looking from one face to another. “What incident?”

Laughter broke out again, with overlapping voices, glasses clinking against the table, plates pushed aside. Isabella threw a napkin at you half-heartedly, while Miles muttered something about your shit stirring. You felt Lewis’ eyes on you, that subtle curve of his mouth and a glint in his eye, like he was proud of the way you stirred the room just by existing.

You couldn’t hold back your smile, your cheeks warm with laughter as you leaned back against him. His hand found your thigh under the table, sliding just high enough to make your heart race.

Then, he leaned in, his soft lips brushing the shell of your ear, with his voice low enough for you alone to hear. “You look unreal tonight.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you laced your fingers with his in response.

His hand gave the gentlest squeeze. “It’s driving me fucking insane. Can’t wait to get you out of that dress.”

You turned your head toward him, your lips parting like you had something clever to say, but he just smirked with a molten heat in his eyes. His thumb grazed the inside of your palm, the touch barely there, and your whole body tuned to it, the tension stirring in your belly as your gaze flicked to his lips for a split second.

That was until Miles groaned from across the table, dramatically dropping his napkin onto his plate like it had personally offended him. “Fuck, you two are disgusting.”

Isabella chimed in, waving her glass in your direction. “You’d think after two years they’d stop acting like newlyweds.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if they already signed the papers and forgot to mention it,” Charles laughed, leaning back in his chair with an arm around Alex’s waist.

After a short second of silence, Lewis’ eyes flicked over the table, taking in the playful smirks and laughter. You caught the measured half-smile playing at his lips, sitting back as if he were the only one in the room who truly knew the secret.

“Well…What did you think we were here for?” He spoke with a voice smooth as silk yet edged with mischief.

The words fell like a stone into water, still at first, and then the ripple came.

A moment of stunned silence, followed by questions.

“Wait…”

“Are you serious?”

“Lewis, don’t mess around like that.”

“You didn’t, right?”

The air shifted, you felt it in the hush of breath, the faint rustle of linen napkins and the soft clink of a fork dropped against porcelain. All eyes were on the two of you, and yet for a moment, it was only him, the warmth of his fingers brushing your own beneath the table, the calm in his expression like he knew exactly what he was doing.

Your heart fluttered in your chest again, and your breath trembled quietly. You weren’t sure if you were just tired, or if it was the way he looked at you, as though maybe the idea wasn’t so far-fetched, maybe it had crossed his mind too. It wasn’t just the joke that set your pulse racing; it was what sat beneath it. A spark of possibility and the truth that, deep down you both wanted the same thing.

The hint of mischief in his gaze asked you to follow his lead, so you stayed quiet, just raising your brows slowly and letting your lips curve in a breathless smile, playing it up as if there was something to hide. Lewis leaned in closer, his smirk deepening like a tide pulling you under.

You glanced around at the group who watched you both with anticipation, waiting for your answer, and that did it for you. You couldn’t hold your coy smile any longer and burst into a laugh, covering your mouth with your hand as you doubled over at their expressions. 

Lewis let out a chuckle of his own, tipping his head back, and you couldn’t help but grin, your shoulders relaxing as the joke unravelled in tandem between you.

“He’s talking shit,” you added through a giggle, your eyes gleaming.

The table burst with full-bodied disbelief, shrieks of outrage and laughter blending under the soft sound of music playing from the villa’s terrace speakers. Isabella pressed a palm to her chest like she needed medical attention, while Miles leaned back in his chair in relief. Alex curled into Charles’s side with a delighted gasp.

“All men do is lie!” Isabella exclaimed, raising her glass high with a sigh before taking a long sip.

You met Lewis’ eyes again through the laughter, and even through the chaos, you both felt it. The underlying truth of where you saw your future. 

Later, the evening softened and everyone slowly made their way back to their rooms, settling in for the night.

Out on the balcony, a glow settled over the Amalfi coast like a veil, the sea below shimmering in scattered flecks of gold, foam crested waves kissing the rocks with languid devotion. The air was fresh with the scent of citrus and salt, warm against your skin, brushing along your bare arms like a caress. A gentle breeze swept around you, lifting the hem of your dress in delicate sways, as if the wind itself had grown enamoured with you too.

You stood at the railing, fingertips sitting loosely over cool stone as you sighed at the stunning view. From up there, the coastline stretched out in dreamy stillness, flickers of lanterns from distant boats, the soft shadows of lemon groves tucked into the hills. It all looked untouched, as though time had stopped for you. The moonlight made a mirror of the sea, illuminating the star dotted sky. It was a dream come true, to be so present in a place you’d seen only in photos, with the love of your life.

The door creaked open behind you, and you didn’t even need to turn. You knew Lewis’ presence the way you knew the rhythm of your own breath, a gravity that drew you to him before you even saw him. The low shuffle of his steps, relaxed, confident, and heading towards you.

“Everyone settled?” you asked, your voice soft as the wind, still facing the sea. “Any sign of Iz or Miles sneaking around?”

His arms slipped around your waist like second nature as he pulled you gently back into him, his chest a solid warmth against your spine.

“Not yet,” he murmured into your hair, his voice like a velvet hush. “But I’m giving it twenty minutes before one of them caves.”

You grinned, tilting your head back against the comfort of his shoulder. “My money’s on Miles pretending he got lost on the way to the kitchen.”

He chuckled low against your skin, his lips brushing against your temple. “You think so? Iz was already hanging around near the hallway when I came upstairs.”

Your mouth dropped open and you let out a giggle, turning your face slightly, just enough to feel his breath skim your cheek. “Should we place bets?”

“There’s no need,” he whispered with a laugh, pressing a kiss just behind your ear. “I’ve already won.”

Lewis lingered there, mouth warm against your skin, and you let yourself lean back into him, folding into the safety of his touch, his arms gathering around you like he never wanted to let go. For a long moment, you just stood there, swaying slowly with him, the two of you caught in the quiet rhythm of the night.

Then, he stepped back hesitantly, and you turned to see him lowering himself into the balcony chair behind you, his legs spread in that relaxed way he always sat, as if he owned the ground beneath him. Like nothing could shake the calm in his bones. Golden light from inside spilled across his chest, catching in the fine curve of his tattooed collarbone, the slope of his jaw, the loosened braids falling slightly over his brow from his usual bun.

“Come here.” He beckoned you towards him with a flick of his fingers.

Mere seconds later, you crossed the few steps between you and sank gently into his lap with your legs draped across his, the line of your body curling into him like you’d always belonged there. One of his arms cradled your back, and the other came to rest over your thighs, his thumb stroking comfortingly against your leg.

Through the silence, there was only your breath mingling with his. The warmth of his strong chest beneath your palm, and the steady thrum of his heartbeat. You settled into the peace of knowing you were exactly where you were meant to be.

You tilted your head, your lips caressing just under his bearded jaw. “I love you,” you whispered, letting the words fall between you like a secret only for his ears, feeling him relax further under your touch.

His hand tightened slightly over your thigh, his rings cool against your skin. “I love you more,” he replied, brushing his nose with yours. “So much more than you’ll ever know.”

You couldn’t resist the content smile that spread across your face, your thumb sliding beneath the edge of his shirt, tracing over the arrows of the compass inked on his chest. 

“I love you the most.” Your voice was barely a murmur above the hum of the sea.

“Impossible, baby.” Lewis kissed the corner of your mouth lightly.

There was a short pause, a flicker in his pupils catching light, so you pulled back enough to see his face. His eyes were already on you, tender and sincere, swimming with adoration.

“You know,” he began, tugging you closer. “I have been thinking...”

“About?” You tilted your head in question.

“About how good my last name would look on you,” he answered, searching your face for your reaction.

The words made your breath catch, an aching warmth spreading across your chest as you curled your fingers around the fabric of his shirt. It was a truth that settled against your ribs, like it had been waiting there all along.

“Yeah?” Was all you could muster breathlessly.

Lewis ran his hand slowly along your thigh, then up to your waist, anchoring himself to you and touching his forehead to yours.

“Mrs. Hamilton. My wife,” he spoke softly, as though he was testing the shape of it in his mouth. “It has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

You let it soak into your bones. His wife. His last name. Being his even more so than you already were. It felt like hearing your future spoken aloud in a voice you already trusted with your life. You turned toward him slightly, drawn in by his gravity.

The part of you that once would’ve shrunk away from something so big, so permanent, didn’t stir. Instead, you leaned in closer, tracing your fingertips along his ear and jaw, your heart open, safe, and aching in the best possible way.

“It does,” you breathed, your lips brushing as they formed the words.

The corner of his mouth lifted into a loving, calm, grin. 

“It’s a little embarrassing, but honestly? I kind of already call you that,” he admitted quietly. “In my head, all the time.”

Your throat tightened again with an ache that came from loving someone so deeply you could barely hold all of it at once. It was overwhelming how much you adored Lewis, with every atom of your existence.

You couldn’t bring yourself to speak as your breath shook, tears welling across your lower lashes, so you kissed him. You poured your love into him through your lips, letting your heart speak for you.

“You’re going to make me cry,” you said after a short moment, a breathy laugh trembling in your throat.

He smiled against your lips, and his thumb trailed along the curve of your waist as though drawing comfort right back into you. 

“Please don’t,” he murmured with a soft chuckle. “We still have unfinished business to get into.”

You giggled against his lips as he kissed you, and you melted into him, your hand drawing over the line of his exposed collarbone. You found the nape of his neck with your other hand, running your fingertips along the edge of his braided hair, brushing over a sensitive spot only you knew, and sending a shiver down his spine. 

The sea continued to sway below, a lullaby you barely heard anymore under the sound of your lips moving together. His tongue caressed yours, tasting your mouth as he angled his chin for better access. A heat brewed in your stomach, wanting only to be closer to him, to feel his skin on yours, to feel him inside you.

Then his hand dipped low, slipping beneath the hem of your dress, the pads of his fingers grazing your inner thigh slowly. His other arm still cradled you against him with no intention of letting you go. Your hips tilted instinctively, the slickness building between your legs in anticipation for his touch. 

“Keep quiet for me, baby,” he whispered as his fingers teased around the edge of your underwear. “Unless you want everyone to know exactly what I’m doing to you.”

You felt the words in your spine as they slipped through you like silk, nodding in agreement while your lips smacked together over and over. When he made contact with your wet core, your body trembled against him with a gasp, your fingers gripping the linen of his shirt. He moved in slow, tantalising motions over your clit, sending sparks through your veins as he built you up.

The world remained still in the balcony air, the moonlight bathing you both in its glow, the breeze curling Lewis’ hanging braids around your cheek, and the ocean offering its rhythm to the tempo of your breath. In his lap, under his hands, against his mouth, you melted.

You felt him smirk against your lips when you gasped too sharply, a soft moan eliciting from his movements, before his fingers stilled briefly, as if in warning.

“I said quiet,” he demanded, his mouth leaving yours to skim your jaw. “Or do you want me to stop?”

You could only whimper in need, shaking your head and clutching his shoulder tighter.

Lewis hummed in amusement, drawing you closer, his lips pressing a trail of heat down the side of your neck. “That’s what I thought.”

And so he continued, slipping his long fingers through your folds and inside. With the stars above, waves below and the night bending to your body, you let him undo you, grinding yourself onto his fingers weakly under your dress until you reached your high.

His shining doe eyes glazed with adoration as he watched you, relishing the flow of your slickness onto his hand while you quivered breathlessly, covering your mouth as you came down. You could feel heat rising off him, hard beneath you with tension in his legs as he held himself back while you recovered. Soon after, he shifted, urging you gently to your feet.

You stood in front of him, turned towards the view, your hands braced on the railing to keep yourself upright as your legs wobbled like jelly. The light breeze tousled your hair as though you were in a movie, and you felt him rise behind you, followed by the warmth of his chest as he pressed in close.

“I told you, you’re mine tonight.” His smooth voice whispered against your ear.

Lewis carefully slipped the skirt of your dress higher, ensuring you were only exposed just enough that he could slowly, discreetly, slide himself in. A gasp came from both your lips in unison, your knees weak as his length filled you. He kissed your shoulder, your spine, the back of your neck, each press of his mouth claiming you as his all over again.

Your fingers coiled against the balcony edge, thankful that the barrier kept your lower half hidden in the dark of the night as you arched yourself to allow deeper access. His hard length stroked through your folds, hitting the wall inside that sent a hot tingle through you. One of his hands came around to your front, resting against your stomach to hold you close to him. The other trailed its way over your abdomen and along your breast, until his fingers found your jaw, guiding it gently to face him.

“You look so fucking beautiful like this,” he murmured, his hungry eyes trailing over your features in the moonlight before capturing your mouth with his own.

Ecstasy coursed through you as you kissed him back fervently over your shoulder, grasping onto his forearm with one hand while you moved your hips in rhythm with his. He swallowed the moan that escaped you when his thrusts hit deeper, his own ragged breath shuddering as his mouth clasped over yours while pleasure blazed like fire across your skin.

“Shh, baby,” he warned again, a smirk in his voice. 

Your giggle was hushed as your eyes met his once more and he shook his head slightly. He looked at you as though he was staring at everything he’d ever wanted in one body, in one soul. His expression softened, his eyebrows creasing together subtly. You wondered if he felt the same things you did when you looked at him; the rush of breathlessness, the flutter that stirred low in your belly, the way the world quietened when he touched you. Did it make his chest ache the way yours did?

“I’m so fucking lucky,” he whispered, as if the words escaped him without permission.

The depth of love that lived behind his eyes made your heart swell, as if it was too much to carry, yet too precious to set down. You tilted your chin, pressing your lips to the corner of his mouth, tasting the smile he tried to hide. He kissed you again with his whole body, and you breathed his name into the night like it was the only one that ever mattered.

He didn’t rush. His movements were almost worshipful, attuned to every part of you, the way your breath caught when he touched you just right, the way your lashes fluttered when he whispered to you in his smooth voice. Every stroke was full of intention, every rock of his hips a declaration: I love you. I choose you. You’re mine.

The stars above watched you both in silence, while the sea whispered against the cliffs below, barely drowning out the wet sound between your legs. The night folded around you as Lewis made good on every silent promise, and through it all you never felt more known. Never felt more loved.

He touched you like devotion made tangible in flesh. His lips moulded over your own when you began to tremble, and his name turned to gasps, then the world narrowed to the feeling of him, only him. Only Lewis.

His own shudder came soon after, throbbing deep inside you as you clamped down over him, milking every bit until your inner thighs soaked. He held you close, your legs shaking and your voice becoming nothing more than panted breaths as you both came down from your high, while your cheeks flushed hot against his kiss.

"Let’s get you inside, Mrs. Hamilton.” He grinned, catching his breath.

You smiled, dazed and completely, utterly his. He gathered you into his arms once again, carrying you through the balcony doors and into the warmth of the waiting bed.

The next morning arrived slowly.

You woke wrapped in the sheets, your body cradled in Lewis’ warmth, your cheek resting over the slow rise and fall of his chest. His hand lay against your bare back protectively, the fingers of his other hand tangled with yours where they'd found you in the night. You could still feel him on you, around you, in that deep fullness only love could leave behind.

He stirred when you shifted, blinking awake with a sleep-warmed smile. His voice was rough from sleep, laced with affection and the remnants of the night before, when he placed his lips on your forehead. “Good morning…”

Neither of you rushed out of bed. This morning belonged to you. To the silent smiles exchanged in the soft spill of sunlight through the windows, to the kisses that lingered longer than necessary, and hands that never stopped touching each other, even for a second, as he loved you awake.

Eventually, the world called you back to reality.

By midday, the villa was alive again with voices and movement. You and Lewis emerged into the warmth of the terrace, the scent of espresso and sea salt in the air, Isabella in oversized sunglasses sipping something citrusy already, while Charles was in the middle of storytelling as the others packed up.

The plan had already been decided: a full day out on the yacht.

Now, the Amalfi sun glittered above as you stood at the edge of the dock, the sea stretching wide and impossibly blue. The sleek boat was moored just beyond, sunlight bouncing off its surface and rippling in the water below. Sounds of laughter rang through the air as everyone began to board, Isabella in her linen dress, Miles trailing after her, pretending not to look too eager. Alexandra and Charles had already found their place under the shade, settling themselves in.

Lewis threaded your fingers together as he helped you onto the deck. He wore a loose, mostly unbuttoned shirt and cream pants, his other hand slipping on a pair of sunglasses. He looked sun-kissed and at ease, like the man he was when the world wasn’t watching. 

Once you had all boarded, the yacht began to pull away from the dock, the whir of the engine rising beneath your feet. Lewis pressed a light kiss on your cheek, before tugging you toward the front of the yacht where cushions and sunshine waited.

The wind lifted your hair as the coast began to drift behind you, and the open sea stretched ahead like forever. Yet, even with the whole world sparkling around you, surrounded by breathtaking views, it was still him who outshone it all.

The boat rocked gently on the current later that afternoon, anchored off near Positano where the cliffs rose in hazy gold above the shoreline. Music drifted from the speakers in rhythmic pulses from Lewis’ perfectly curated playlist, with a rare sprinkle of his own songs here and there. The breeze carried the scent of sea salt, sunscreen, and earth from somewhere far up the hills.

Miles had already attempted a cannonball from the top deck and nearly wiped out Charles in the process. Charles emerged sputtering and muttering a swear word or two, while Alex burst into laughter so bright it echoed off the water. Isabella, meanwhile, had turned the bow into her personal photoshoot location, and you played photographer, her direction increasingly dramatic the longer the shoot went on. Your arms grew tired from the never ending change of angles, but you didn’t mind.

At one point, you stretched out on one of the sunbeds, sunglasses sliding down your nose as you sipped ice cold lemonade and let yourself drift. The music blurred into background noise, the water glinting around the boat like scattered diamonds.

Then, there was Lewis, who was in the sea with the boys, swimming laps in that unbothered, athletic way he always moved; effortlessly graceful and powerful. His braids were tied back in his usual bun, his handsome face flushed from the sun, eyes squinting slightly as he surfaced and laughed at something Charles said. Water streamed down his shoulders as he climbed back onto the deck, and you watched him in profile, relaxed, shining with the kind of calm that was only seen in private.

He looked beautiful in the sun, alive in a way that made you count your lucky stars to have been blessed by the sight of such a creation. Yet somewhere deep in your heart, a feeling you tried to ignore tugged at you.

A whisper of that familiar ache. The part of you that remembered the way the world always tried to claim pieces of him. The way women always looked at him in Monaco, and in every city you’d walked into together. The part that sometimes wondered, just for a moment, if one day, he’d wake up and realise he was too good for this, for you. The part that you tried to tuck away into the depths of your mind, that Lewis tried to protect you from as best he could.

You pulled your gaze away from him, steadying your mind, but he caught it anyway.

He turned as if he’d felt it, and met your eyes behind your sunglasses with a smile so sweet and adoring, it knocked the breath out of you. A few minutes later, he crossed the deck with a fresh top up of your drink in one hand and a small plate of food he had grilled with Miles in the other. He was still damp from the water, in only his shorts with his lean torso bare, and a towel slung over his shoulders.

“For my lady,” he grinned, crouching beside your sunbed and placing the plate down gently.

You hummed gratefully, slipping your sunglasses off and sitting up to face him. “Aww, thank you, baby.”

Lewis looked irresistibly adorable as he took a sip from your drink, pride glittering in his brown eyes. You couldn’t help but reach for his jaw, giving his beard a gentle scratch and brushing off the lingering droplets of water. His skin was warm beneath your touch, the edge of his mouth tugging upward as he leaned into it slightly, his eyes fluttering half-shut like it was the best thing he’d felt all day.

Without thinking, you leaned in for a quick kiss, just a brush of lips, but he chased it. His mouth pressed back to yours, with his hand finding your waist as the rest of the world fell away. He tasted like sea salt and sweet citrus, his lips soft on your own. For a moment, it was just you and him, your skin warmed by the sun, and your hearts synced. 

That was until a voice broke through your bubble.

“Oh my God,” Miles shouted from somewhere behind you, cupping his hands around his mouth like a megaphone. “Someone stop them before they start taking their clothes off!”

You giggled against Lewis’ lips, moving to pull away as he lifted a leisurely middle finger in Miles’ direction, and kissed you again smugly.

“Someone’s gonna make real bank from the photos,” Isabella added, dry as sand. 

Charles was hauling himself back onto the boat, his body glistening like he was in a swim shoot. “Don’t look, bébé,” he declared dramatically, shielding Alex’s eyes with one dripping hand.

“Think they’ll already be making plenty from Charles flashing everyone his baguette earlier,” Lewis snickered, settling in next to you.

“It was an accident!” Charles called out defensively, taking the towel Alex handed him.

Miles laughed, shaking his head and facing towards Isabella. “Bells and I didn’t sign up to participate in exhibitionism today.”

“If I have to see another dick today, I’m riding home on the jet ski,” Isabella muttered, taking a bite of a cucumber slice from her plate.

Miles’ eyebrows twitched with a scandalised look. “Damn, I was about to whip mine out and join the party.”

Isabella’s head snapped towards him, eyes narrowed and arms folded in irritation at his smirk. You shared a look with the others, hiding your laughs at their interaction until Lewis leaned over.

“You know, there are beds inside if you two need to go sort yourselves out.” Lewis motioned towards the interior, amusement in his tone.

Isabella’s glare sharpened, turning in your direction before flicking her hand, her cucumber slice whizzing through the air and landing with a soft thwack against Lewis’ arm, startling a laugh out of him.

“Oh damn, BDSM now too?” Miles teased, earning another scowl from Isabella, to which he raised his hands innocently.

The moment dissolved into laughter, and slowly, the yacht began to drift back toward the dock. Salt clung to your skin, your cheeks warm from the sun and the teasing. Lewis’ hand found yours again, ever the gentleman and guiding you back onto land.

By the time you reached the villa again, the sky had cooled to a lavender hush, windows glowing softly with the promise of dinner. The scent of grilled basil and roasted garlic wove through the open doors, drawing everyone in with sun-flushed skin and freshly washed hair. Conversation and banter flowed over dinner, until the beat began to shift. 

You split off with the girls, getting yourselves ready for the night with the scent of perfumes misted across skin, and sounds of makeup mixing along the bathroom counters filling the room. When you reunited with the boys, you and Lewis had unintentionally matched your outfits, earning some giggles, but the two of you credited it to just how in tune you were with each other. 

Together, the group made its way into town, and just like that, the night opened its mouth wide and invited you in.

The path to the club twisted along the cliffside, the air electric with music vibrating. Laughter bounced off limestone walls as the sea churned below, moonlight washing over waves. At the entrance was a glowing arch framed the pulse of strobe lights within, flashing pink, blue, gold.

Miles was already hyping himself up, his head nodding along with the music and a “Let’s gooo!” that turned heads. His chains bounced against his collarbone, rings catching the light as he pointed skyward to no one in particular, already syncing with the beat while the rest of you followed behind.

Inside, the cave opened into a vast chamber, its rough stone walls alive with LED pulses and cascading projections that flickered across every crevice. The bass echoed in your chest with a thud, while light ricocheted off sequins and skin. Behind the DJ, the rock arched upward like a natural amphitheatre, while out beyond the open terrace, you could just make out the dark stretch of the sea beyond the glass railings.

Lewis guided you in with a palm low on your back, staying there protectively as if he didn’t want to lose you to the rhythm already pulling people under. You made your way through the crowds, and stepped up into your section, his other hand steadying you as heels hit stone. 

Your group settled into the plush seating with messily arranged pillows, low tables already scattered with sweating buckets of ice, and lit by a tall, warm lamp. The seating was close to the bar area, which was already packed with people snagging their next rounds of shots. A barrage of scents filled the air, including alcohol, different perfumes, mixed with the earthy saltiness of the cave.

Lewis’ hand slid across your waist, his touch light yet lingering. You glanced up just as he leaned in, his lips brushing a kiss to your temple.

“You good, baby?” he asked over the thumping music, the intimacy of it brushing a blush across your cheeks. You nodded, and he dipped his head a little closer. “I’ll grab us some drinks.”

Charles was already moving toward the bar, but Lewis hesitated, eyes flicking over you one last time like he couldn’t keep his eyes off you in your outfit. 

That was until Miles thudded past, clapping him on the back. “C’mon, bro. Drinks await.”

You watched them vanish into the crowd, Miles all height and glinting chains, Charles perfectly put together as always, and Lewis with one last glance over his shoulder that made butterflies flutter low in your stomach.

Isabella pulled out her phone immediately, adjusting her hair while moving the camera around. “Girls, this lighting is perfect.”

She was already pulling you and Alex closer, rearranging limbs and cushions with the precision of a director on a fashion shoot. Alexandra smiled softly, glancing up through her lashes with her chin tilted, while you laughed and leaned into the moment, the bass buzzing through your bones.

You smiled for the first few shots, but let the next ones just happen, hair a little windblown, cheeks flushed, skin still kissed by the sun from the afternoon. Once Isabella was satisfied, the chatter amongst you continued, your face sore from laughter as she recounted her hair mishap from when the three of you were getting ready. 

You leaned in closer to the girls when Isabella brought up her dating apps, your faces lit softly by the glow of her phone screen as she swiped. The three of you commented on each card, reading through their bios and insisting Isabella swipe no on half of the options.

The energy in the club was pulsing, alive, but your little trio felt like a soft pocket of calm, until Isabella suddenly went still, looking towards the bar.

Her finger hovered mid-scroll. “Wait,” she said, voice tightening. “Who the hell is that?”

You followed her gaze, where at first, it was hard to focus. Then, you saw Lewis standing by the bar with two drinks in his hands, and a woman in front of him.

She was tall with impossibly long legs, her dress shimmering like liquid metal in the strobe, a slip that clung to her hips and exposed a long sweep of back. Her hair was pin-straight and glossy, catching the light with every turn of her head, though in the club's kaleidoscope of color, it was impossible to tell the exact shade. Her eyes were fixed on Lewis, focused, familiar. 

She was standing close, too close. Then, her fingers lightly brushed the middle of his chest as she laughed at something he said.

Your stomach twisted instantly. She didn’t look like a fan, and she didn’t carry herself like someone meeting him for the first time either. She looked like someone who knew him…intimately.

Your heart skipped once, then again, before falling into a quick, uncomfortable pace. It thudded hard in your ears, above the music, above everything. Your palms were suddenly damp and cold. Before you could think, you rose to your feet without a word.

You heard Isabella say your name, but it was distant, you were already moving towards them.

The crowd blurred around you, voices and color hazy at the edges of your vision as your focus locked in on the bar. On him, on her. Your body felt hot and cold at once, every step buzzing with adrenaline as if you were walking into something you didn’t want to see.

“I’m here with friends,” you heard him say, as your ears hyperfocused on his words and your eyes watched his mouth move.

Friends. Your breath caught in your throat, your feet halting as though suddenly glued to the ground, and time slowed. Friends? Not my girlfriend, not with my girlfriend and our friends…just friends.

It shouldn't have meant anything, but somehow it did.

The woman’s eyes sparkled in the low lights at his words, like she knew the warmth of his laugh, the sound of his breathing, the weight of his body in the dark. He didn’t move away from her touch completely, standing almost politely. The part of you that had always felt safe with him faded at the edges, doubt turning your blood cold beneath your skin.

Your heart continued to pound hard in your chest, a sick, hollow rhythm that made it difficult to breathe. The club spun around you with bright lights and body heat, but your focus tunneled in on the two of them, the rest of the world narrowing to the sight of his profile, listening to her speak as he always did with anyone.

Lewis turned just then and saw you. His eyes softened at the sight of you, a subtle lift at the corners of his mouth, as if his entire body eased the second your eyes met his. You barely noticed though, focusing on trying to steady your breathing.

Maybe she was just a friend. Maybe some model he’d done a shoot with. Maybe they were acquaintances. Maybe it wasn’t what it appeared to be.

“Hey, baby.” Lewis smiled and stepped slightly to the side, lowering one of the glasses into your hand without missing a beat.

The glass was cool against your palm, but your skin felt hot, tingling, like every cell in your body had been rewired. Your fingers tightened, the condensation slick against your skin as he slipped his arm around your waist.

You barely heard him when he introduced her as Kate, then gestured towards you, your name sounding strange in his mouth for some reason. “This is my girlfriend.”

Kate’s gaze flicked to you, cool and curious in a way that felt you were being dissected. You didn’t know if she was actually beautiful or if your brain was just telling you she must be, but in that moment, under those lights, she might as well have been a goddess.

Her lips curled into a practiced, yet warm smile. “Nice to meet you.”

Her eyes lingered on yours for a beat too long, then flicked down, almost imperceptibly, before coming back up. There was a faint lift in her eyebrows, as if you’d surprised her. As if you didn’t quite match whatever image she’d imagined.

Beneath the warmth of her expression, there was a flicker of steel, a subtle iciness in her eyes. It wasn’t hostile, it was almost possessive. As though, in some alternate version of the world, she was the one who belonged beside Lewis, and you were the stranger.

“You too,” you squeaked out, trying to smile under her intimidating gaze. 

You tried to breathe through the invisible hand closing around your lungs, but your mind was still back on that subtle look, caught in the silence between the lines, wondering how someone could seem so polite and yet feel like a warning. 

You barely heard whatever else was said after that, too caught in the thrum of your pulse and pretending you weren’t overthinking it all. Lewis stroked your waist with his thumb, but your mind was reeling as though you were watching this moment from outside your body.

You didn’t want to be this person, you promised yourself you wouldn’t be this person anymore. The one measuring her worth in half-glances and histories she hadn’t been part of, but the way she’d looked at him, looked at you. As if you didn’t belong there, as if Lewis wasn’t yours, as if you weren’t good enough. 

Blinking, you tried to pull yourself back into the present, but you couldn’t rid yourself of the tightening in your shoulders or the chaos beneath your skin. Your heart was still racing, but now you felt the sweat at the back of your neck, the tiny tremble in your fingers. Before you knew it, Lewis’ hand was gently guiding you back toward the group like nothing had happened.

The music throbbed beneath your feet like a second pulse, vibrating up through the ground and into your bones. Lights pulsed overhead in reds and violets, rippling across your group and smearing every familiar face with a haze.

You were back among your friends, with Isabella laughing in exaggerated disbelief at something Miles had said, Charles tossing back a shot with one hand and tugging Alexandra closer with the other, the air thick with heat and perfume, as well as whatever cocktail of euphoria the club pumped through the sound system, but it felt as if your body hadn’t caught up.

A small, cold, bead of sweat trickled down your spine, and you tried your best to ground yourself in reality, stretching your mouth into a weak smile and laughing along when the others did. You focused on your breaths, through your nose and out your mouth slowly.

Lewis was beside you, one arm loosely around your waist, with his body angled toward Miles in conversation. His fingers rested warm against your body, but even that felt like too much. Suddenly, your dress felt too tight, clinging in all the wrong places, suffocating your ribs. Your makeup felt thick and waxy, your skin hot beneath it. The scent of someone’s cologne nearby made your stomach turn, your mouth watering through the dryness.

You hadn’t touched your drink, you just swirled your straw around as the ice melted. Isabella leaned into you at one point, yelling over the music, but you couldn’t hear her, couldn’t even register her expression. You nodded with a small smile before she was gone again, laughing with Alexandra.

Lewis dipped his head towards you, noticing your quietness, his brow furrowed slightly.

“Hey.” His voice was low near your ear. “You okay?”

He was so close, so beautiful, and still, your chest felt tight like you couldn’t take a full breath.

“Yeah,” you replied quickly. “Just a bit warm.”

His eyes searched yours for a moment, not entirely convinced by your response. He slid his hand up your back comfortingly, and pressed a soft kiss to your head. 

“Come,” he smiled, his mouth brushing your temple. “Dance with me.”

He took your hand, pulling you into the blur of strobe and sound, where the bass thumped loud enough to push every other thought aside, but that twist of nausea sat stubbornly in your belly as your mind raced.

At first, it helped. You danced with the friends, arms in the air and your laughter real enough when Isabella spun you around. For a moment, it all felt easy again as though nothing had changed, and you hadn’t been spiralling.

Lewis was in front of you, mouthing the words to the song with a grin, his hands catching yours as he moved with you, your bodies in sync. The way he looked at you made you feel like the only girl in the room, but even as you smiled back, your chest felt tight. Because you weren’t the only girl in the room.

No matter how hard you tried to stay in the moment, you kept falling out of it, and slipping into doubt. This wasn’t new though, you’d had moments like this before. When a glance or a laugh that wasn’t meant for you made your chest tighten. The trust you’d built with Lewis was strong, he always made you feel safe and more loved than you ever could have imagined. Yet some part of you still braced for the day you would wake up from this dream life of yours.

Still, you didn’t want him to see it. Not after all the work you had done already, telling yourself that these things were inevitable, and that you were the one he loved.

You turned around in the rhythm of the music, letting your back press against Lewis’ chest. He slid his arms around your waist without hesitation, his beard tickling your cheek as he moved with you. His breath was warm against your ear, and you felt the soft rumble of him singing to you under his breath along with the song blasting through the speakers, and for a second, it worked. His hold felt safe, like it could protect you from the storm still building in your own head.

Yet, even as he kissed your shoulder and smiled at you like you were his whole world, you couldn’t help the question running through your mind. Why didn’t it feel like enough tonight?

By the time you returned home to the villa, the laughter from the club still rang faintly in your ears as you got yourself ready for bed. Everyone had drifted to their rooms in scattered pairs, the energy of the night dissolving into tired footsteps and the soft thud of bedroom doors closing. The night had grown quiet around you as you laid in your bed, the air thick with the clicking of cicadas and the slow exhale of the sea. 

Lewis’ breathing was steady behind you, his arm slung protectively over your waist and his body curved around yours instinctively. He’d fallen asleep quickly, worn out from the day’s activities. Just before he drifted off, he’d pressed a light kiss to your shoulder and mumbled a quiet, “Love you, baby.”

You’d whispered it back, because you did love him. You always had.

However, in the stillness of the room, those words echoed differently. Your mind began to slip away again, toward something you weren’t ready to look at but couldn’t stop chasing.

It was a mistake to look her up. You knew it the second you’d typed her name into your phone, knew it again when the search results loaded up across your screen, glowing skin, photoshoots and holidays. She was beautiful, of course. They always were. 

You knew you shouldn’t, but the curiosity stirred in your stomach and before you knew it, you’d searched again, this time with Lewis’ name next to hers, and there it was. Gossip pages and news articles linking the two together, with small bits of evidence. 

The quiet of the room was almost suffocating as you scrolled through the images, the glow of the screen harsh against your tired eyes. Each one felt like a carefully placed puzzle piece, painting a picture of a closeness you hadn’t known about.

There was a photo of Kate posing in an oversized hoodie, and your breath caught when you recognised it in a photo of Lewis wearing the same one. And then, another photo, this time of a male figure from behind in black hoodie and red pants, with a colourful suitcase to the left. The same suitcase Lewis was spotted with at the airport not long before. 

None of it was overt, but it all whispered the same thing. That he was there. That they were something. She wanted people to know.

The date on the photo made your heart sink in your chest. Only two months before he had invited you to Melbourne. You weren’t together then, but you’d been friends. Talking almost every day, building something soft and slow without realising how close you were to falling. He probably hadn’t thought it meant anything, but you still remembered the way your heart skipped every time his name flashed on your screen. How you’d stare at the ceiling at night wondering what it all meant, and all the while, he’d been sleeping with someone else.

Your stomach twisted again, a sour, mouthwatering nausea building up. You weren’t angry at him, but it just kept happening, over and over again. No matter where you went in the world, there always seemed to be someone there who already knew how his lips tasted and the feel of his body. Models, actresses, singers, influencers, women with stories inked into their skin, and women who looked like they were sculpted by gods. Women who’d never had to second guess whether they were enough. 

And then there was you.

You felt so…ordinary, unexceptional. Not a supermodel or some celebrity superstar. Just you. A girl who was thrust into the unforgiving hands of the world for loving a man, giving people who didn’t know you permission to judge and criticise your every move. You had done your best over the last couple of years to not let it get to you, knowing that you chose this life, but sometimes, when the noise in your head got too loud, you couldn’t help but wonder when he’d start to see it too.

It had been one of your biggest hurdles as a couple from the very beginning. The hardest part wasn’t Lewis’ past, he’d never hidden that from you, it was how deeply it seeped into the present. How it followed you around the world, online, in person, and echoed in introductions at events. How it kept you constantly bracing for a moment that might never come, the moment he might look at someone else the way he looked at you.

It wasn’t fair. You knew it wasn’t fair on him. Lewis had never given you a reason not to trust him, and yet you carried this secret ache in your chest when things like this happened, this dull fear that maybe you were the exception, not the rule. Maybe this wasn’t built to last. Maybe someone would come along who made more sense beside him, one day. Someone perfect, easier. Someone who didn’t flinch when the past showed up wearing a tight dress and a seven-figure modelling contract.

Though you weren’t angry with him, a small inkling of resentment lingered in your bones that he hadn’t told you who she was. Not at the club, not afterward, not even when he saw your entire energy change. You could almost understand it, the timing hadn’t been right, not when you were surrounded by people, noise and music. It hadn’t been the moment, but a part of you still wondered almost bitterly, if he’d ever intended to tell you at all, and you hated that. Hated that you had to learn about her from a handful of photos and tagged posts, from your own late-night digging instead of his honesty. Hated the shape of the doubt it left behind.

You blinked away the sting of tears building along your lashes, and shifted slightly beneath the sheets. Lewis stirred behind you, murmuring something unintelligible as he tightened his arm instinctively around your waist. His breath brushed the back of your neck, and for a moment, you just let yourself sink into his warmth, his presence, the devotion in the way he held you even in sleep. The kind of love that lived in muscle memory.

You knew he loved you, that was never the question, but love didn’t always silence that secret fear. Sometimes it made it louder, because now there was something to lose. You didn’t know how many more ghosts you could outrun before one of them made you stumble.

So instead, you laid still, letting your thoughts slip back into the shadows, slowing your breaths purposely to stop your tears flowing. You let the hurt settle deep in your chest like it always did, the kind that didn’t kill but never stopped aching. Even then, even with your heart breaking beneath the weight of it all, you still loved him.

You loved him more than you had ever imagined you could love anyone or anything.

Sometimes, you just didn’t know if it would ever be enough to pull you out from drowning in a sea of women who had him first. 

The next morning unfolded in pale, golden silence.

Sunlight spilled softly through the linen curtains, casting delicate shadows across the floor. The sheets around you were still warm, tousled from sleep, but the space beside you was empty. The covers were rumpled and the pillow was faintly indented from where his head had been.

You sat up slowly, your body aching with a tiredness that hadn’t come from sleep. The night had left its mark in the stiffness of your limbs, the dull ache behind your eyes, the lingering nausea curled deep in your belly as soon as you were reminded of the events of the night. You barely had time to reach for the glass on the nightstand before the door creaked open.

Lewis stepped in, already dressed in a soft shirt and grey shorts that hung low on his hips. His braids were loose and his skin was glowing even more golden than usual from the sun. He had a glass of electrolytes in one hand and a plate of breakfast in the other, eyes lighting up the moment they found yours.

“Hi,” he murmured with a soft grin, making his way towards you. “Wasn’t sure if you were still sleeping.”

You offered a small smile as he sat on the edge of the bed and handed you the drink. He kissed your forehead, lips lingering for a second longer than usual, as though he could tell something was off.

“Figured we could stay in bed today. Skip the boat, make it a lazy one.” He cupped your cheek with his large, warm hand, his thumb caressing your cheek delicately.

The ache in your chest sharpened as you met his eyes. He was so sweet, so gentle, so good, and you wished you could accept it. You wished you could let him curl up with you and cuddle the day away in your little bubble together like you sometimes did, but you couldn’t. Not with your stomach still stirring with a feeling of disappointment, your mind still replaying the night before in sick, looping flashes. 

You just wanted to be alone, to wallow in your pain just a little longer without him witnessing it. You knew it would break his heart, especially after all the times you’d discussed these feelings in the past, all the ache you had seen in his eyes, and how much love he poured into you.

“I think I just need to sleep,” you sighed, lowering your gaze down to your glass. “You should go, I know you were really excited for today. I’ll join you later.”

You felt the pause in him, his eyebrows furrowing as he tried to read between the lines. He shifted slightly on the edge of the bed, dropping his hand to rest against your shin over the covers.

“What’s wrong, baby?” He pushed gently, dipping his head slightly to meet your eyes again. 

“I’m just tired, Lew. A little too much time in the sun, I think,” you replied, reaching up to move one of his braids back and running your thumb along his beard.

“You sure?” he asked, placing his hand over yours. “I don’t mind staying in. We could put on a movie or just sleep, we don’t have to do anything.”

“I know,” you nodded, your voice soft. “But I want you to go, I want you to enjoy today. Please, baby.”

The word please did something to him. He squeezed your hand lightly in understanding.

“Alright.” He gave a slow nod and made a small attempt to lighten the mood. “I’ll bring you back something. How about that gelato you liked yesterday?”

You smiled faintly. “That’d be nice.”

He leaned in, brushing his warm lips to yours, before rising. “I’ll check in though, okay? Text me if you need anything.”

Soon after, he collected his things and left almost hesitantly, with another kiss to your lips. The door closed behind him with a soft click, and you let your head fall back onto the pillow, the sound of his footsteps growing quieter down the hall. 

Your throat was still tight when you turned over, the ache in your chest lingering as the memories of last night, and every other stunning ex of his you had run into flickered through your mind. You felt so small, insignificant, imperfect. 

You laid for a while in the bed, unmoving, like if you held yourself still enough, the ache would pass, the sickly feeling in your stomach, the heat in your face, and the strain in your eyes. You placed a hand on his side of the bed, the scent of him lingering in the sheets.

You hated how relieved you were that Lewis had gone. Hated that you were the one who asked him to leave. Hated the part of you that was already missing him, the part that knew he would’ve stayed if you’d just let him.

You inhaled a shaky breath, like you could reset something inside of you. The morning light slanted through the thin curtains, casting long lines across the room. You sat up at the edge of the bed after a while, your hands resting on your knees, your shoulders curved in like your body was folding to protect yourself.

You didn’t want to cry, but now that he was gone, you could, so you let the tears flow down your cheeks. You knew if he’d seen you like this, it would’ve broken him. You’d promised, not just him, but yourself, that you wouldn’t let the past get in the way of what you had now. Not anymore.

But the images wouldn’t leave you.

Her hand on his chest.

That familiarity in her eyes.

The way she’d looked at you, polite, yet razor-sharp underneath.

The stories you’d found. Her in his hoodie. The suitcase. Her watching his race with that smug little caption.

It wasn’t jealousy, or distrust. It was fear. The same fear that lived in the deepest part of you, the one that whispered: You’re not like them. You’ll never be enough for a man like him.

You pushed yourself off the bed, swallowing down the knot in your throat. The tiles were cool beneath your feet as you made your way to the bathroom. You slipped your clothes off slowly. Your hair was messy and your eyes were puffy, exhausted from the events of yesterday and the lack of sleep. You didn’t look like someone who belonged in Lewis Hamilton’s world, not when you stood next to a model like her.

The water in the shower was scalding, but it didn’t matter. You needed it, you needed to feel something else, to wash the night off your skin.

You let it pour over you, steam floating in thick waves around the marble, your fingers braced against the wall as you counted each breath, willing the spiraling thoughts to settle. Willing your heartbeat to slow, but even as the fog cleared from the mirror and the water cooled, that deep ache still lingered.

Eventually, you stepped out, wrapping yourself in one of Lewis’ towels, not the thick villa ones, but the soft, dark one he brought from home. It smelled like him, that divine woody and sweet fragrance he always wore.

You padded back into the bedroom, your hair dripping, and your body heavy. You didn’t feel ready to face the others, but you told yourself maybe you’d lie back down, and rest for just a bit, let the world go quiet again, before you rejoined them.

You crossed to the closet, sliding the door open. Lewis’ side was meticulous as always, crisp shirts, oversized pants, a couple of his hoodies hanging near the top. The navy one you liked and the cream one you always stole. 

It was a little stupid, maybe even petty, but you wanted to wear one right now. After last night, after her, something in you bristled with the urge to wear something of his, to wrap yourself in it like a claim. You weren’t proud of it, but the feeling was there all the same, nagging and almost childish. You reached up for the navy, fingers brushing soft fleece, and pulled it off the hanger.

As you stepped back, your hand knocked against something in the pocket of a heavier jacket beside it. The one you secretly hated when he’d packed it. Lewis always managed to make even the ugliest clothes look incredible though, so you had trusted his taste, despite the internal cringe you felt knowing he might wear it out at some point on the trip. It was heavier than you remembered, oddly weighted.

You winced at the contact, rubbing your knuckles where they’d hit the stiff outer fabric. The impact had been soft, but the thing inside wasn’t. It was hard and sharp-edged. Your brows drew together in curiosity.

You hesitated at first, before slipping your hand into the inner pocket. Your fingers closed around something small and square, brushing along velvet. You pulled it out slowly. A ring box.

For a moment, your breath caught, but then your mind reasoned, half-heartedly. It was probably just one of his. He wore rings all the time, especially those insanely expensive diamonds and gold chunky Cartier rings. He was the kind of man who would carry one around just in case.

Still, your thumb hovered over the edge, your curiosity getting the better of you.

The hinge gave with a soft click, then, everything tilted. A thin gasp caught in your throat.

It wasn’t one of his. Even before you opened it, your heart knew. 

The ring glittered in the sunlight, with the biggest and most elegant diamond at the center, shaped just how you’d always loved. The same style you’d once shown Isabella on your phone one night in Monaco, barely even serious.The band was timeless, the perfect thickness that was too exact to be coincidence.

A tremor moved through you, as you lifted the ring gently from its cushion, fingers shaking. There, just beneath the curve of the band, was an engraving so small you almost missed it. His initials and yours. 

You sat down on the edge of the bed like your body had forgotten how to hold its own weight, the world spinning around you. The box sat open in your hands, soft against your palm, your heart thudding in a strange, muted rhythm.

A sound caught in your throat, a small sob. Your fingers pressed over your mouth, as if you could push it all back down, the guilt, the panic, the sudden ache of knowing you had doubted him.

You’d let your own insecurities tear open the part of your heart that always felt safe with Lewis. When Kate had looked at you the way she had, you let it worm into you, that old fear. The fear of not being good enough, not perfect enough.

You’d spent all night and all morning spiraling, convinced he was slipping away. That you weren’t enough. That someone else, polished, glamorous and deserving, would always eclipse you in his world.

But this? This was not the act of a man unsure, of a man who still had a foot in the past.

This was him choosing you, planning for you. Knowing what he wanted.

Your lips parted, but no breath came. Tears blurred your vision, shame rising fast and sharp in your throat. You wiped at your cheeks but more came, unstoppable now.

You thought of how you’d pulled away this morning. Of how he’d touched your face so gently and you could barely look him in the eye.

He loved you.

He was going to ask you to be his forever.

He was going to ask you to marry him.

You didn’t know how long you sat there, staring at the ring, your face soaked with tears and imagining how you might have felt when he surprised you with it. You wondered when he was planning to do it, how long he’d been holding onto it, if what he’d said that night on the balcony was him gauging your thoughts on it. It wasn’t as though you had never discussed the idea, you had always just brushed it off as something far off until he was done with racing. You had no idea it would happen for you so soon.

You were so caught up in your thoughts, that you didn’t hear the footsteps at first.

You didn’t register the soft creak of the door, until his voice cut through the quiet.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Taglist: @sltwins @ernegren @sher-ni @skzvibes-blog @rageshots @esw1012🤍🤍

[knowinglewis]

Clarity (Fading Lines Epilogue)

Part One/Part Two

Fading Lines Masterlist

Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Summary: Two years later, with your love stronger than ever, you and Lewis are forced to confront what's still unresolved between you, while on a summer getaway with your friends.

Word Count: 13,632

Warnings: FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF. Lewis being the sweetest in the world. Smut. Jealousy, anxiety, overthinking, insecurity. No use of Y/N.

A/N: Sooo I have no self control, I loved writing this SO insanely much and my apologies for the delay in getting this posted, as I was sick and work has been super busy! Please let me know your thoughts on it or if there's anything you'd like to see next! 🤍

The engine gave a soft hum as the car rolled to a stop, tyres crunching gently over loose gravel. Afternoon sunlight spilled lazily through a canopy of trees overhead, flickering golden over a winding stone path that stretched up between old walls and flowering vines. The scent of lemon blossoms and rosemary drifted thick on the breeze, carried up from the coastline that shimmered below. 

You stepped out first, the door closing softly behind you. A breeze kissed your skin as you turned in a slow circle, taking in the view. The villa stood tall with aged shutters and ivy-cloaked balconies, perched elegantly to catch a perfect view of the Amalfi Coast. Bougainvillea spilled down in an assortment of pinks and reds, the petals scattered like confetti along the edges of the driveway.

It had been two years.

Two years since Silverstone. Since you and Lewis had officially stepped into the public eye as a couple.

In that time, the two of you had built something real, weaving your lives together through the places you visited and the moments in between. You hadn’t fully settled into his place in Monaco, but the remnants of you between travels were enough to leave your mark. You carved out a home with Lewis wherever you happened to be. Through it all, you had only grown stronger as a couple, somehow more in love than ever as each day passed.

You’d adopted another dog, a small, sweet eyed rescue puppy that kept Roscoe company when you couldn’t be with him. You’d also taken a career break a few months ago, carving out time for yourself to pursue your own passions, making your own mark on the world. The break also allowed more time for vacations like this, where you could spend the off season anywhere in the world with the love of your life.

Lewis had won his eighth championship that year, a whirlwind of a racing season, with history made and pressure heavier than ever. Headlines and endless speculation had followed: about Lewis’ possibly retiring, about a ring, about whether the two of you were secretly married already. Your Silverstone kiss had become iconic, featured in many posts, edits, and dissected in many social media threads. 

You’d laughed about some of it and brushed off the rest, but it wasn’t always easy.

The two of you had weathered storms of media noise, private doubts, moments of distance. Yet somehow, through all of it, you’d come out stronger. Still always choosing each other.

Even now, as the breeze slipped through your dress and the scent of citrus clung to your skin, you could feel it, the weight and wonder of everything you’d built. It wasn’t perfect, but it still felt like a dream each and every day.

“What do you think?” Lewis’ voice approached you as his car door closed.

The villa was beautiful. Picturesque in a way that felt like you were in a movie. You could already imagine the days stretching out before you here, soft mornings, sun-warmed evenings, and sharing a drink on the terrace. 

“It’s even more beautiful in person,” you smiled, your voice barely louder than a breath as you drank in the view. “You really outdid yourself.”

Behind you, Lewis rounded the car with his sunglasses perched atop his head, the soft sea breeze ruffling the hem of his shirt, as he slid his hand over your waist.

“I have good taste,” he murmured, dipping closer until his lips brushed the top of your temple. “That includes you.”

A warmth bloomed in your chest, unfolding like the petals along the trellis. You leaned into his shoulder for a moment, allowing yourself to melt into the certainty he carried so effortlessly. The glow of the sun with the light breeze in the air calmed you, your muscles relaxing, knowing that you both needed this holiday.

Lewis retrieved your suitcase and his own, before moving towards the entrance. You followed him up the stone steps toward the villa’s arched front door, your gaze trailing over the building’s timeless details, the carved shutters, the aged brick, and the colourful garden reaching towards the sun.

Inside, the villa opened up into cool shade and golden light, curved ceilings, terracotta floors, an open-plan kitchen that smelled faintly of rosemary. The walls were painted in soft, creamy hues, and sun filtered through linen curtains, dancing across the tiled floor.

You set your handbag down on the bench by the stairs and let your fingers brush along the worn wooden edge of the banister, still catching your breath from how effortlessly beautiful everything was.

“Do you think they’ve killed each other yet?” You asked, leaning close to him as you ascended the first few stairs together.

He didn’t need to ask who you meant when he exhaled a quiet laugh and hummed in thought. “Or they’ve stopped for a quickie along the way.”

“How long has this been going on for? Like five months?” You snorted softly.

“Yup, since Paris,” he confirmed with a slight grin. “Still claiming they were just drunk though.”

“And now they’re acting like they can’t stand to be in the same room,” You rolled your eyes as the two of you reached the landing. “Did you see Iz’s face when I told her she’d be carpooling with him though?”

“Priceless,” Lewis chuckled, running his hand down to your hip to tug you closer. “You’re evil, babe.”

“Or a genius,” you smirked, watching him twist the doorknob. “They’ll thank us one day.”

“If they don’t kill each other first,” he replied, holding the door open with a grin.

“Nah, either they’ll fall in love, or they both explode from the sexual tension. Just hope we don’t have to hear it” You huffed another laugh as you stepped inside your room. 

Your bedroom suite was just as dreamy as the rest of the villa. Light spilled through the open balcony doors, the sea breeze lifting the thin white curtains as they danced around the frame like silk. You moved forward slowly, drawn to the golden wash of light streaming across the floor, until your hands met the warm rail and your breath caught in your throat.

The view stretched wide before you, a sparkling coastline dotted with boats that rocked lazily in the tide, the water shifting in the late afternoon sun. Nature crept along the balcony’s stone wall in wild magenta curls, its vines knotted around baskets of fresh flowers perched between two lounge chairs draped in soft blankets.

You couldn’t speak at first, there were no words to describe how breathtaking it was. It felt like you had walked into a holiday Pinterest board.

Behind you, the room glowed gold. A wide bed waited in the centre, dressed in crisp white linen and a pale woven throw. On one side, an antique bedside table cradled a beeswax candle in a shallow brass dish and a ceramic vase of fresh roses. A tall mirror leaned elegantly in one corner with a carved wooden frame, angled toward the light.

You stepped back inside and sank down onto the bed, laying flat on your back with your hair splayed across the linen, your chest rising and falling gently as you stared up at the ceiling, coming to terms with the fact that this was real life.

The sound of Lewis’ footsteps grew closer until he reached the edge of the bed, then the warmth of his hand tickled the skin of your ankles as he removed your sandals carefully, letting them fall to the floor with a soft thud. You shifted back on the bed with a giggle, bringing your bare feet onto the mattress while he crawled onto the bed in front of you. Then, he leaned in and pressed his lips to the inside of your knee.

A small gasp left you when his breath tickled your skin. “Lew…”

“We’ve still got time before the circus gets here,” he murmured, his fingers skimming slowly up your calf, dragging warmth behind them. 

You let out a soft laugh, but it trembled slightly when he kissed higher towards your thigh this time, his lips lingering. His hands moved up along your thighs, lifting the bottom of your dress while his mouth followed. 

Despite the time you’d shared together, the comfort of living and moving through life as one, there was still something thrilling about moments like this. Lewis never tired of being the one to completely unravel you, he took pride in knowing your body, your breath, your rhythm, and he loved knowing he could still make you melt. 

The hunger in both of you grew as your eyes met, and you tugged at the shoulder of his thin shirt while he crawled up to capture your lips. You traced your fingers down the compass tattooed on his chest where his shirt was unbuttoned, his skin warm against yours, before your thumbs reached the remaining buttons. You quickly pushed each button through the holes in the linen and moved your lips with his fervently. 

He squeezed your ass with a soft growl in his throat, then brought your leg up against his hip, dropping himself beside you and pulling you up towards him. The straps of your dress tickled the skin of your upper arms as they slipped off your shoulders, the hem lifting further to reveal your underwear. You hooked a finger beneath his pearl necklace, only wanting to be closer to him.

Just as his hand reached the zip of your dress, a loud honk from outside shattered the moment like a stone through glass, and you both froze.

“You’ve gotta be kidding,” you sighed once you heard the sound of car doors and bickering outside.

Lewis exhaled sharply through his nose, head falling back against the pillow in disbelief. “Should we just pretend we’re not here?”

“As much as I would love to, our car is literally outside,” you laughed, placing a kiss to the corner of his lips.

You reluctantly pulled your leg back from his hips and slid off the bed, smoothing your dress down as you stood, and returning your straps to your shoulders. Lewis remained on the bed for a few more seconds, lying sprawled on the sheets with a look of genuine loss before he finally sat up with a dramatic sigh, beginning to fix the buttons of his shirt one by one.

As you crossed the room, you caught your reflection in the tall mirror. Your cheeks were flushed, lips slightly parted, your hair tousled and your pupils still blown wide. That glow that came from being loved by Lewis, wanted by him, never got old.

You reached up instinctively, trying to smooth your hair down to appear more presentable, while Lewis moved towards you. You stilled as he gently fixed the loose strands of your hair with soft precision, as though every little piece of you deserved his attention. A quiet giggle left you when he pressed his lips beneath your ear with a whisper, his beard tickling your skin.

“We’re not done here. You’re mine tonight.” 

Before you could get caught up in each other again, another honk came from below.

The two of you separated again, and you quickly slipped your sandals back on, still breathless, and buzzing with the remnants of his touch. 

By the time you both stepped outside, the chaos had fully begun, with Miles dragging Isabella’s huge, full suitcase towards the door, his shirt rumpled, while Isabella trailed behind in oversized sunglasses and visible disdain, muttering something under her breath that sounded like a threat.

Charles and Alexandra followed shortly after, always calm, well put-together, and the least dramatic of the group by a long shot. They were newer to trips like this, but Lewis had grown closer to Charles over the past couple of seasons, enough to extend the invitation when the idea of this holiday first came up. 

“There you are,” Isabella called out as she rushed towards you with a scandalised look on her face. “I was expecting a grand welcome at the gate, you know.”

“You’re early,” you shrugged, before pulling her into a hug. “If we’d known, we would’ve rolled out the red carpet and some champagne.”

“Would’ve had to pry you two off each other first,” Miles muttered, dragging the suitcases through the front door.

You gave him a look, then motioned between Miles and Isabella. “Like your bickering isn’t all just foreplay?”

“You’re not subtle either,” Lewis nodded smoothly with a smirk while Isabella whacked your arm.

“Yeah? See if you can survive two hours of her playlist without a fight,” Miles scoffed, catching Lewis’ hand as they dapped each other up.

“Anything is better than listening to Drake on repeat,” Isabella shot back, pushing her sunglasses back into her hair, before moving to greet Lewis as well.

“Oi! That playlist was immaculate,” Miles snapped defensively as he moved to hug you.

“Two hours of Drake deserves jail time,” she fired back. “And emotional compensation.”

Miles rolled his eyes. “Next time, I’m blocking you from the CarPlay.”

“Not if I block you first.” Isabella folded her arms with an eyebrow raised.

“You two want a room, or just the aux cord?” Lewis snickered as their bickering started.

That earned a round of laughter, even from Isabella, who tossed a look over her shoulder. “We’ll take the aux.”

As the two moved the rest of their bags inside, Charles clapped Lewis on the shoulder in greeting, their handshake turning into a brotherly hug, while Alexandra leaned in to kiss your cheeks delicately. Laughter spilled across the courtyard as bags were abandoned in a messy pile near the stairs, and Isabella hunted for an Aperol.

With greetings exchanged and the heat of the long travel day starting to settle into golden hour, Lewis caught your eye with his soft smile. The sun hung low over the sea, and inside, the kitchen was already starting to smell like woodfired pizza.

In true Lewis fashion, he had organised for a chef friend of his to put together your dinner that evening, and with this group, anything could happen.

That evening, the sky was a soft blur of peach and lavender, the sea shimmering just beyond the villa’s terrace as everyone settled into their places around the long table. Plates of pasta, bowls of olives, and half-eaten pizzas created a beautiful feast under strings of warm lights.

Lewis sat beside you, one arm draped casually across the back of your chair, fingers trailing up and down the exposed skin of your upper arm in gentle strokes, sending a familiar warmth flowing through you. Your hand rested on his knee in a way that had become second nature over the last couple of years, running your thumb back and forth comfortingly. He was listening to Charles describe a dog mishap from earlier in the week, but his fingers had found yours under the table, idly playing with your rings and tracing your knuckles. 

The fluttering in your stomach never ceased at his affectionate touches, you could spend hours sitting like this while your heart continuously swelled with adoration. You were so in love, and just when you thought you couldn’t love Lewis more, he always managed to make you fall even harder. 

The long wooden table soon became a mess of half-finished plates, crumpled napkins, and bottles of limoncello someone had cracked open too early, before dessert was served in a variety of platters across the table, including mini tiramisu and tarts, as well as an array of fruits.

At one point, Lewis reached for a slice of grilled peach from the platter in front of you, then paused and brought it toward your mouth instead. You leaned in without hesitation, your lips parting slightly, the fruit sweet and warm on your tongue. He watched you intently with a small smirk as you took a bite, loving the way the juice burst lightly onto your lips. 

A flush bloomed across your cheeks at the hunger and love in his sparkling brown eyes, while his thumb caught the stray juice on the corner of your lips. He brought it to his mouth and licked the juice off, before eating the rest of the slice like it was nothing. Your breath caught at how gorgeous he was under the dim light, watching his tongue roll across his lush lips and trying to hide the ridiculous smile crawling across your face.

“Oh my God. I did not come here to be edged by your food foreplay.” Isabella narrowed her eyes from next to you.

You laughed, still caught in the quiet heat of Lewis’ gaze. There was something about the way he looked at you, like the rest of the table had disappeared entirely, like you were the only thing anchoring him to the present moment.

You glanced down at the platter in front of you, trying to collect yourself, and reached for one of the ripe figs nestled between slices of grilled pear and peach. You used the side of your fork to split one gently, the sweet flesh giving way beneath the tines.

“I’m sorry, my bad,” you giggled, the corners of your mouth tugging upward. Turning toward Isabella, you held the fork out between you. “Your turn then. Open up, babe.”

She narrowed her eyes but leaned in anyway, accepting the bite with all the drama of a woman being terribly wronged. “Ugh, this is the most action I’ve had all year.”

“Yeah? What about Paris?” You tilted your head with a small smirk, your voice sweet yet dangerous. 

There was a beat of silence while Miles choked on his drink suddenly.

Isabella gave you a warning glare through her smile. “Absolutely not.”

“Wait, what happened in Paris?” Charles asked, brows drawn together in curiosity, clearly missing the subtext. He looked between all of you like a golden retriever trying to decode a private joke.

The look Isabella and Miles shared was brief but damning.

“Nothing,” Isabella said immediately, reaching for her wine.

“Nothing,” Miles echoed, a half-second too late.

You and Lewis didn’t miss a beat. “Everything.” You spoke in unison, like a punchline you’d rehearsed.

Charles looked betrayed. “I am so confused.”

Alex gasped, laughing softly into her glass. “Ohh. The incident.”

Charles frowned, looking from one face to another. “What incident?”

Laughter broke out again, with overlapping voices, glasses clinking against the table, plates pushed aside. Isabella threw a napkin at you half-heartedly, while Miles muttered something about your shit stirring. You felt Lewis’ eyes on you, that subtle curve of his mouth and a glint in his eye, like he was proud of the way you stirred the room just by existing.

You couldn’t hold back your smile, your cheeks warm with laughter as you leaned back against him. His hand found your thigh under the table, sliding just high enough to make your heart race.

Then, he leaned in, his soft lips brushing the shell of your ear, with his voice low enough for you alone to hear. “You look unreal tonight.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you laced your fingers with his in response.

His hand gave the gentlest squeeze. “It’s driving me fucking insane. Can’t wait to get you out of that dress.”

You turned your head toward him, your lips parting like you had something clever to say, but he just smirked with a molten heat in his eyes. His thumb grazed the inside of your palm, the touch barely there, and your whole body tuned to it, the tension stirring in your belly as your gaze flicked to his lips for a split second.

That was until Miles groaned from across the table, dramatically dropping his napkin onto his plate like it had personally offended him. “Fuck, you two are disgusting.”

Isabella chimed in, waving her glass in your direction. “You’d think after two years they’d stop acting like newlyweds.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if they already signed the papers and forgot to mention it,” Charles laughed, leaning back in his chair with an arm around Alex’s waist.

After a short second of silence, Lewis’ eyes flicked over the table, taking in the playful smirks and laughter. You caught the measured half-smile playing at his lips, sitting back as if he were the only one in the room who truly knew the secret.

“Well…What did you think we were here for?” He spoke with a voice smooth as silk yet edged with mischief.

The words fell like a stone into water, still at first, and then the ripple came.

A moment of stunned silence, followed by questions.

“Wait…”

“Are you serious?”

“Lewis, don’t mess around like that.”

“You didn’t, right?”

The air shifted, you felt it in the hush of breath, the faint rustle of linen napkins and the soft clink of a fork dropped against porcelain. All eyes were on the two of you, and yet for a moment, it was only him, the warmth of his fingers brushing your own beneath the table, the calm in his expression like he knew exactly what he was doing.

Your heart fluttered in your chest again, and your breath trembled quietly. You weren’t sure if you were just tired, or if it was the way he looked at you, as though maybe the idea wasn’t so far-fetched, maybe it had crossed his mind too. It wasn’t just the joke that set your pulse racing; it was what sat beneath it. A spark of possibility and the truth that, deep down you both wanted the same thing.

The hint of mischief in his gaze asked you to follow his lead, so you stayed quiet, just raising your brows slowly and letting your lips curve in a breathless smile, playing it up as if there was something to hide. Lewis leaned in closer, his smirk deepening like a tide pulling you under.

You glanced around at the group who watched you both with anticipation, waiting for your answer, and that did it for you. You couldn’t hold your coy smile any longer and burst into a laugh, covering your mouth with your hand as you doubled over at their expressions. 

Lewis let out a chuckle of his own, tipping his head back, and you couldn’t help but grin, your shoulders relaxing as the joke unravelled in tandem between you.

“He’s talking shit,” you added through a giggle, your eyes gleaming.

The table burst with full-bodied disbelief, shrieks of outrage and laughter blending under the soft sound of music playing from the villa’s terrace speakers. Isabella pressed a palm to her chest like she needed medical attention, while Miles leaned back in his chair in relief. Alex curled into Charles’s side with a delighted gasp.

“All men do is lie!” Isabella exclaimed, raising her glass high with a sigh before taking a long sip.

You met Lewis’ eyes again through the laughter, and even through the chaos, you both felt it. The underlying truth of where you saw your future. 

Later, the evening softened and everyone slowly made their way back to their rooms, settling in for the night.

Out on the balcony, a glow settled over the Amalfi coast like a veil, the sea below shimmering in scattered flecks of gold, foam crested waves kissing the rocks with languid devotion. The air was fresh with the scent of citrus and salt, warm against your skin, brushing along your bare arms like a caress. A gentle breeze swept around you, lifting the hem of your dress in delicate sways, as if the wind itself had grown enamoured with you too.

You stood at the railing, fingertips sitting loosely over cool stone as you sighed at the stunning view. From up there, the coastline stretched out in dreamy stillness, flickers of lanterns from distant boats, the soft shadows of lemon groves tucked into the hills. It all looked untouched, as though time had stopped for you. The moonlight made a mirror of the sea, illuminating the star dotted sky. It was a dream come true, to be so present in a place you’d seen only in photos, with the love of your life.

The door creaked open behind you, and you didn’t even need to turn. You knew Lewis’ presence the way you knew the rhythm of your own breath, a gravity that drew you to him before you even saw him. The low shuffle of his steps, relaxed, confident, and heading towards you.

“Everyone settled?” you asked, your voice soft as the wind, still facing the sea. “Any sign of Iz or Miles sneaking around?”

His arms slipped around your waist like second nature as he pulled you gently back into him, his chest a solid warmth against your spine.

“Not yet,” he murmured into your hair, his voice like a velvet hush. “But I’m giving it twenty minutes before one of them caves.”

You grinned, tilting your head back against the comfort of his shoulder. “My money’s on Miles pretending he got lost on the way to the kitchen.”

He chuckled low against your skin, his lips brushing against your temple. “You think so? Iz was already hanging around near the hallway when I came upstairs.”

Your mouth dropped open and you let out a giggle, turning your face slightly, just enough to feel his breath skim your cheek. “Should we place bets?”

“There’s no need,” he whispered with a laugh, pressing a kiss just behind your ear. “I’ve already won.”

Lewis lingered there, mouth warm against your skin, and you let yourself lean back into him, folding into the safety of his touch, his arms gathering around you like he never wanted to let go. For a long moment, you just stood there, swaying slowly with him, the two of you caught in the quiet rhythm of the night.

Then, he stepped back hesitantly, and you turned to see him lowering himself into the balcony chair behind you, his legs spread in that relaxed way he always sat, as if he owned the ground beneath him. Like nothing could shake the calm in his bones. Golden light from inside spilled across his chest, catching in the fine curve of his tattooed collarbone, the slope of his jaw, the loosened braids falling slightly over his brow from his usual bun.

“Come here.” He beckoned you towards him with a flick of his fingers.

Mere seconds later, you crossed the few steps between you and sank gently into his lap with your legs draped across his, the line of your body curling into him like you’d always belonged there. One of his arms cradled your back, and the other came to rest over your thighs, his thumb stroking comfortingly against your leg.

Through the silence, there was only your breath mingling with his. The warmth of his strong chest beneath your palm, and the steady thrum of his heartbeat. You settled into the peace of knowing you were exactly where you were meant to be.

You tilted your head, your lips caressing just under his bearded jaw. “I love you,” you whispered, letting the words fall between you like a secret only for his ears, feeling him relax further under your touch.

His hand tightened slightly over your thigh, his rings cool against your skin. “I love you more,” he replied, brushing his nose with yours. “So much more than you’ll ever know.”

You couldn’t resist the content smile that spread across your face, your thumb sliding beneath the edge of his shirt, tracing over the arrows of the compass inked on his chest. 

“I love you the most.” Your voice was barely a murmur above the hum of the sea.

“Impossible, baby.” Lewis kissed the corner of your mouth lightly.

There was a short pause, a flicker in his pupils catching light, so you pulled back enough to see his face. His eyes were already on you, tender and sincere, swimming with adoration.

“You know,” he began, tugging you closer. “I have been thinking...”

“About?” You tilted your head in question.

“About how good my last name would look on you,” he answered, searching your face for your reaction.

The words made your breath catch, an aching warmth spreading across your chest as you curled your fingers around the fabric of his shirt. It was a truth that settled against your ribs, like it had been waiting there all along.

“Yeah?” Was all you could muster breathlessly.

Lewis ran his hand slowly along your thigh, then up to your waist, anchoring himself to you and touching his forehead to yours.

“Mrs. Hamilton. My wife,” he spoke softly, as though he was testing the shape of it in his mouth. “It has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

You let it soak into your bones. His wife. His last name. Being his even more so than you already were. It felt like hearing your future spoken aloud in a voice you already trusted with your life. You turned toward him slightly, drawn in by his gravity.

The part of you that once would’ve shrunk away from something so big, so permanent, didn’t stir. Instead, you leaned in closer, tracing your fingertips along his ear and jaw, your heart open, safe, and aching in the best possible way.

“It does,” you breathed, your lips brushing as they formed the words.

The corner of his mouth lifted into a loving, calm, grin. 

“It’s a little embarrassing, but honestly? I kind of already call you that,” he admitted quietly. “In my head, all the time.”

Your throat tightened again with an ache that came from loving someone so deeply you could barely hold all of it at once. It was overwhelming how much you adored Lewis, with every atom of your existence.

You couldn’t bring yourself to speak as your breath shook, tears welling across your lower lashes, so you kissed him. You poured your love into him through your lips, letting your heart speak for you.

“You’re going to make me cry,” you said after a short moment, a breathy laugh trembling in your throat.

He smiled against your lips, and his thumb trailed along the curve of your waist as though drawing comfort right back into you. 

“Please don’t,” he murmured with a soft chuckle. “We still have unfinished business to get into.”

You giggled against his lips as he kissed you, and you melted into him, your hand drawing over the line of his exposed collarbone. You found the nape of his neck with your other hand, running your fingertips along the edge of his braided hair, brushing over a sensitive spot only you knew, and sending a shiver down his spine. 

The sea continued to sway below, a lullaby you barely heard anymore under the sound of your lips moving together. His tongue caressed yours, tasting your mouth as he angled his chin for better access. A heat brewed in your stomach, wanting only to be closer to him, to feel his skin on yours, to feel him inside you.

Then his hand dipped low, slipping beneath the hem of your dress, the pads of his fingers grazing your inner thigh slowly. His other arm still cradled you against him with no intention of letting you go. Your hips tilted instinctively, the slickness building between your legs in anticipation for his touch. 

“Keep quiet for me, baby,” he whispered as his fingers teased around the edge of your underwear. “Unless you want everyone to know exactly what I’m doing to you.”

You felt the words in your spine as they slipped through you like silk, nodding in agreement while your lips smacked together over and over. When he made contact with your wet core, your body trembled against him with a gasp, your fingers gripping the linen of his shirt. He moved in slow, tantalising motions over your clit, sending sparks through your veins as he built you up.

The world remained still in the balcony air, the moonlight bathing you both in its glow, the breeze curling Lewis’ hanging braids around your cheek, and the ocean offering its rhythm to the tempo of your breath. In his lap, under his hands, against his mouth, you melted.

You felt him smirk against your lips when you gasped too sharply, a soft moan eliciting from his movements, before his fingers stilled briefly, as if in warning.

“I said quiet,” he demanded, his mouth leaving yours to skim your jaw. “Or do you want me to stop?”

You could only whimper in need, shaking your head and clutching his shoulder tighter.

Lewis hummed in amusement, drawing you closer, his lips pressing a trail of heat down the side of your neck. “That’s what I thought.”

And so he continued, slipping his long fingers through your folds and inside. With the stars above, waves below and the night bending to your body, you let him undo you, grinding yourself onto his fingers weakly under your dress until you reached your high.

His shining doe eyes glazed with adoration as he watched you, relishing the flow of your slickness onto his hand while you quivered breathlessly, covering your mouth as you came down. You could feel heat rising off him, hard beneath you with tension in his legs as he held himself back while you recovered. Soon after, he shifted, urging you gently to your feet.

You stood in front of him, turned towards the view, your hands braced on the railing to keep yourself upright as your legs wobbled like jelly. The light breeze tousled your hair as though you were in a movie, and you felt him rise behind you, followed by the warmth of his chest as he pressed in close.

“I told you, you’re mine tonight.” His smooth voice whispered against your ear.

Lewis carefully slipped the skirt of your dress higher, ensuring you were only exposed just enough that he could slowly, discreetly, slide himself in. A gasp came from both your lips in unison, your knees weak as his length filled you. He kissed your shoulder, your spine, the back of your neck, each press of his mouth claiming you as his all over again.

Your fingers coiled against the balcony edge, thankful that the barrier kept your lower half hidden in the dark of the night as you arched yourself to allow deeper access. His hard length stroked through your folds, hitting the wall inside that sent a hot tingle through you. One of his hands came around to your front, resting against your stomach to hold you close to him. The other trailed its way over your abdomen and along your breast, until his fingers found your jaw, guiding it gently to face him.

“You look so fucking beautiful like this,” he murmured, his hungry eyes trailing over your features in the moonlight before capturing your mouth with his own.

Ecstasy coursed through you as you kissed him back fervently over your shoulder, grasping onto his forearm with one hand while you moved your hips in rhythm with his. He swallowed the moan that escaped you when his thrusts hit deeper, his own ragged breath shuddering as his mouth clasped over yours while pleasure blazed like fire across your skin.

“Shh, baby,” he warned again, a smirk in his voice. 

Your giggle was hushed as your eyes met his once more and he shook his head slightly. He looked at you as though he was staring at everything he’d ever wanted in one body, in one soul. His expression softened, his eyebrows creasing together subtly. You wondered if he felt the same things you did when you looked at him; the rush of breathlessness, the flutter that stirred low in your belly, the way the world quietened when he touched you. Did it make his chest ache the way yours did?

“I’m so fucking lucky,” he whispered, as if the words escaped him without permission.

The depth of love that lived behind his eyes made your heart swell, as if it was too much to carry, yet too precious to set down. You tilted your chin, pressing your lips to the corner of his mouth, tasting the smile he tried to hide. He kissed you again with his whole body, and you breathed his name into the night like it was the only one that ever mattered.

He didn’t rush. His movements were almost worshipful, attuned to every part of you, the way your breath caught when he touched you just right, the way your lashes fluttered when he whispered to you in his smooth voice. Every stroke was full of intention, every rock of his hips a declaration: I love you. I choose you. You’re mine.

The stars above watched you both in silence, while the sea whispered against the cliffs below, barely drowning out the wet sound between your legs. The night folded around you as Lewis made good on every silent promise, and through it all you never felt more known. Never felt more loved.

He touched you like devotion made tangible in flesh. His lips moulded over your own when you began to tremble, and his name turned to gasps, then the world narrowed to the feeling of him, only him. Only Lewis.

His own shudder came soon after, throbbing deep inside you as you clamped down over him, milking every bit until your inner thighs soaked. He held you close, your legs shaking and your voice becoming nothing more than panted breaths as you both came down from your high, while your cheeks flushed hot against his kiss.

"Let’s get you inside, Mrs. Hamilton.” He grinned, catching his breath.

You smiled, dazed and completely, utterly his. He gathered you into his arms once again, carrying you through the balcony doors and into the warmth of the waiting bed.

The next morning arrived slowly.

You woke wrapped in the sheets, your body cradled in Lewis’ warmth, your cheek resting over the slow rise and fall of his chest. His hand lay against your bare back protectively, the fingers of his other hand tangled with yours where they'd found you in the night. You could still feel him on you, around you, in that deep fullness only love could leave behind.

He stirred when you shifted, blinking awake with a sleep-warmed smile. His voice was rough from sleep, laced with affection and the remnants of the night before, when he placed his lips on your forehead. “Good morning…”

Neither of you rushed out of bed. This morning belonged to you. To the silent smiles exchanged in the soft spill of sunlight through the windows, to the kisses that lingered longer than necessary, and hands that never stopped touching each other, even for a second, as he loved you awake.

Eventually, the world called you back to reality.

By midday, the villa was alive again with voices and movement. You and Lewis emerged into the warmth of the terrace, the scent of espresso and sea salt in the air, Isabella in oversized sunglasses sipping something citrusy already, while Charles was in the middle of storytelling as the others packed up.

The plan had already been decided: a full day out on the yacht.

Now, the Amalfi sun glittered above as you stood at the edge of the dock, the sea stretching wide and impossibly blue. The sleek boat was moored just beyond, sunlight bouncing off its surface and rippling in the water below. Sounds of laughter rang through the air as everyone began to board, Isabella in her linen dress, Miles trailing after her, pretending not to look too eager. Alexandra and Charles had already found their place under the shade, settling themselves in.

Lewis threaded your fingers together as he helped you onto the deck. He wore a loose, mostly unbuttoned shirt and cream pants, his other hand slipping on a pair of sunglasses. He looked sun-kissed and at ease, like the man he was when the world wasn’t watching. 

Once you had all boarded, the yacht began to pull away from the dock, the whir of the engine rising beneath your feet. Lewis pressed a light kiss on your cheek, before tugging you toward the front of the yacht where cushions and sunshine waited.

The wind lifted your hair as the coast began to drift behind you, and the open sea stretched ahead like forever. Yet, even with the whole world sparkling around you, surrounded by breathtaking views, it was still him who outshone it all.

The boat rocked gently on the current later that afternoon, anchored off near Positano where the cliffs rose in hazy gold above the shoreline. Music drifted from the speakers in rhythmic pulses from Lewis’ perfectly curated playlist, with a rare sprinkle of his own songs here and there. The breeze carried the scent of sea salt, sunscreen, and earth from somewhere far up the hills.

Miles had already attempted a cannonball from the top deck and nearly wiped out Charles in the process. Charles emerged sputtering and muttering a swear word or two, while Alex burst into laughter so bright it echoed off the water. Isabella, meanwhile, had turned the bow into her personal photoshoot location, and you played photographer, her direction increasingly dramatic the longer the shoot went on. Your arms grew tired from the never ending change of angles, but you didn’t mind.

At one point, you stretched out on one of the sunbeds, sunglasses sliding down your nose as you sipped ice cold lemonade and let yourself drift. The music blurred into background noise, the water glinting around the boat like scattered diamonds.

Then, there was Lewis, who was in the sea with the boys, swimming laps in that unbothered, athletic way he always moved; effortlessly graceful and powerful. His braids were tied back in his usual bun, his handsome face flushed from the sun, eyes squinting slightly as he surfaced and laughed at something Charles said. Water streamed down his shoulders as he climbed back onto the deck, and you watched him in profile, relaxed, shining with the kind of calm that was only seen in private.

He looked beautiful in the sun, alive in a way that made you count your lucky stars to have been blessed by the sight of such a creation. Yet somewhere deep in your heart, a feeling you tried to ignore tugged at you.

A whisper of that familiar ache. The part of you that remembered the way the world always tried to claim pieces of him. The way women always looked at him in Monaco, and in every city you’d walked into together. The part that sometimes wondered, just for a moment, if one day, he’d wake up and realise he was too good for this, for you. The part that you tried to tuck away into the depths of your mind, that Lewis tried to protect you from as best he could.

You pulled your gaze away from him, steadying your mind, but he caught it anyway.

He turned as if he’d felt it, and met your eyes behind your sunglasses with a smile so sweet and adoring, it knocked the breath out of you. A few minutes later, he crossed the deck with a fresh top up of your drink in one hand and a small plate of food he had grilled with Miles in the other. He was still damp from the water, in only his shorts with his lean torso bare, and a towel slung over his shoulders.

“For my lady,” he grinned, crouching beside your sunbed and placing the plate down gently.

You hummed gratefully, slipping your sunglasses off and sitting up to face him. “Aww, thank you, baby.”

Lewis looked irresistibly adorable as he took a sip from your drink, pride glittering in his brown eyes. You couldn’t help but reach for his jaw, giving his beard a gentle scratch and brushing off the lingering droplets of water. His skin was warm beneath your touch, the edge of his mouth tugging upward as he leaned into it slightly, his eyes fluttering half-shut like it was the best thing he’d felt all day.

Without thinking, you leaned in for a quick kiss, just a brush of lips, but he chased it. His mouth pressed back to yours, with his hand finding your waist as the rest of the world fell away. He tasted like sea salt and sweet citrus, his lips soft on your own. For a moment, it was just you and him, your skin warmed by the sun, and your hearts synced. 

That was until a voice broke through your bubble.

“Oh my God,” Miles shouted from somewhere behind you, cupping his hands around his mouth like a megaphone. “Someone stop them before they start taking their clothes off!”

You giggled against Lewis’ lips, moving to pull away as he lifted a leisurely middle finger in Miles’ direction, and kissed you again smugly.

“Someone’s gonna make real bank from the photos,” Isabella added, dry as sand. 

Charles was hauling himself back onto the boat, his body glistening like he was in a swim shoot. “Don’t look, bébé,” he declared dramatically, shielding Alex’s eyes with one dripping hand.

“Think they’ll already be making plenty from Charles flashing everyone his baguette earlier,” Lewis snickered, settling in next to you.

“It was an accident!” Charles called out defensively, taking the towel Alex handed him.

Miles laughed, shaking his head and facing towards Isabella. “Bells and I didn’t sign up to participate in exhibitionism today.”

“If I have to see another dick today, I’m riding home on the jet ski,” Isabella muttered, taking a bite of a cucumber slice from her plate.

Miles’ eyebrows twitched with a scandalised look. “Damn, I was about to whip mine out and join the party.”

Isabella’s head snapped towards him, eyes narrowed and arms folded in irritation at his smirk. You shared a look with the others, hiding your laughs at their interaction until Lewis leaned over.

“You know, there are beds inside if you two need to go sort yourselves out.” Lewis motioned towards the interior, amusement in his tone.

Isabella’s glare sharpened, turning in your direction before flicking her hand, her cucumber slice whizzing through the air and landing with a soft thwack against Lewis’ arm, startling a laugh out of him.

“Oh damn, BDSM now too?” Miles teased, earning another scowl from Isabella, to which he raised his hands innocently.

The moment dissolved into laughter, and slowly, the yacht began to drift back toward the dock. Salt clung to your skin, your cheeks warm from the sun and the teasing. Lewis’ hand found yours again, ever the gentleman and guiding you back onto land.

By the time you reached the villa again, the sky had cooled to a lavender hush, windows glowing softly with the promise of dinner. The scent of grilled basil and roasted garlic wove through the open doors, drawing everyone in with sun-flushed skin and freshly washed hair. Conversation and banter flowed over dinner, until the beat began to shift. 

You split off with the girls, getting yourselves ready for the night with the scent of perfumes misted across skin, and sounds of makeup mixing along the bathroom counters filling the room. When you reunited with the boys, you and Lewis had unintentionally matched your outfits, earning some giggles, but the two of you credited it to just how in tune you were with each other. 

Together, the group made its way into town, and just like that, the night opened its mouth wide and invited you in.

The path to the club twisted along the cliffside, the air electric with music vibrating. Laughter bounced off limestone walls as the sea churned below, moonlight washing over waves. At the entrance was a glowing arch framed the pulse of strobe lights within, flashing pink, blue, gold.

Miles was already hyping himself up, his head nodding along with the music and a “Let’s gooo!” that turned heads. His chains bounced against his collarbone, rings catching the light as he pointed skyward to no one in particular, already syncing with the beat while the rest of you followed behind.

Inside, the cave opened into a vast chamber, its rough stone walls alive with LED pulses and cascading projections that flickered across every crevice. The bass echoed in your chest with a thud, while light ricocheted off sequins and skin. Behind the DJ, the rock arched upward like a natural amphitheatre, while out beyond the open terrace, you could just make out the dark stretch of the sea beyond the glass railings.

Lewis guided you in with a palm low on your back, staying there protectively as if he didn’t want to lose you to the rhythm already pulling people under. You made your way through the crowds, and stepped up into your section, his other hand steadying you as heels hit stone. 

Your group settled into the plush seating with messily arranged pillows, low tables already scattered with sweating buckets of ice, and lit by a tall, warm lamp. The seating was close to the bar area, which was already packed with people snagging their next rounds of shots. A barrage of scents filled the air, including alcohol, different perfumes, mixed with the earthy saltiness of the cave.

Lewis’ hand slid across your waist, his touch light yet lingering. You glanced up just as he leaned in, his lips brushing a kiss to your temple.

“You good, baby?” he asked over the thumping music, the intimacy of it brushing a blush across your cheeks. You nodded, and he dipped his head a little closer. “I’ll grab us some drinks.”

Charles was already moving toward the bar, but Lewis hesitated, eyes flicking over you one last time like he couldn’t keep his eyes off you in your outfit. 

That was until Miles thudded past, clapping him on the back. “C’mon, bro. Drinks await.”

You watched them vanish into the crowd, Miles all height and glinting chains, Charles perfectly put together as always, and Lewis with one last glance over his shoulder that made butterflies flutter low in your stomach.

Isabella pulled out her phone immediately, adjusting her hair while moving the camera around. “Girls, this lighting is perfect.”

She was already pulling you and Alex closer, rearranging limbs and cushions with the precision of a director on a fashion shoot. Alexandra smiled softly, glancing up through her lashes with her chin tilted, while you laughed and leaned into the moment, the bass buzzing through your bones.

You smiled for the first few shots, but let the next ones just happen, hair a little windblown, cheeks flushed, skin still kissed by the sun from the afternoon. Once Isabella was satisfied, the chatter amongst you continued, your face sore from laughter as she recounted her hair mishap from when the three of you were getting ready. 

You leaned in closer to the girls when Isabella brought up her dating apps, your faces lit softly by the glow of her phone screen as she swiped. The three of you commented on each card, reading through their bios and insisting Isabella swipe no on half of the options.

The energy in the club was pulsing, alive, but your little trio felt like a soft pocket of calm, until Isabella suddenly went still, looking towards the bar.

Her finger hovered mid-scroll. “Wait,” she said, voice tightening. “Who the hell is that?”

You followed her gaze, where at first, it was hard to focus. Then, you saw Lewis standing by the bar with two drinks in his hands, and a woman in front of him.

She was tall with impossibly long legs, her dress shimmering like liquid metal in the strobe, a slip that clung to her hips and exposed a long sweep of back. Her hair was pin-straight and glossy, catching the light with every turn of her head, though in the club's kaleidoscope of color, it was impossible to tell the exact shade. Her eyes were fixed on Lewis, focused, familiar. 

She was standing close, too close. Then, her fingers lightly brushed the middle of his chest as she laughed at something he said.

Your stomach twisted instantly. She didn’t look like a fan, and she didn’t carry herself like someone meeting him for the first time either. She looked like someone who knew him…intimately.

Your heart skipped once, then again, before falling into a quick, uncomfortable pace. It thudded hard in your ears, above the music, above everything. Your palms were suddenly damp and cold. Before you could think, you rose to your feet without a word.

You heard Isabella say your name, but it was distant, you were already moving towards them.

The crowd blurred around you, voices and color hazy at the edges of your vision as your focus locked in on the bar. On him, on her. Your body felt hot and cold at once, every step buzzing with adrenaline as if you were walking into something you didn’t want to see.

“I’m here with friends,” you heard him say, as your ears hyperfocused on his words and your eyes watched his mouth move.

Friends. Your breath caught in your throat, your feet halting as though suddenly glued to the ground, and time slowed. Friends? Not my girlfriend, not with my girlfriend and our friends…just friends.

It shouldn't have meant anything, but somehow it did.

The woman’s eyes sparkled in the low lights at his words, like she knew the warmth of his laugh, the sound of his breathing, the weight of his body in the dark. He didn’t move away from her touch completely, standing almost politely. The part of you that had always felt safe with him faded at the edges, doubt turning your blood cold beneath your skin.

Your heart continued to pound hard in your chest, a sick, hollow rhythm that made it difficult to breathe. The club spun around you with bright lights and body heat, but your focus tunneled in on the two of them, the rest of the world narrowing to the sight of his profile, listening to her speak as he always did with anyone.

Lewis turned just then and saw you. His eyes softened at the sight of you, a subtle lift at the corners of his mouth, as if his entire body eased the second your eyes met his. You barely noticed though, focusing on trying to steady your breathing.

Maybe she was just a friend. Maybe some model he’d done a shoot with. Maybe they were acquaintances. Maybe it wasn’t what it appeared to be.

“Hey, baby.” Lewis smiled and stepped slightly to the side, lowering one of the glasses into your hand without missing a beat.

The glass was cool against your palm, but your skin felt hot, tingling, like every cell in your body had been rewired. Your fingers tightened, the condensation slick against your skin as he slipped his arm around your waist.

You barely heard him when he introduced her as Kate, then gestured towards you, your name sounding strange in his mouth for some reason. “This is my girlfriend.”

Kate’s gaze flicked to you, cool and curious in a way that felt you were being dissected. You didn’t know if she was actually beautiful or if your brain was just telling you she must be, but in that moment, under those lights, she might as well have been a goddess.

Her lips curled into a practiced, yet warm smile. “Nice to meet you.”

Her eyes lingered on yours for a beat too long, then flicked down, almost imperceptibly, before coming back up. There was a faint lift in her eyebrows, as if you’d surprised her. As if you didn’t quite match whatever image she’d imagined.

Beneath the warmth of her expression, there was a flicker of steel, a subtle iciness in her eyes. It wasn’t hostile, it was almost possessive. As though, in some alternate version of the world, she was the one who belonged beside Lewis, and you were the stranger.

“You too,” you squeaked out, trying to smile under her intimidating gaze. 

You tried to breathe through the invisible hand closing around your lungs, but your mind was still back on that subtle look, caught in the silence between the lines, wondering how someone could seem so polite and yet feel like a warning. 

You barely heard whatever else was said after that, too caught in the thrum of your pulse and pretending you weren’t overthinking it all. Lewis stroked your waist with his thumb, but your mind was reeling as though you were watching this moment from outside your body.

You didn’t want to be this person, you promised yourself you wouldn’t be this person anymore. The one measuring her worth in half-glances and histories she hadn’t been part of, but the way she’d looked at him, looked at you. As if you didn’t belong there, as if Lewis wasn’t yours, as if you weren’t good enough. 

Blinking, you tried to pull yourself back into the present, but you couldn’t rid yourself of the tightening in your shoulders or the chaos beneath your skin. Your heart was still racing, but now you felt the sweat at the back of your neck, the tiny tremble in your fingers. Before you knew it, Lewis’ hand was gently guiding you back toward the group like nothing had happened.

The music throbbed beneath your feet like a second pulse, vibrating up through the ground and into your bones. Lights pulsed overhead in reds and violets, rippling across your group and smearing every familiar face with a haze.

You were back among your friends, with Isabella laughing in exaggerated disbelief at something Miles had said, Charles tossing back a shot with one hand and tugging Alexandra closer with the other, the air thick with heat and perfume, as well as whatever cocktail of euphoria the club pumped through the sound system, but it felt as if your body hadn’t caught up.

A small, cold, bead of sweat trickled down your spine, and you tried your best to ground yourself in reality, stretching your mouth into a weak smile and laughing along when the others did. You focused on your breaths, through your nose and out your mouth slowly.

Lewis was beside you, one arm loosely around your waist, with his body angled toward Miles in conversation. His fingers rested warm against your body, but even that felt like too much. Suddenly, your dress felt too tight, clinging in all the wrong places, suffocating your ribs. Your makeup felt thick and waxy, your skin hot beneath it. The scent of someone’s cologne nearby made your stomach turn, your mouth watering through the dryness.

You hadn’t touched your drink, you just swirled your straw around as the ice melted. Isabella leaned into you at one point, yelling over the music, but you couldn’t hear her, couldn’t even register her expression. You nodded with a small smile before she was gone again, laughing with Alexandra.

Lewis dipped his head towards you, noticing your quietness, his brow furrowed slightly.

“Hey.” His voice was low near your ear. “You okay?”

He was so close, so beautiful, and still, your chest felt tight like you couldn’t take a full breath.

“Yeah,” you replied quickly. “Just a bit warm.”

His eyes searched yours for a moment, not entirely convinced by your response. He slid his hand up your back comfortingly, and pressed a soft kiss to your head. 

“Come,” he smiled, his mouth brushing your temple. “Dance with me.”

He took your hand, pulling you into the blur of strobe and sound, where the bass thumped loud enough to push every other thought aside, but that twist of nausea sat stubbornly in your belly as your mind raced.

At first, it helped. You danced with your friends, arms in the air and your laughter real enough when Isabella spun you around. For a moment, it all felt easy again as though nothing had changed, and you hadn’t been spiralling.

Lewis was in front of you, mouthing the words to the song with a grin, his hands catching yours as he moved with you, your bodies in sync. The way he looked at you made you feel like the only girl in the room, but even as you smiled back, your chest felt tight. Because you weren’t the only girl in the room.

No matter how hard you tried to stay in the moment, you kept falling out of it, and slipping into doubt. This wasn’t new though, you’d had moments like this before. When a glance or a laugh that wasn’t meant for you made your chest tighten. The trust you’d built with Lewis was strong, he always made you feel safe and more loved than you ever could have imagined. Yet some part of you still braced for the day you would wake up from this dream life of yours.

Still, you didn’t want him to see it. Not after all the work you had done already, telling yourself that these things were inevitable, and that you were the one he loved.

You turned around in the rhythm of the music, letting your back press against Lewis’ chest. He slid his arms around your waist without hesitation, his beard tickling your cheek as he moved with you. His breath was warm against your ear, and you felt the soft rumble of him singing to you under his breath along with the song blasting through the speakers, and for a second, it worked. His hold felt safe, like it could protect you from the storm still building in your own head.

Yet, even as he kissed your shoulder and smiled at you like you were his whole world, you couldn’t help the question running through your mind. Why didn’t it feel like enough tonight?

By the time you returned home to the villa, the laughter from the club still rang faintly in your ears as you got yourself ready for bed. Everyone had drifted to their rooms in scattered pairs, the energy of the night dissolving into tired footsteps and the soft thud of bedroom doors closing. The night had grown quiet around you as you laid in your bed, the air thick with the clicking of cicadas and the slow exhale of the sea. 

Lewis’ breathing was steady behind you, his arm slung protectively over your waist and his body curved around yours instinctively. He’d fallen asleep quickly, worn out from the day’s activities. Just before he drifted off, he’d pressed a light kiss to your shoulder and mumbled a quiet, “Love you, baby.”

You’d whispered it back, because you did love him. You always had.

However, in the stillness of the room, those words echoed differently. Your mind began to slip away again, toward something you weren’t ready to look at but couldn’t stop chasing.

It was a mistake to look her up. You knew it the second you’d typed her name into your phone, knew it again when the search results loaded up across your screen, glowing skin, photoshoots and holidays. She was beautiful, of course. They always were. 

You knew you shouldn’t, but the curiosity stirred in your stomach and before you knew it, you’d searched again, this time with Lewis’ name next to hers, and there it was. Gossip pages and news articles linking the two together, with small bits of evidence. 

The quiet of the room was almost suffocating as you scrolled through the images, the glow of the screen harsh against your tired eyes. Each one felt like a carefully placed puzzle piece, painting a picture of a closeness you hadn’t known about.

There was a photo of Kate posing in an oversized hoodie, and your breath caught when you recognised it in a photo of Lewis wearing the same one. And then, another photo, this time of a male figure from behind in black hoodie and red pants, with a colourful suitcase to the left. The same suitcase Lewis was spotted with at the airport not long before. 

None of it was overt, but it all whispered the same thing. That he was there. That they were something. She wanted people to know.

The date on the photo made your heart sink in your chest. Only two months before he had invited you to Melbourne. You weren’t together then, but you’d been friends. Talking almost every day, building something soft and slow without realising how close you were to falling. He probably hadn’t thought it meant anything, but you still remembered the way your heart skipped every time his name flashed on your screen. How you’d stare at the ceiling at night wondering what it all meant, and all the while, he’d been sleeping with someone else.

Your stomach twisted again, a sour, mouthwatering nausea building up. You weren’t angry at him, but it just kept happening, over and over again. No matter where you went in the world, there always seemed to be someone there who already knew how his lips tasted and the feel of his body. Models, actresses, singers, influencers, women with stories inked into their skin, and women who looked like they were sculpted by gods. Women who’d never had to second guess whether they were enough. 

And then there was you.

You felt so…ordinary, unexceptional. Not a supermodel or some celebrity superstar. Just you. A girl who was thrust into the unforgiving hands of the world for loving a man, giving people who didn’t know you permission to judge and criticise your every move. You had done your best over the last couple of years to not let it get to you, knowing that you chose this life, but sometimes, when the noise in your head got too loud, you couldn’t help but wonder when he’d start to see it too.

It had been one of your biggest hurdles as a couple from the very beginning. The hardest part wasn’t Lewis’ past, he’d never hidden that from you, it was how deeply it seeped into the present. How it followed you around the world, online, in person, and echoed in introductions at events. How it kept you constantly bracing for a moment that might never come, the moment he might look at someone else the way he looked at you.

It wasn’t fair. You knew it wasn’t fair on him. Lewis had never given you a reason not to trust him, and yet you carried this secret ache in your chest when things like this happened, this dull fear that maybe you were the exception, not the rule. Maybe this wasn’t built to last. Maybe someone would come along who made more sense beside him, one day. Someone perfect, easier. Someone who didn’t flinch when the past showed up wearing a tight dress and a seven-figure modelling contract.

Though you weren’t angry with him, a small inkling of resentment lingered in your bones that he hadn’t told you who she was. Not at the club, not afterward, not even when he saw your entire energy change. You could almost understand it, the timing hadn’t been right, not when you were surrounded by people, noise and music. It hadn’t been the moment, but a part of you still wondered almost bitterly, if he’d ever intended to tell you at all, and you hated that. Hated that you had to learn about her from a handful of photos and tagged posts, from your own late-night digging instead of his honesty. Hated the shape of the doubt it left behind.

You blinked away the sting of tears building along your lashes, and shifted slightly beneath the sheets. Lewis stirred behind you, murmuring something unintelligible as he tightened his arm instinctively around your waist. His breath brushed the back of your neck, and for a moment, you just let yourself sink into his warmth, his presence, the devotion in the way he held you even in sleep. The kind of love that lived in muscle memory.

You knew he loved you, that was never the question, but love didn’t always silence that secret fear. Sometimes it made it louder, because now there was something to lose. You didn’t know how many more ghosts you could outrun before one of them made you stumble.

So instead, you laid still, letting your thoughts slip back into the shadows, slowing your breaths purposely to stop your tears flowing. You let the hurt settle deep in your chest like it always did, the kind that didn’t kill but never stopped aching. Even then, even with your heart breaking beneath the weight of it all, you still loved him.

You loved him more than you had ever imagined you could love anyone or anything.

Sometimes, you just didn’t know if it would ever be enough to pull you out from drowning in a sea of women who had him first. 

The next morning unfolded in pale, golden silence.

Sunlight spilled softly through the linen curtains, casting delicate shadows across the floor. The sheets around you were still warm, tousled from sleep, but the space beside you was empty. The covers were rumpled and the pillow was faintly indented from where his head had been.

You sat up slowly, your body aching with a tiredness that hadn’t come from sleep. The night had left its mark in the stiffness of your limbs, the dull ache behind your eyes, the lingering nausea curled deep in your belly as soon as you were reminded of the events of the night. You barely had time to reach for the glass on the nightstand before the door creaked open.

Lewis stepped in, already dressed in a soft shirt and grey shorts that hung low on his hips. His braids were loose and his skin was glowing even more golden than usual from the sun. He had a glass of electrolytes in one hand and a plate of breakfast in the other, eyes lighting up the moment they found yours.

“Hi,” he murmured with a soft grin, making his way towards you. “Wasn’t sure if you were still sleeping.”

You offered a small smile as he sat on the edge of the bed and handed you the drink. He kissed your forehead, lips lingering for a second longer than usual, as though he could tell something was off.

“Figured we could stay in bed today. Skip the boat, make it a lazy one.” He cupped your cheek with his large, warm hand, his thumb caressing your cheek delicately.

The ache in your chest sharpened as you met his eyes. He was so sweet, so gentle, so good, and you wished you could accept it. You wished you could let him curl up with you and cuddle the day away in your little bubble together like you sometimes did, but you couldn’t. Not with your stomach still stirring with a feeling of disappointment, your mind still replaying the night before in sick, looping flashes. 

You just wanted to be alone, to wallow in your pain just a little longer without him witnessing it. You knew it would break his heart, especially after all the times you’d discussed these feelings in the past, all the ache you had seen in his eyes, and how much love he poured into you.

“I think I just need to sleep,” you sighed, lowering your gaze down to your glass. “You should go, I know you were really excited for today. I’ll join you later.”

You felt the pause in him, his eyebrows furrowing as he tried to read between the lines. He shifted slightly on the edge of the bed, dropping his hand to rest against your shin over the covers.

“What’s wrong, baby?” He pushed gently, dipping his head slightly to meet your eyes again. 

“I’m just tired, Lew. A little too much time in the sun, I think,” you replied, reaching up to move one of his braids back and running your thumb along his beard.

“You sure?” he asked, placing his hand over yours. “I don’t mind staying in. We could put on a movie or just sleep, we don’t have to do anything.”

“I know,” you nodded, your voice soft. “But I want you to go, I want you to enjoy today. Please, baby.”

The word please did something to him. He squeezed your hand lightly in understanding.

“Alright.” He gave a slow nod and made a small attempt to lighten the mood. “I’ll bring you back something. How about that gelato you liked yesterday?”

You smiled faintly. “That’d be nice.”

He leaned in, brushing his warm lips to yours, before rising. “I’ll check in though, okay? Text me if you need anything.”

Soon after, he collected his things and left almost hesitantly, with another kiss to your lips. The door closed behind him with a soft click, and you let your head fall back onto the pillow, the sound of his footsteps growing quieter down the hall. 

Your throat was still tight when you turned over, the ache in your chest lingering as the memories of last night, and every other stunning ex of his you had run into flickered through your mind. You felt so small, insignificant, imperfect. 

You laid for a while in the bed, unmoving, like if you held yourself still enough, the ache would pass, the sickly feeling in your stomach, the heat in your face, and the strain in your eyes. You placed a hand on his side of the bed, the scent of him lingering in the sheets.

You hated how relieved you were that Lewis had gone. Hated that you were the one who asked him to leave. Hated the part of you that was already missing him, the part that knew he would’ve stayed if you’d just let him.

You inhaled a shaky breath, like you could reset something inside of you. The morning light slanted through the thin curtains, casting long lines across the room. You sat up at the edge of the bed after a while, your hands resting on your knees, your shoulders curved in like your body was folding to protect yourself.

You didn’t want to cry, but now that he was gone, you could, so you let the tears flow down your cheeks. You knew if he’d seen you like this, it would’ve broken him. You’d promised, not just him, but yourself, that you wouldn’t let the past get in the way of what you had now. Not anymore.

But the images wouldn’t leave you.

Her hand on his chest.

That familiarity in her eyes.

The way she’d looked at you, polite, yet razor-sharp underneath.

The stories you’d found. Her in his hoodie. The suitcase. Her watching his race with that smug little caption.

It wasn’t jealousy, or distrust. It was fear. The same fear that lived in the deepest part of you, the one that whispered: You’re not like them. You’ll never be enough for a man like him.

You pushed yourself off the bed, swallowing down the knot in your throat. The tiles were cool beneath your feet as you made your way to the bathroom. You slipped your clothes off slowly. Your hair was messy and your eyes were puffy, exhausted from the events of yesterday and the lack of sleep. You didn’t look like someone who belonged in Lewis Hamilton’s world, not when you stood next to a model like her.

The water in the shower was scalding, but it didn’t matter. You needed it, you needed to feel something else, to wash the night off your skin.

You let it pour over you, steam floating in thick waves around the marble, your fingers braced against the wall as you counted each breath, willing the spiraling thoughts to settle. Willing your heartbeat to slow, but even as the fog cleared from the mirror and the water cooled, that deep ache still lingered.

Eventually, you stepped out, wrapping yourself in one of Lewis’ towels, not the thick villa ones, but the soft, dark one he brought from home. It smelled like him, that divine woody and sweet fragrance he always wore.

You padded back into the bedroom, your hair dripping, and your body heavy. You didn’t feel ready to face the others, but you told yourself maybe you’d lie back down, and rest for just a bit, let the world go quiet again, before you rejoined them.

You crossed to the closet, sliding the door open. Lewis’ side was meticulous as always, crisp shirts, oversized pants, a couple of his hoodies hanging near the top. The navy one you liked and the cream one you always stole. 

It was a little stupid, maybe even petty, but you wanted to wear one right now. After last night, after her, something in you bristled with the urge to wear something of his, to wrap yourself in it like a claim. You weren’t proud of it, but the feeling was there all the same, nagging and almost childish. You reached up for the navy, fingers brushing soft fleece, and pulled it off the hanger.

As you stepped back, your hand knocked against something in the pocket of a heavier jacket beside it. The one you secretly hated when he’d packed it. Lewis always managed to make even the ugliest clothes look incredible though, so you had trusted his taste, despite the internal cringe you felt knowing he might wear it out at some point on the trip. It was heavier than you remembered, oddly weighted.

You winced at the contact, rubbing your knuckles where they’d hit the stiff outer fabric. The impact had been soft, but the thing inside wasn’t. It was hard and sharp-edged. Your brows drew together in curiosity.

You hesitated at first, before slipping your hand into the inner pocket. Your fingers closed around something small and square, brushing along velvet. You pulled it out slowly. A ring box.

For a moment, your breath caught, but then your mind reasoned, half-heartedly. It was probably just one of his. He wore rings all the time, especially those insanely expensive diamonds and gold chunky Cartier rings. He was the kind of man who would carry one around just in case.

Still, your thumb hovered over the edge, your curiosity getting the better of you.

The hinge gave with a soft click, then, everything tilted. A thin gasp caught in your throat.

It wasn’t one of his. Even before you opened it, your heart knew. 

The ring glittered in the sunlight, with the biggest and most elegant diamond at the center, shaped just how you’d always loved. The same style you’d once shown Isabella on your phone one night in Monaco, barely even serious.The band was timeless, the perfect thickness that was too exact to be coincidence.

A tremor moved through you, as you lifted the ring gently from its cushion, fingers shaking. There, just beneath the curve of the band, was an engraving so small you almost missed it. His initials and yours. 

You sat down on the edge of the bed like your body had forgotten how to hold its own weight, the world spinning around you. The box sat open in your hands, soft against your palm, your heart thudding in a strange, muted rhythm.

A sound caught in your throat, a small sob. Your fingers pressed over your mouth, as if you could push it all back down, the guilt, the panic, the sudden ache of knowing you had doubted him.

You’d let your own insecurities tear open the part of your heart that always felt safe with Lewis. When Kate had looked at you the way she had, you let it worm into you, that old fear. The fear of not being good enough, not perfect enough.

You’d spent all night and all morning spiraling, convinced he was slipping away. That you weren’t enough. That someone else, polished, glamorous and deserving, would always eclipse you in his world.

But this? This was not the act of a man unsure, of a man who still had a foot in the past.

This was him choosing you, planning for you. Knowing what he wanted.

Your lips parted, but no breath came. Tears blurred your vision, shame rising fast and sharp in your throat. You wiped at your cheeks but more came, unstoppable now.

You thought of how you’d pulled away this morning. Of how he’d touched your face so gently and you could barely look him in the eye.

He loved you.

He was going to ask you to be his forever.

He was going to ask you to marry him.

You didn’t know how long you sat there, staring at the ring, your face soaked with tears and imagining how you might have felt when he surprised you with it. You wondered when he was planning to do it, how long he’d been holding onto it, if what he’d said that night on the balcony was him gauging your thoughts on it. It wasn’t as though you had never discussed the idea, you had always just brushed it off as something far off until he was done with racing. You had no idea it would happen for you so soon.

You were so caught up in your thoughts, that you didn’t hear the footsteps at first.

You didn’t register the soft creak of the door, until his voice cut through the quiet.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Taglist: @sltwins @ernegren @sher-ni @skzvibes-blog @rageshots @esw1012🤍🤍

[knowinglewis]

It's been two weeks since I last updated Fading Lines and I know I promised the epilogue, but ya girl has been sick and busy as helll with work, so I haven't had the chance to post anything just yet :(

I'm absolutely loving writing Clarity, the epilogue, whenever I get the chance to and I desperately want to get it posted, but part one still only halfway done at this point!

HOWEVER.

I have no self control and want to share some of it so bad, so I've put a little sneak peek into the epilogue below the cut. Really hope you enjoy this little bite for now, until I can get the full thing posted! It's going to be another emotional rollercoaster, but have a sweet moment...for now!

That evening, the sky was a soft blur of peach and lavender, the sea shimmering just beyond the villa’s terrace as everyone settled into their places around the long table. Plates of pasta, bowls of olives, and half-eaten pizzas created a beautiful feast under strings of warm lights.

Lewis sat beside you, one arm draped casually across the back of your chair, fingers trailing up and down the exposed skin of your upper arm in gentle strokes, sending a familiar warmth flowing through you. Your hand rested on his leg in a way that had become second nature over the last couple of years, running your thumb back and forth comfortingly. He was listening to Charles describe a dog mishap from earlier in the week, but his fingers had found yours under the table, idly playing with your rings and tracing your knuckles.

The fluttering in your stomach never ceased at his affectionate touches, you could spend hours sitting like this while your heart continuously swelled with adoration. You were so in love with him, and just when you thought you couldn’t love Lewis more, he always managed to make you fall even harder.

The long wooden table soon became a mess of half-finished plates, crumpled napkins, and bottles of limoncello someone had cracked open too early, before dessert was served in a variety of platters across the table, including mini tiramisu and tarts, as well as an array of fruits.

At one point, Lewis reached for a slice of grilled peach from the platter in front of you, then paused and brought it toward your mouth instead. You leaned in without hesitation, your lips parting slightly, the fruit sweet and warm on your tongue. He watched you intently with a small smirk as you took a bite, loving the way the juice burst lightly onto your lips.

A flush bloomed across your cheeks at the hunger and love in his sparkling brown eyes, while his thumb caught the stray juice on the corner of your lips. He brought it to his mouth and licked the juice off, before eating the rest of the slice like it was nothing. Your breath caught at how gorgeous he was under the dim light, watching his tongue roll across his lush lips and trying to hide the ridiculous smile crawling across your face.

“Oh my God. I did not come here to be edged by your food foreplay.” Isabella narrowed her eyes from next to you.

You laughed, still caught in the quiet heat of Lewis’ gaze. There was something about the way he looked at you, like the rest of the table had disappeared entirely, like you were the only thing anchoring him to the present moment.

[knowinglewis]

[knowinglewis]

I’m just going to pretend that this is actually how Silverstone ended and forget that today ever happened……….

Fading Lines

Part one/Part Two/Part Three/Part Four/Part Five/Final Part

Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Summary: The lines between friendship and something more start to blur between you and Lewis when after invites you to his first race weekend with Ferrari.

Word Count: 13,256

Warnings: ANGST, arguing, anxiety, yearning, overthinking. Some smut, but tooth aching sugar sweet FLUFFFFF! No use of Y/N.

A/N: WELP. Here we are my loves! This series has come to an end, and my apologies for the delay in getting the finale to you. It was a labour of love and I truly hope you all enjoy it! I'm really sad to finish this series, though I could be tempted to write an epilogue chapter too, but just unsure how I want that to look yet! From the bottom of my heart thank you all SO SO SOOOOOOO insanely much for reading this series and sticking with me through this journey! Please let me know your thoughts on it or if there's anything you'd like to see next! 🤍

Lewis said he needed to see you, that he was coming.

The words kept echoing in your head, looping louder than the doubts trying to creep in beneath them. You hadn’t asked questions, hadn’t asked if he was already on the way, or if he was still just making up his mind. You didn’t even know where he was flying from, but he sounded sure, as if he had already made the decision before the phone rang.

Still, a part of you couldn’t help it, hesitation had already settled somewhere beneath your ribs. What if he didn’t come? What if this was just another almost?

You blinked hard and pushed the thought away. You needed to move.

You stood up too quickly, your limbs stiff, and your breath shaky as you walked through your apartment. The place was a mess in that sudden, microscopic way where everything seemed messy when you knew someone else was going to be looking. You started in the living room, gathering the cardigan draped over the armrest, the pair of socks kicked under the coffee table, the half-finished cup of tea now gone cold. 

You moved on instinct, straightening cushions, gathering mugs, wiping surfaces. The kind of pointless cleaning you did when your body needed distraction, because your mind was already spiraling from the messiness of the morning.

You were halfway through wiping down the kitchen bench when your phone buzzed on the counter, a text from Lewis appearing across the screen.

Landing just after 8. Should be at yours by 9.

You stared at the message until the screen dimmed, before reading it again. He was actually coming.

You replied with a simple, "Okay. See you soon." But you held the phone in your hand for a long time after, like it was grounding you.

Then came the other part. Isabella’s voice had been sharp and clear when you called her later that afternoon: “Deactivate your socials. Or go private. Whatever you do, stop giving them access.”

You sat on the edge of your bed, your laptop balanced across your knees. Instagram was first, you scrolled through the flood of DMs and tags with your stomach twisting. People had already seen the photos of you at the airport, along with other photos that had surfaced of you at the Melbourne race with Isabella and Raye.

Some comments were kind, complimenting you and how cute you looked with Lewis. Some were curious, wanting to know more about your relationship. Others weren’t, others were horrified at the sight of their celebrity crush being spotted with his lips on some woman. Especially after only ever being spotted walking side by side with his past flings, or within groups with friends, since his public split from his long time ex. This time, it was right in all of their faces, your hands on each other and your lips connected.

You didn’t let yourself linger though, you went private. Turned off tags, disabled comments, deleted one or two posts without thinking too hard about it. You resisted the urge to scroll through your endless DMs, some with messages of support, while others sending all forms of threats and hatred towards you for stealing their dream man. Then, you moved on to your other socials with the same process. Lock it down, and delete anything you didn’t want seen, especially posts that included your family or your workplace. 

When you closed your laptop, the room felt quieter, less exposed.

The clock read 7:10pm.

You still had time before he arrived, though now that you had stopped moving, your hands had started shaking again. You stepped into the shower, turned the water hot, and stood under the spray for as long as your skin could stand it. It didn’t calm you completely, but it helped you feel a little more refreshed.

By the time you were dry and dressed, in soft track pants and a loose top, you felt like you’d done everything you could. The apartment was clean, you were clean, and your notifications were finally silent.

Yet still, doubt crawled its way back in.

What if something changed? What if he didn’t show?

You tried not to look at the clock again, but you always did. 7:52. 8:06. 8:19.

You lit a candle, then blew it out five minutes later because the scent made your stomach turn. You poured a glass of water, drank half, then sat on the couch with your legs pulled up and your phone resting in your palm.

It buzzed again just before 8:40pm with a text from Lewis.

I’ll be there soon

Your breath caught in your throat. The doubt didn’t vanish, but it softened with a flicker of hope.

You typed out an “Okay,” then deleted it and sent a heart instead. Something simple, and almost safer.

Then, you waited.

You must have closed your eyes for just a moment.

The TV played something you weren't really watching, just background noise to keep your mind from spinning too fast. You'd stretched out on the couch with a throw blanket draped loosely over your legs, your phone resting next to you, and the soft sound of the room lulling you into a light, uneasy sleep.

It wasn’t a peaceful sleep, not with your body still holding all that tension in your shoulders, your jaw tight even as you drifted off. You didn’t dream, you only floated somewhere between exhaustion and the heaviness of the day.

A knock on the door pulled you back to reality.

You blinked awake, heart fluttering in your chest for a split second, unsure whether you’d imagined it. Until another softer knock, like he didn’t want to startle you.

You sat up quickly, the blanket sliding off your lap as you scrambled to your feet, the room spinning for a second before settling.

He was here.

You crossed the apartment in a blur, your heart pounding in your ears as you reached for the door, fingers suddenly cold against the handle. You paused for half a breath, just to steel yourself.

Then you opened it, and he was there.

Standing under the low glow of the hallway light, his braids tied back as usual, eyes shadowed from the long travel day. He looked exhausted, but still his warm, calm self.

In one hand, he held a paper bag with the logo of your favourite local takeaway place printed on the side. In the other, a small bunch of flowers, your favourite kind, the same ones he’d once sent you for your birthday, you didn’t think he’d even remembered. They weren’t perfectly arranged or extravagant, but they were thoughtful and beautiful.

You froze in the doorway. All the noise, the doubt, the what-ifs from the last few days slammed into your chest in one wave. He had come, he was standing in front of you, carrying comfort in both hands and looking at you as though you were the only thing that mattered in the world. 

“Hi,” he greeted quietly, his voice rough, like maybe he didn’t trust his voice either.

You barely heard it though.

You felt your heart crack in your chest, a soft unraveling that started in your ribcage and spread all the way to your throat. You’d held it together all day, hours of silence, tension, of holding your breath against the noise online, the doubts in your mind, the uncertainty that had followed you like a shadow from the moment you’d stepped away from him at the airport.

Now, he was here, and that was all it took.

You stepped forward without a word, reaching for him before your mind could second-guess it. The bouquet crinkled at your side, the takeaway bag rustling quietly as he adjusted to keep them both from getting crushed. His arms came around you, the weight anchoring you instantly like it had been waiting for you.

Your cheek pressed to his chest, and the tears came silently, burning hot against your skin. You didn’t sob, didn’t shake. You just let go, letting yourself feel how much you’d needed him. How much you hated the space that had formed between you. How terrified you’d been that he’d stay away while you struggled with this pain alone.

“I’ve got you,” Lewis whispered against your hair, his voice gentle with an ache of its own. “I’m here, sweetheart.”

His hand rubbed slow circles between your shoulder blades, the warmth easing your pain. His voice was steady, but you could feel the tension in him too, his heart beating faster, his breathing uneven.

You didn’t know how long you stood like that, pressed against him in the doorway, the night quiet around you. However, for the first time since everything fell apart, you felt yourself start to breathe properly again.

Eventually, you pulled back, your cheek still damp, and your fingers trembling slightly where they clung to the front of his shirt. You stepped out of his arms with a soft inhale, brushing at your eyes even though he’d already seen you like that with a quiet apology. He let you go slowly, hand trailing down your back until it fell away completely.

“Come in,” you murmured, your voice hoarse. “It’s cold out here.”

Lewis nodded and stepped inside. The hallway light caught on the curve of his cheekbone, highlighting the exhaustion in his handsome features. His shoulders were heavy with travel, yet he always managed to look as perfect as ever. He set the takeaway bag gently on the kitchen bench, then placed the flowers down beside it.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d be hungry,” he remarked after a short moment, quiet as though unsure if it was safe to speak yet. “But I remember you said this place was your favourite.”

He remembered. It was only something you’d said offhandedly months ago as a recommendation if he ever visited. You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. You could feel the pressure building again just beneath the surface, with grief, confusion, the ache of caring too much and not knowing where to put it.

You crossed to the kitchen slowly and helped unpack the containers, your movements automatic. He was close but kept a respectful distance, as if he wasn’t sure where your boundaries were anymore. You didn’t know either.

The food smelled good, but your stomach was still tight and unsettled, your appetite completely gone. You arranged the bouquet in a vase just to keep your hands busy from fidgeting anxiously. He watched you for a moment, but didn’t comment.

You sat on the couch with him, though it felt like a silent agreement rather than comfort. Lewis set the food down between you, and offered you a fork.

You shook your head gently. “I’m not hungry, thank you.”

His eyebrows creased together, just slightly in concern. Still, he didn’t push. 

You let your eyes trail over him, taking him in as words reeled in your mind of what to say. He looked tired, like been carrying more than just a long travel day. You wondered when he’d last slept properly, whether he’d eaten at all before this. Whether he’d sat on that plane wondering if you’d even open the door.

Neither of you spoke for a few minutes, but it wasn’t the good kind of silence this time. It wasn’t comforting or soft. It pressed in from the edges, heavy in a thick tension that drowned the words from your mouth. It was the kind of silence that existed between two people trying to find their way back to each other, but unsure if they were supposed to.

You pulled the blanket back over your legs, suddenly cold again. Not from the air, but from how close he was without being close enough. From how badly you wanted to lean into him again, but how afraid you were of what might happen if you did.

Lewis had picked at the meal for a while, then given up too. He sat with his elbows on his knees, staring down at his hands. He looked like he wanted to say something, but didn’t know how to begin.

Until finally, he cleared his throat, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry.”

Your gaze dropped to your fingers, clutching the fabric of the blanket at your thighs as he continued.

“I didn’t want any of this to happen to you.”

The apology landed softly inside your heart, but it didn’t settle anything yet. It didn’t ease your stress or diminish the fact that your entire life had been turned upside down overnight.

He glanced over at you, then back at the floor. “I know it’s bad right now.” His attempt at positivity fell flat. “But…things like this move fast. It won’t always be like this.”

You turned toward him slowly, disbelief building like a slow-moving wave.

“Bad?” You laughed bitterly, your voice sharp. “You think it’s just going to disappear? Something I just have to wait out until everyone gets bored?”

He hesitated. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No?” You sat up straighter, a sharp edge slicing into your voice. “Because that’s what it sounds like. You think this is just part of the deal?”

“I’m just trying to say it won’t always feel like this,” he replied carefully. “That there’s a way through it. I’m not saying it’s nothing.”

You stared at him, heat prickling at your eyes and your heart pounding in your ears. “No, Lewis. I’ve seen what happens to girls who get caught near drivers let alone kissing one. The vile comments, assumptions, death threats. Everyone turning your life into a spectacle out of nowhere. I’m not famous, I don’t have a team protecting me like you do. They’ve found so much of my life, they’ve posted photos of me from years ago and called me things I can’t even say out loud.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again. His jaw tightened, but he didn’t interrupt.

“You’re Lewis Hamilton. You’ll get a few questions from the media about being off the market or something, then everyone will move on like they usually do. Meanwhile, my entire life has been turned upside down.” You went on, your voice rising in sharp, uneven bursts. 

“I knew spending time with you came with this risk, but it’s different when it’s actually happening. They didn’t just see us hanging out, they saw a very private moment. It’s not a hypothetical anymore, it’s real now and it’s fucking terrifying.”

Your chest was heaving now, fingers curled in your lap. You couldn’t look at him after you’d spilled out the words you’d been holding in, the tears stinging your eyes slowly rolling down your cheeks.

Lewis leaned forward against his knees, running a hand down his face. “I didn’t realise it got that bad. That they found so much and people were-”

“Digging into my life?” you finished for him, your voice splintering. “Yeah.”

His gaze snapped up and guilt flashed across his face, but he couldn’t meet your eyes.

You didn’t look at him either, you couldn’t bring yourself to. You stared ahead like the air in front of you might break open and swallow you whole. “They found everything. People I haven’t spoken to since high school have messaged me. My parents called me in a panic. My boss called me. Do you know how humiliating that is?”

He didn’t speak, but you could feel him watching you. You wished he’d stop.

“I don’t know what to do,” you whispered. 

He rubbed his hand over his jaw. “I should’ve been here sooner. I called you as soon as I saw it.”

“I know,” you started, swallowing past the pain in your throat. “It doesn’t really change anything though, does it? Everything is already out there, you’re too late.”

“I’m here,” he spoke quickly, like it was the only thing he could cling to. “I got on a flight the moment I could. I-”

“But where were you the last five weeks?” Your voice wavered, but the anger underneath it didn’t as the question you’d been holding in your chest finally reached the surface.

His eyebrows pulled together as he explained, “I was working, my schedule was packed. The triple header, and every other second was just filled with something.”

“Yes, I’m well aware of that.” You muttered in response. “That’s not what I mean. I barely heard from you, Lewis.” 

His mouth opened as though he was about to speak, but was cut off when you stood up abruptly. You couldn’t stand to be near him another second, you needed to move away and give yourself the space to breathe, to think your next words through. Moving towards the kitchen, you paced behind the island as though it were a barrier, splitting yourself from the situation for a moment.  

You didn’t want to have this conversation right now, but it was too late, you were already at the edge of the cliff and there was nothing left to do but take the leap. 

“I know that’s how your life is. You’re always busy, always travelling, I understand that.” You began, thumbing the edge of the counter to ground yourself. “But, we used to talk all the time. You always made time for me, even if you’d hardly slept. Then after China, everything just…”

Lewis stayed quiet, but you could feel the shift in the air and the subtle drop in his posture, like he knew what was coming. 

You forced yourself to keep going, knowing that it was now or never. “Everything changed. You hardly messaged or called. You’d take days to reply and when you did, it was just…nothing. I kept telling myself you were just busy, tried to convince myself that this was normal, but honestly, all you did was give me enough crumbs to keep hanging on to whatever this was.”

He stood from his seat and stepped towards you. “It’s not like that-”

“Isn’t it?” You cut him off again, swallowing back the choking feeling in your throat. “This is what you do, isn’t it, Lewis? You fly girls out, make them feel special so you can get in their pants, then keep them just close enough so they can’t move on and you can reach out to them again when you’re feeling lonely. I know all of that.”

He shook his head, as though he was about to deny it, but the slump of his shoulders betrayed him.

“It sounds stupid, but I thought this was different. Maybe you cared about me more than that, but it was all the same. You took me to China, made me feel like I was important to you, fucked me, then just…nothing. Like it meant nothing to you, I meant nothing.” Your voice broke at the last syllable, blinking away the tears in your eyes.

“Don’t say that.” Lewis took another step forward as you finally allowed him a second to speak. “Don’t ever say that, you know it’s not true.”

“Do I?” You snapped, backing away before he could get too close. “Because I’ve been sitting with this for weeks. Checking my phone like some idiot, thinking about our time together and wondering if you were already moving on to the next girl-”

“Stop.” He said abruptly, the frustration in his voice causing it to crack just enough that you would notice. “Don’t even think that. It was everything to me. I thought about you every single day.”

You felt unsteady on your feet at his words, your heart pounding behind your ribs. Still, your voice stayed sharp. “Please, Lewis, don’t say shit you don’t mean just to make me feel better.”

Lewis looked startled by the shift, pausing on his path towards you. “I mean it.”

“Then where were you?” You spit out finally meeting his eyes. “This whole time, you’ve been treating me like I don’t exist, like I’m just another one of your girls that you reach out to when it’s convenient. Some people might be okay with that, but that’s not me. You don’t get to treat me that way, then show up here when something goes wrong and act like you care now.”

He closed his eyes as he took in your words, then released a low, deep breath.

“I know I disappointed you. I know I hurt you. I don’t deserve to stand here and tell you what this should mean, or how you should feel. I messed it up. You didn’t deserve to be left guessing like that after everything we shared, everything I felt.” He looked down at the floor, jaw clenched. “You were never just someone I reached for out of convenience. That weekend wasn’t casual to me. Honestly, I never wanted it to end. I woke up next to you and thought this is it.”

He touched a hand to the kitchen counter like he was still trying to steady himself. “It meant everything, you mean everything to me. I’ve felt it for a long time, but I didn’t know how to handle it without ruining our friendship. I kept telling myself we’d figure it out eventually, we’d have this conversation next time, then the next, but I couldn’t bring myself to say it. I acted like a coward scared of my own feelings, so I distanced myself. Now, I’ve let you down and I am so sorry for ever letting you doubt what you mean to me. You deserve so much more than that.”

The sincerity in his beautiful, glistening eyes made your knees weaken, the wall around you slowly crumbling as he rounded the kitchen island, removing the barrier between you.

“I’m not here just because of the photos. I’m here because I care about you, more than you know. More than I’ve ever said, more than I’ve shown you, and I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner.” Lewis admitted, standing in front of you and holding your gaze as though he had bared his soul to you.

The room felt quiet in the worst way, like everything had been said but nothing had really been settled. Your chest felt too tight, like your heart was caught between relief and devastation, as if it was trying to decide which way to break. He was saying everything you thought you wanted to hear, and somehow it wasn’t enough.

You had been falling for Lewis long before Shanghai. In every look, every late-night call, every moment he made you feel like you were the only person in the world. You told yourself it was just friendship, that he might never see you as anything more. Then, he took you halfway across the world, kissed you like you were made for him, held you like you were already his, and slept with you like the two of you had always been on this path. And after that, silence, distance, nothing but crumbs that left you starving for him.

Now here he was, saying everything you used to daydream about, standing in your apartment as if he hadn’t broken your heart by disappearing when you needed him most. Part of you couldn’t stop wondering if he’d just disappear again once the chaos faded. If he’d go back to his world, far away from you, and you’d be left holding the weight of this all over again. You didn’t know what was real, you didn’t know if he meant it, and you didn’t know how to forgive it.

Yet, even now with your heart torn open, you couldn’t stop wanting him.

“What are we even doing?” Your voice was shaky as you finally spoke through the silence. “Because we crossed a line, and I don’t know if we can come back from that. I don’t know if we could ever be friends again.”

The silence that followed wasn’t sharp, full of a deep ache and everything neither of you had dared to say. Then, Lewis lifted his hands between you with his palms open silently, offering them to you.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you glanced down, before hesitantly slipping your hands into his. His fingers closed gently around yours, as though he didn’t want to hold on too tightly. Slowly, he leaned closer until you could feel his breath, as the shield you’d been holding up in your mind gave way, not entirely, but enough to let the moment hold you.

“I don’t want to go back.” Lewis whispered with a small shake of his head. “I don’t want to pretend that nothing happened, like we didn’t feel what we felt.” 

His grip tightened lightly on your hands, squeezing them as he continued.

“I don’t want to lose you, ever. I want to be with you and I want to do it right.” His voice was steady now, declaring his intentions clearly.

Your heart ached at his words, your stomach stirring with butterflies and your shoulders dropping in submission. Even now, part of you still wanted to believe him, to fall into his arms and say that you wanted this too, like nothing else mattered.

However, the lingering fear in you resisted. You’d spent weeks trying to make sense of his distance, your heart circling back to him no matter what you distracted yourself with. Now, with everything laid bare between you, it felt like whiplash, as if you were finally being handed the thing you'd quietly dreamed of, only now it hurt to reach for it.

Your mind returned to the moments you’d shared with him on your trip together, the softness in his eyes and his affectionate touches. The way he made you feel like there was no one but you. The way this all fizzled out when you were separated by time and distance. Could you really believe his words, or was that all they would be? Just words and declarations that would mean nothing when the distance came between you. What did being with you mean to him? Could it truly be any different than the pain you’d been hiding in your heart the past weeks?  

“What does that even mean to you?” You mustered carefully through your breath. “Being with me? I can’t do this if it’s going to be the same as the past month.” 

There was no deflection in Lewis’ expression now, no calm mask to hide behind. Just a man stripped down by his feelings.

“It means no more grey area. No more dancing around what we feel or pretending to be something we’re not,” he explained, looking into your eyes as if he were speaking to your heart. “It means making time for you, every single day. It means I show up properly when I say I will, whenever you need me. That I don’t ever leave you wondering, that I show you how much you mean to me every chance I get. That I choose you, always.”

He paused, swallowing hard as he brought your joined hands to his chest.

“I know I can’t undo what’s already happened, but I want to make it up to you. All of it, if you’ll have me.”

There was no performance in him now, it was just Lewis, standing there with what seemed like a flicker of desperation in his eyes, like he didn’t know if he still had a place in your life. In that stillness, you saw it: the ache of a man who had already made space for you in his heart and was terrified he might have ruined it. Maybe that was what made it harder. 

“I’m not asking for an answer right now,” he added quietly. “Or even later. Not after how badly I’ve fucked this up. I just needed you to know how I really feel.”

The tight pull in your chest hurt more than ever. You hated how much you wanted to believe him, how badly you still wanted him, even after everything. But the war inside you was real too, and it wasn’t going to vanish just because the promises you’d dreamed about had finally arrived.

“I need time,” you replied, giving his hands a light squeeze. “I want to believe you, I really do…I just don’t know how to yet.”

He nodded with understanding, “Whatever you need, I’ll be here.”

Lewis stepped closer, lifted a hand to your face. His palm barely brushed your cheek, thumb smoothing just beneath your eye to brush away a stray tear that had slipped loose. You stayed quiet, leaning lightly into his touch.

His voice was soft when he finally spoke again. “You should try to get some rest.”

“Yeah.” You gave a small nod, feeling the exhaustion from all your emotions weighing on your shoulders suddenly.

The two of you remained in the kitchen, not wanting to move. There was no clock ticking, or distant city noise, just the low sound of the fridge and a silence that wrapped itself around you like a blanket too heavy to shake off. He kept his hand there for a moment longer, then slowly let it fall, but he didn’t step away.

“I can stay,” he added tentatively, as if he knew that you might say no. “Only if you want me to. I just don’t want you to be alone tonight.”

You hesitated before giving him another silent nod, not wanting him to leave, not wanting to be alone.

Neither of you said anything else, but a few moments later, after you'd quietly excused yourself and slipped into your room, you heard the faint rustle of him settling on the couch.

He was still here, and for now, that was enough.

Later, you lay in bed, but sleep didn’t come, not even close.

Your room was dim and still, the only light a soft glow from the moonlight outside slipping in through the edges of your curtains. You’d pulled the covers over yourself for comfort, but your body was tense beneath them, feeling too warm and restless. Your thoughts wouldn’t settle. Every time you closed your eyes, you heard Lewis’ voice again. You felt the warmth of his hands. You remembered the look in his eyes when he said he didn’t want to lose you.

It should’ve made things easier, simpler, but it didn’t.

You stared at the ceiling, willing yourself to sort through all the emotions that still rushed through you. The frustration, the disappointment, the lingering fear that everything he said would vanish the second he walked out your door again. Yet underneath it, was the quiet and persistent pull of having missed him so deeply it hurt.

He was just down the hall now, on your couch. A part of you couldn’t believe that he was actually there in your home, so close to you, yet so far. 

You shifted onto your side, then your back again. Your hand found the empty space beside you  where he could’ve been, but you knew if he had been, only a single moment of weakness would have led you to break.

I want to be with you. I don’t want to lose you.

He’d said it as if it had been sitting on his chest for a long time, waiting for the right moment to fall out.

For so long, being with him had felt like a dream you didn’t let yourself reach for. Then Shanghai happened, the trip, the kisses, the way it all felt like everything you had ever wanted, and afterwards, the silence had nearly undone you. Now, he was here, saying all the things you’d hoped and you didn’t know if you were more relieved or terrified.

What if he truly meant it? What if you wanted this too?

You turned onto your side, eyes fixed on the bedroom door. Your heart wouldn’t settle, knowing he was still out there in your living room. A small voice in your head wondered if he had secretly slipped out and left you behind, but you could feel his presence in the apartment.

Eventually, you pushed the blanket aside before you could talk yourself out of it and slid your feet to the floor, the ground cool beneath your toes. You didn’t bother with a robe or turning on the light. You just padded softly through the apartment, your heartbeat steady yet loud in your chest, as though it was tethered to him, coaxing you closer.

The living room was dark, save for the faint silver light sneaking through the windows. There he was, still there. Curled slightly on the couch, one arm tucked under his head, the other resting loosely across his middle. His chest rose and fell in the rhythm of sleep, peaceful, quiet.

You stood in the doorway, watching for a second too long. It didn’t feel real, not after everything. But there he was, he’d stayed.

You crept closer, unsure why you even needed to check. Maybe you just needed to see him, not on a screen, not in a message you re-read too many times, but here. 

Lewis shifted when he felt your presence, floating in and out of sleep. His eyes fluttered open and his lips curled into a small smile. “I thought you’d be asleep.”

You hesitated. “I couldn’t sleep.”

You lowered yourself to the floor beside the couch, resting your chin on the cushion near his arm. His cologne lingered on the fabric, faintly familiar, and almost dizzying. Your fingers toyed with the hem of the blanket, grounding yourself. Your stomach knotted and turned, unsaid truths hanging from the tip of your tongue, waiting to slip out, and you let them.

His hand reached out tentatively. He didn’t touch your skin, he just left it there, close enough that the invitation was clear. You looked down at his hand for a moment, then slipped your fingers into his.

“I hate how complicated this feels now,” you murmured, running your thumb along the side of his finger, the warmth of his skin sending a mild shiver through you.

“Me too, but we don’t have to figure it all out tonight.” He gave the slightest nod, voice quiet. 

He pushed himself up slightly, the blanket slipping off his shoulder as he lifted it just enough to offer you the space to crawl in and join him.

After a short few seconds of hesitation, you climbed carefully onto the narrow space on the couch. He opened his arms without a word, and you melted into them, tucking your head beneath his chin, your body curling into his like it had been waiting to do so for weeks. Despite the ache in your chest, every muscle in you relaxed in his arms.

“Take all the time you need, I’m not going anywhere,” he added.

This wasn’t how you had pictured your night. Not after the tears, argument, and weeks of uncertainty. However, his arms stayed around you, his hand occasionally brushing in slow, absent patterns over your shoulder like he couldn’t quite believe you were there either. 

Maybe that was a start.

You closed your eyes, letting out a breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding. His fingers stilled as you settled closer, your own hand lightly resting on the fabric of his shirt, just over his chest.

Neither of you spoke, but his hold on you didn’t waver. For the first time in a long time, you let yourself rest, knowing that whatever was coming would be dealt with tomorrow.

You weren’t sure when you fell asleep.

The last thing you remembered was the gentle rise and fall of Lewis’ chest, the scent of his cologne lingering on his shirt, and the comforting weight of his hand on your back. At some point, your body gave in, lulled to sleep in his arms.

When your eyes opened slowly, the living room was bathed in early light. Pale gold filtering through the curtains, casting a soft glow over your furniture. You blinked the blurriness from your vision, momentarily disoriented…until you felt the warmth beneath you shift slightly, and the memories of last night came flooding back.

Lewis was still there, you were curled against him, one leg draped over his, your arm tucked between you. His head rested against the back of the couch, tilted slightly, his braids loosened from his hair tie. His other arm still held you close, protective even in sleep.

You didn’t move, you didn’t want to, because even if things still felt complicated, even if your heart still felt sore in places you hadn’t known it could, this moment was real.

Your eyes drifted over his face, softened in rest sweetly, and your heart squeezed. All the frustration, the confusion, the pain hadn’t disappeared. It had shifted, as though the weight of it had moved, making space for what was to come.

You pulled back carefully, just enough to sit up. This made him stir slightly, his eyebrows creasing, before his brown eyes blinked open.  They were still bleary and tired, but when they found you, they warmed instantly.

“Hi,” he rasped, his voice deep and rough with sleep.

“Hey,” you whispered back, brushing a hand through your hair.

He sat up straighter, rubbing at his face. He looked at you for a moment longer, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to smile or not. Then he glanced away, adjusting his braids back into his hair tie, a quiet exhale slipping through his lips. 

The silence stretched for a short moment as you both sat on the sofa. You felt your stomach growl quietly, remembering you hadn’t eaten dinner the night before, and your appetite was catching up with you.

“You hungry?” you asked suddenly, rising to your feet. “I’ll make some breakfast.”

He blinked, surprised by the offer. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to,” you replied, your voice gentler this time. 

You turned toward the kitchen, trying to hide the way your heart fluttered stupidly at the sweet smile of appreciation he’d given you. Your mind was still a storm of questions, about what came next, about what this all meant, but for now, you pulled out the pan, reached for the flour, and let yourself move through the motions.

Lewis got up a few minutes later and joined you, helping without being asked. He passed you the spatula when you needed it, peeled a banana wordlessly, and found the plates from the right cupboard. It was quiet between you, a fragile silence like the calm after a thunderstorm, when everything was still soaked through but the sky had finally cleared.

You made him vegan pancakes, like you always used to joke you would. When you took a seat next to him, still wearing yesterday’s clothes and with sleep marks on your cheek, he looked at you like you had hung the moon and dotted the sky with stars yourself.

You took a bite, barely tasting the strawberry you were chewing, your nerves alight again in your body. You knew you couldn’t stay in this soft bubble forever. You’d have to talk soon, to decide.

Lewis complimented your cooking and ate slowly, savouring every bite as the two of you settled into quiet again. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but both of you knew what was coming next, and neither of you wanted to be the one to say it first.

You glanced up at him just as his phone buzzed on the kitchen island.

Lewis sighed, looked over the screen, and muttered, “Sorry, I have to take this.” He stood, already swiping to answer as he disappeared into the hallway.

Your heart sank into your stomach, dropping suddenly the second he picked up that phone. You stared at the space he’d left behind, the warmth of the moment slipping away. 

Of course. You’d let yourself believe it might be different this time, yet here he was, being pulled back into that world again. You reached for your mug, trying not to let it show, but your hand faltered slightly.

Barely a minute later, his footsteps returned. You didn’t look up at first, cutting into your pancake meticulously as though maybe if you acted normal, the hollow feeling in your chest wouldn’t show. Maybe if you kept your head down, it wouldn’t hurt so much that he’d left you there while his life outside called.

“Sorry about that.” He returned to his seat beside you, reaching for a sip of his coffee.

“It’s okay.” Your voice was low, just above a whisper as your lips curled at the edges, hiding behind a small smile.

Lewis tilted his head towards you while he set his mug down, watching you push a slice of strawberry across your plate. He switched his phone to Do Not Disturb and set it on the counter, like it was the least important thing in the world.

“I told them I’m not coming,” he explained gently, noticing your quietness.

Your eyes lifted to face him, listening as he spoke.

He rubbed the back of his neck, exhaling slowly. “I had a shoot scheduled this afternoon, but I postponed everything for the rest of the week.”

You felt your heart skip with a tiny flicker of hope. “You did?”

“Yeah.” His voice was soft as his lips stretched into a smile. “Because I needed to be here with you. Nothing else matters if I don’t get this right.”

There was a part of you that didn’t expect him to say that, still waiting for disappointment. A part that thought maybe the phone call was the beginning of him slipping away again. That you’d find yourself once more standing on the edge of something that never fully became yours. Despite this, he was sitting across from you like nothing in the world could pull him away. Like you were the priority.

You blinked down at the table, trying to find your voice while Lewis’ hands rested on the edge of the counter openly. His body leaned in just slightly, elbows braced and, his eyes fixed on you with patience. He was waiting, holding space for you. Letting you come to him in your own time.

No phone, no rushing, and definitely no leaving. Just the two of you, there.

For the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to really see it, to feel it. This wasn’t just pretty words or temporary affection. It wasn’t him checking in out of guilt or offering just enough to keep you close. It felt different, real, like he was actually here. He wanted to stay, regardless of his life outside of that moment.

Maybe this wasn’t another disappointment. Maybe this wasn’t another version of you hoping while he drifted further out of reach.

The ache in your chest didn’t disappear, but it softened just enough to let a sliver of hope in. The feeling you’d been trying to ignore because it felt safer to expect disappointment than to hope for something lasting.

The quiet kind of hope that didn’t rush in all at once but arrived slowly, gently, as if it were asking permission. Maybe it was worth giving this a chance.

But it couldn’t be like before. Not if it meant twisting yourself into someone smaller, someone more convenient. If this was going to be something, it had to be on your terms. It had to be mutual, with boundaries, balance, and a lot of care. With both of you in it fully, figuring it out side by side. All in.

You placed your utensils onto your plate carefully and drew in a breath, steadying yourself. Your pulse raced, thrumming in your ears while your stomach fluttered with butterflies. This was it.

“Lewis?” you began, scratching a nail lightly against the counter to distract yourself from the nervousness that coursed through your veins.

He looked up immediately, eyes soft and open as he gave you his full attention, the same way that always gave you butterflies.

“Let’s do it,” you said finally, breathless from the weight of your words.

Lewis’ posture shifted subtly, the tension in his shoulders loosening as if hope had started to slip in through the cracks. He didn’t interrupt or rush you though, only watched as you turned towards him.

“I want to try…us,” you spoke again, firmer this time, the words anchoring inside you. It almost felt as though you were dreaming as you continued. “But there’s a few things we need to agree on first for this to work.”

Lewis nodded, his eyes searching yours as if he couldn’t believe it either. “Anything.”

“I know what your life is like, but we need to be in this together. I need consistency,” you started. “I need to feel like we’re both all in, not like I’m chasing after you. No disappearing on me when you’re away.”

He gave you another nod, listening intently while you continued.

“Second, we always plan when we’ll see each other next. I hate uncertainty. It makes the distance more bearable if I know when I get to see you next.” Your voice trembled lightly as you finished. “And third, we keep things private. At first, at least, until we’re both ready. What happened with those photos…it felt like we lost control before we ever had a chance to figure things out between us. I can’t do that again, not without knowing we’re on the same page.”

His expression softened at that, his eyebrows pulling together with both guilt and understanding tangled into one. “Of course, I agree with all of it. We can take our time, we’ll figure this out together.”

This time, you believed him. There was no hesitation in his voice, just certainty that he wasn’t just agreeing for your sake, but because he meant every word too.

He held your gaze for a moment longer, then pushed back slightly on his seat. The metal legs scraped lightly against the floor as he shifted, knees parting just enough to make space in front of him. 

“Come here,” he whispered, his hands lifting, and arms opening in a quiet invitation.

You rose carefully, stepping between his legs and resting your hands on his broad shoulders. His own hands slid to your waist, holding you there like you were the only thing grounding him in the moment.

“I don’t want to lose you, Lewis.” You sighed, tracing your fingers along the neckline of his shirt. “We have to make this work.”

“We will, I promise,” he replied with confidence, his tone reassuring. “I don’t want to lose you either, ever.”

Your heart stuttered again as he repeated his words from the night before. It was everything you’d always wanted to hear, and he said it with so much sincerity swimming in his warm brown eyes. He would make room for you in his world and never ask you to shrink yourself to fit into it. You would work through it all together.

“So…” he started softly, sounding almost nervous, even now. His thumbs rubbed soft circles at your waist. “You’ll be mine?”

Your breath caught in your throat, a mild sting at your eyes while your belly filled with rushing butterflies. You didn’t hesitate though. You reached up, brushing your fingers along the smooth skin of his cheek before cupping his face with both hands. He leaned into your touch instantly, his long eyelashes fluttering shut, like you were the first thing that had calmed him in weeks.

“All yours,” you smiled, brushing your nose with his gently.

His eyes opened again, crinkling at the edges as his mouth pulled into a grin.

“Are you mine too?” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

His arms wrapped a little tighter around you, pulling you in until your foreheads touched. “Always.”

Your lips met a second later, moving together while you both struggled to contain your smiles. You melted into the kiss, your shoulders relaxing in a sensation of relief, while your heart swelled with hope, and pure joy. Lewis held you close as your arms twined around his neck, breathing each other in as your mouths stayed connected, making up for every kiss you’d missed the past month.

“We’re really doing this,” you murmured as though the words surprised even you, when you eventually pulled back.

His breath brushed over your lips when he responded, his eyes sparkling with excitement and almost disbelief that this was your reality now. “We are.”

The two of you remained in the kitchen, sharing soft giggles and peppering kisses between breaths. It felt like home again. 

You stayed wrapped in each other for a while, as if neither of you could believe you were finally here. Truly together this time. When you finally pulled apart, it didn’t feel like you had run out of time. It was a comfort, like you both knew there’d be more moments like this, and you didn’t have to hold onto it so tightly anymore with that ache in your chest.

Eventually, the real world crept in around the edges of your bubble. The smell of cold pancakes and forgotten mugs of coffee on the counter. Neither of you was ready to move just yet, but you did. Together.

The quiet clatter of plates and cutlery was the only sound between you as you cleared the kitchen together, brushing shoulders and glancing over at each other when you thought the other wasn’t looking. The air still held the weight of everything that had happened in the last 24 hours, but it had softened now, a warm excitement settling in its place.

You’d agreed to take your time and rebuild this the right way, but the way Lewis kept looking at you, his big hands full of dishes, braids tied back, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to reveal his muscular arms, made it all too tempting.

You bit back a smile as you rinsed the last plate, only for him to bump your hip gently with his. Not hard enough to startle you, just to remind you he was still there with his eyes locked on you.

“You’re staring.” You felt a flush spread across your cheeks, not meeting his eyes.

“Can’t help it,” he chuckled as he dried his hands off, handing you the towel once you were done rinsing.

When you looked up, you felt the air around you shift, a slow unfurling in your chest. A familiar flicker danced between you, electric and almost dizzying. You wiped your hands dry and placed the towel back on the counter, suddenly feeling somewhat shy under his gaze.

“Just wondering how I got so lucky,” he added, quieter now.

He reached for you, one hand curling around your waist, fingers splaying like he needed to feel you solid beneath his palm, to know this wasn’t just some dream he’d wake up from.

You could feel the warmth of him in every inch of space you weren’t touching, and the electric current coursing through your veins in the parts you were. You ran your hand up his forearm and over his flexed bicep, looping your arms around his neck. That small space between your lips and his that felt impossibly far, and you wanted nothing more than to close it.

Lewis dipped his head slowly, his lips brushing yours carefully as though you might disappear, and you replied without hesitation. Your knees weakened at the taste of him and your head spun when he drew your body to his. You clutched at the neck of his shirt, needing the anchor, needing him, and he exhaled against your mouth in relief, as though he’d been holding his breath all day.

His addictive lips kissed you deeper this time, like the floodgates had opened and neither of you knew how to stop. Your hands moved to his shoulders, fingers curling into the muscle there as if you still couldn’t quite believe he was real.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he breathed, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, then back to your lips. “Every day, every night. You were on my mind, every second.”

You nodded against him, eyes closed and your breath shaky. “Me too, you have no idea.”

His thumbs stroked lightly at your side as he kissed you again, and again, each one felt like  reassurance, as though he was trying to rebuild what had broken with his presence.

Your heart swelled, your eyes burning suddenly with emotion you hadn’t expected. “I hated being away from you, felt like I lost you,” your voice trembled on your lips. 

He pressed his forehead to yours again, holding your waist like he didn’t want to let go. “You could never lose me, sweetheart.”

You touched your lips to his in response. There were no words strong enough for the relief rushing through you, no language deep enough to explain the way it felt to have him here again, holding you as though you were the most precious thing in the world, like someone he never wanted to risk losing again.

His tongue slid against yours, tasting your mouth, and you didn’t even realise your feet had left the ground until you were on the kitchen island, his hands firm around your hips, his body between your legs, fitting against you like it was the only place he wanted to be.

Your legs circled around his waist, pulling him closer, needing to feel him. His hands skimmed your thighs as though he still couldn’t believe you were letting him touch you like this again. You tilted your head back slightly when his mouth found your neck, his warm breath trickling your skin as he whispered your name. 

As you tugged at the fabric of his shirt breathlessly, he broke away just long enough to let you pull it over his head and toss it onto the floor. The light streaming through the kitchen windows reflected the pearls around his neck, and caught the lines of his fit torso, the slope of his shoulders, the glow of his bronze, tattooed skin, the soft curve of his defined lips when he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered.

“Still can’t believe you’re mine.” He spoke through his breath, his mouth capturing yours again while his thumbs traced the outline of the waistband on your trackpants.

“And you’re mine.” You giggled softly, lifting your hips to allow Lewis to slide the pants down your legs, as heat stirred in your stomach.

Your bare skin touched back down on the cold surface of the island while his hands made their way up your thighs. His fingers traced the curve of your underwear, before slipping beneath the fabric to run along your soaked core. 

“So wet for me already, baby,” he groaned against your lips, coating his fingertips in your wetness as he relished the feeling of your sensitive parts.

Your breath grew shaky, grasping onto the muscle of his shoulder and leaning back to allow him better access while steadying yourself with your free hand. He built you up slowly, almost teasingly, while his kisses trailed down your jaw to your neck and collarbone. Carefully, he slid a finger into you, followed by a second while his thumb continued to work at your clit, drawing a gasp from your lips.

“That feel good, sweetheart?” Lewis asked, enjoying watching you tremble deliciously at his mercy.

All you could do was dig your nails into his shoulder, your eyes falling shut as ecstacy coursed through your body, edging close to your peak. It wasn’t long before you began to tighten around his fingers, and he suddenly removed his hand from you, shocking you from your daze and drawing a whimper from your lips. You watched him in confusion as he quickly removed your underwear, pushed your legs further apart and lifted your feet over his shoulders.

His hot tongue dipped into your folds, licking and swirling at your clit in tantalising motions that worked you back up. Fingers still wet from earlier slipped back into you while his other hand gripped your thigh. You managed to lean back further, holding yourself up against the cold counter while he lapped at your core hungrily, your mind melting into a complete blur at his precise movements.

A hazed whisper of his name left you as your head fell back lightly, your hips grinding onto his mouth and nose. Your toes curled and your stomach tightened, you were so close now.

“Eyes on me, beautiful,” he demands against your clit, sucking gently while his tongue flicks. “You taste so fucking good.”

You obeyed, meeting his sparkling eyes with your face flushed as he watched you with hunger, devouring you until you came undone. You shuddered with pleasure crashing over you, sending you over your peak as a breathy moan left your lips. Lewis continued his movements, helping you ride out your high onto his tongue and holding you close to push your high further when the sensitivity that followed overwhelmed you, your body jerking away involuntarily. 

Once you had worked your way down, he removed himself slowly, as if he didn’t want to separate from your core if it weren’t for the ache in his pants. His lips glistened with your wetness coated over his chin and beard, his proud smirk making your stomach flutter. He licked the remainder off his fingertips as you chewed your lower lip, your frantic breaths slowing.

Sitting back up, you reached for his shoulders and pressed your mouth to his in a wet kiss, tasting yourself on him while he tugged you close to the edge of the counter, his warm hands gripping your ass. He lifted you off and moved towards your sofa, taking a seat while you straddled him. You let him undress you further, pulling your top off to reveal your bare torso and running his palms down your back. 

Gently, he cupped a breast and flicked his thumb over your nipple, before taking it into his mouth and swirling his tongue over the sensitive nub. The heat between your legs only grew hotter as you felt his hardness through his pants beneath you, and you wanted nothing more than to have him inside you. 

“Please, Lewis.” You pulled at the waistband of his pants desperately, breathless under his touch.

Lewis chuckled lightly, his voice low as he helped you slip them off. “Greedy girl.”

You gave him a look and grabbed his jaw, lifting your hips as he positioned himself at your slit. A gasp left you both in unison once you sunk down onto his length until he bottomed out inside you, relief and excitement rippling through your bodies. Slowly, you began your movements, grinding against him at first, before raising your hips and dropping down as you built a rhythm. 

He grasped your ass while you rode him, pressing his forehead to yours as his breathing grew ragged. The low groans from his throat only encouraged you further as you slammed back down on him over and over. He was somehow even more beautiful when you were the one making him feel good. The way his brown eyes glazed over in pleasure, his eyebrows knitted together, and his luscious lips fell open, made your heart race as you pushed further.

The friction of your clit against his pelvis sent waves of hot tension pooling in your belly, so you bounced harder and gripped the fabric of the sofa behind him, while your other hand held onto his shoulder. Your lips brushed together, his breath on your skin as you moaned into each other’s mouths over the wet sound of your bodies coming together.

“Baby,” he hissed roughly, his head falling back against the cushion and his face contorting in bliss. “Slow down…you’re gonna make…”

Lewis’ voice was music to your ears as you felt yourself clamp down on him, your clit pulsing and bliss rushing through your veins, leaving only a cry to rip from you. Before you could finish riding out your high yourself, you found yourself laying against the soft cushion of your sofa, under him as he took back his control. He pressed his thumb to your clit and snapped his hips into yours, heightening your pleasure as you ground back against him and clutched the fabric to your side.

Soon after, he lifted your legs higher in order to push deeper into you and tangled your fingers together with his. You squeezed his hand and tilted your chin up to kiss him again, aching to be closer. 

“I missed you so much, Lew,” you breathed, all the emotions of the day flooding you as you poured your adoration into his lips.

“I missed you more, baby, I missed you so much,” he whispered, the words almost broken with sincerity, caressing your hair with his free hand. “I swear, I’ll never hurt you again.”

His eyes searched yours as he spoke, full of care, affection, and commitment, even with his bare body pressed to yours. This time, you believed him. You trusted him. 

Your fingers found his bearded chin, drawing him close and brushing your lips to his while he slowed his rocking to deep, languid movements. His hard length stroked inside you, engulfed by your slick core as he built you both up. You moved together like two halves remembering how to be whole again. It wasn’t long before you felt him throb inside you, and you both gasped in bliss, letting yourselves release with shaky moans.

After a moment, you both eased back onto the couch, still wrapped around each other, the quiet afterglow settling like a soft blanket. Lewis’ hands moved slowly along your spine, drinking you in silently. All that existed in your bubble now was the steady rhythm of your heartbeats in sync, the warmth of his breath ghosting over your skin, and the sweet way your lips met again.

You traced your fingertips along the ink of the tattoo on his collarbone, your voice low and shy as you murmured, “You know…I’ve felt something for you for a while now too.”

A mischievous glint flickered in his eyes as he grinned.

“Really?” he teased, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “Since when?”

A small smile stretched across your face, your cheeks warm when the memories bloomed in your mind.

“Hmm…honestly,” You began, pursing your lips as you thought it over. “Maybe that dinner in Austin. When we talked for hours, you told me about that space documentary you loved. Then you said you were planning to do astronaut training, which is just insane, by the way. But I’d never seen you like that before, that look in your eyes. I think that’s when it really hit me.”

Lewis’ gaze softened, his mouth curling as he recalled the memory. “I remember. You were so sweet, I didn’t want that night to end. I always loved talking to you.”

His fingers found your hair, threading through the strands as he tugged you just a little closer.

“Guess we’ve both been holding out on each other for too long.”

“Too long, yeah.” You laughed softly against his lips.

No more words were needed. The quiet between you filled with a calming sense of hope and relief, as those fading lines between what the two of you had been, and what you were now finally gave way.

And it was just the beginning…

Silverstone came soon after that.

The car had gone quiet as the gates of the paddock loomed ahead, only the low purr of the engine and the tense thrum of anticipation in the air. You sat to Lewis’ side, toying with the chain of your bag and watching through tinted windows as crowds of staff, guests, and media personnel entered the paddock.

Lewis was calm as always, a soft smile across his lips when you arrived at the VIP parking area. One hand rested on the wheel, the other was laced with yours, your fingers threaded together across the console loosely. Roscoe was seated in the back, panting away in excitement to step out of the car.

It had been months since the two of you had made the decision to be together. Life didn’t slow down by any means; Lewis’ race season continued with all the usual travel and pressure, while you found yourself immersed in your own projects. Despite the chaos, you’d spent more time together than ever, small moments of quiet between race weekends, following him to a few races discreetly, small trips and overnight stays that strengthened your bond as a couple.

You kept choosing each other, in the big things as well as the little. It wasn’t always easy though. There were long flights, late nights, and stretches of time apart, but what mattered most was that he always found his way back to you. No unfulfilled promises, but with his presence. In the way he held you when you couldn’t sleep, or how he never let a day go by without reminding you in any way he could, that you meant the world to him.

Lewis chose you, no matter how busy his world got. And every time he did, it made you fall in love with him all over again. 

Now, you were both ready to take the next step. You’d kept your relationship as private as possible, letting it grow and be yours only, but today was the day you stopped hiding. Now, it was time.

Lewis glanced over, stroking his thumb over yours gently. “Ready?”

Your fingers curled tighter around the chain of your bag, your heart thudding loud enough to drown out the noise outside. He noticed your hesitation.

“I can get one of the staff to take you in through the back if you’re not feeling it,” he offered, leaning closer to you, “No pressure, baby.”

His tone wasn’t just kind, it was understanding. He knew exactly how much this meant, how much you were giving him by even being here.

You turned to him, the butterflies in your chest fluttering hard against your ribs. He would never rush you or try to convince you into this. He was giving you an out, and trusting you to make your own choice.

You swallowed with a small nod, squeezing his hand. “No, I want to.”

Relief flickered across his face subtly. He pressed a kiss to your temple, then to your hand, before stepping out of the car. By the time he rounded to your side and opened your door, your palms had gone slightly clammy. Still, you climbed out slowly, blinking against the grey brightness of the British summer light. Lewis didn’t hesitate, lifting Roscoe out, then handing his keys to his assistant with a quiet word, and barely glancing back as the car was whisked away.

Then, you were walking in, together.

The crowd outside the paddock buzzed, your presence drawing attention even before you reached the gates. Scanning your passes, you both crossed the threshold into the Paddock and reconnected. You weren’t holding hands yet, but you walked closely with Roscoe on the other side of Lewis, his tail wagging away as you entered.

You were hyper-aware of everything: the upcoming wall of photographers and media, the buzz of cameras warming up, the click of shutters in rapid fire, and flashes popping as photos were snapped.

The outfit you’d carefully chosen after hours of indecision felt suddenly too noticeable. It was sleek, understated and perfectly tailored to balance the line between elegance and comfort for you. Lewis had helped you choose it, insisting it looked perfect on you. You trusted his eye, especially since he understood exactly what kind of scrutiny came with standing at his side.

As the two of you crossed into the heart of the Paddock, a pack of media swept past on the left, cameras already raised. As the wave of attention swelled, your breath caught and your spine stiffened instinctively. This was it, everyone around the world would know that you were the one who held Lewis’ heart. It was no longer just pictures of stolen, private moments in an airport, it was the two of you stepping into the light proudly, together. That was all it took.

Without a word, Lewis’ hand found yours. He didn’t look at you or make a show of it. Just held on, thumb brushing over your knuckles like a quiet I’m here.

You exhaled through your nose slowly, holding a small smile as you made your way towards the Ferrari motorhome. There were many calls of Lewis’ name around the Paddock, but he never flinched, offering a quick wave or nod when he caught the direction they were coming from.

At the motorhome, the team greeted him with nods and handshakes, a few heads turning toward you and Roscoe, who was enjoying himself being showered in scratches and pats all around. You greeted the team you’d become familiar with, before spotting Lewis’ parents and sharing hugs as you settled in. Lewis soon changed into his race suit once briefings had been completed and it was nearly time to get on the track.

The garage buzzed with motion and noise, tyre covers shifting, the clang of metal tools, voices calling over radios. The scent of asphalt and scorched rubber was one that had grown to feel almost like home.

Lewis emerged in his Ferrari race suit, helmet tucked under one arm. His hair was tied back as usual, revealing his handsome face, his jaw tight, brows drawn in the kind of laser-sharp concentration he wore before every race.

Yet, the moment his eyes found you again in the corner of the garage, everything about him softened. He crossed the garage without hesitation, weaving through engineers and mechanics as if nothing else in the world existed. When he stopped in front of you, his lips stretched into a faint smile.

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice cutting through the chaos like it was only meant for you. “You okay?”

You nodded, but your throat was tight, too full of feeling. You’d never seen him look more like himself and yet so entirely in his element. Calm, sure, and brilliant as always, but now, yours.

“I should be asking you that, it’s your home race,” you shook your head, your voice barely above a whisper.

Silverstone was his home race. The one he’d grown up dreaming about, watching from behind barriers long before he'd ever stepped onto the grid himself. The race he’d won nine times already, and was surely on his way to a tenth after qualifying P2.

“You nervous?” you asked softly.

He paused for half a breath, then took a small step closer, close enough for his chest to brush yours, and you could feel the warmth coming off his skin, even through layers of fabric.

A faint breath left him, half a laugh, half an exhale. “Yeah, it just…hits different today.”

“Because it’s home?”

“Because it’s been a rough season, seems like so much keeps going wrong. But I'm hopeful for this one,” he admitted quietly. “And because now you’re here, just makes me want it more.”

You felt your heart ache with a small tug at his honesty and the weight of it all sitting just beneath the surface. 

“I believe in you, Lewis. You’ve won this race nine times before, you can absolutely do it again.” You ran your hand over his chest, his brown eyes lighting up at your confidence in him.

Lewis touched a finger under your chin, his thumb resting beneath your lips as he leaned in, brushing his over yours. “That’s all I need.”

Your fingers held onto the side of his suit lightly, grounding yourself as the rush of background noise faded around you. You wanted to say it, right then. The words were right there, lingering at the tip of your tongue, waiting to spill out. I love you. It caught in your throat, too heavy with meaning to just throw into the noise right now. You wanted it to land at the right time, to mean everything.

Instead, you placed another kiss on his lips. “Good luck, baby.”

He pulled away, warmth in his eyes, the corner of his mouth lifting in that way that always made you feel like he was letting you in on a secret. Placing a kiss on your forehead, he slowly drifted back as he was called over.

And then he turned, stepped toward the car, and disappeared into the heartbeat of the race.

The race was tense, with Lewis overtaking to lead the race throughout the second half. The final few laps blurred into a rush of sound and colour, your breath catching with every corner, every sector time, your heart in your throat even as the team around you shouted and cheered, willing Lewis across the line first. You thumbed the flower on your bracelet as the anxiety tensed through you.

Then, the explosion of noise. Lewis crossed first. Lewis won.

The garage burst into excitement, engines roaring outside, crew jumping into each other’s arms, radios crackling with congratulations. The team yelled, hugged, threw headsets in the air. The kind of joy that only came with victory, and this one had meant everything. He hadn’t won all season, until now. At his home race.

His voice over the radio made your heart melt, the gratitude and exhilaration as he thanked the team and his supporters for believing in him. Tears had escaped down your cheeks while you watched him on the many screens, waving the Union Jack flag as he pulled in.

You barely registered your own hands shaking until someone touched your arm, gentle yet urgent.

A soft voice beside you called your name, and you turned to see Lewis’ mother Carmen. Her eyes glistened with tears, her cheeks flushed from joy. She took your hand and led you quickly through the chaos and out into the sunlight.

The paddock heat hit you like a wave. The sound of the crowd, the thunder of music and announcements overhead, the crackle of static from race control, it all blurred around you. You could barely breathe through the happiness in your chest.

Below the podium, you saw the sea of red: the Ferrari crew lined along the barrier, arms raised, waiting for their driver.

You barely had time to find your spot as Lewis completed his post race interviews and headed to cool down, before making his way over to your crowd behind the barrier. He was beaming, that bright, boyish, stunned kind of smile that only came from something he thought he might never get back.

He ran past the cameras, past the media, past the security still trying to catch up. He sprinted straight for the team again as he had upon securing his win, laughing and shouting, pulling his engineers and mechanics into wild hugs while others patted him on the back

Then came his parents.

Anthony caught him first, wrapping him into a firm, almost bone-crushing hug, murmuring words you couldn’t hear over the roar or excitement into his ear as he nodded. Carmen threw her arms around him next, kissing his cheeks through tears, smoothing his braided hair as though he was still her boy.

Lewis’ eyes searched for you, and you didn’t move, because the second he saw you, standing just behind the barrier, eyes filled with tears and sunlight, he moved straight to you. His face was flushed, his beautiful eyes shining with more than victory.

When he reached you, he pulled you into him immediately. You didn’t even realise you were crying until his hands cradled the back of your head, dipping his head forward. He was breathless, wild with joy, and as the crowd around you erupted into further celebration, he kissed you. Deep and fast, full of adrenaline, his fingers curling into your hair like he needed to hold onto something solid.

The world around you blurred and you heard the cacophony of camera shutters flood your ears, everyone capturing the moment suddenly.

When he pulled back, his forehead pressed to yours briefly, and his voice cracked with emotion. 

“I love you.”

The words hit you like a tidal wave, your heart skipping a beat as it raced behind your ribs. You didn’t have time to fully take it in, not with the adrenaline still thundering through your veins, the noise around you, and the cameras flashing. They sank straight through your chest anyway, sharp and soft all at once. Your lips parted, your breath catching, because you felt it too. You’d been feeling it, carrying it around with you, hanging from your tongue and aching to be let out.

You wanted to say it back, but before the words could leave your mouth, he was pulled away,  engulfed by a rush of red and celebration, the team wrapping him in hugs and shouts. You watched him leave, dazed as your fingertips still tingled from where he’d touched you, your mouth still parted with the words you hadn’t been able to give him yet.

He didn’t look back for a response, just saying it had been enough for him.

But for you, the moment hung in the air, because you knew, without question, the very next time you saw him, you were going to say it. You had to.

Before you knew it, there he was again.

Lewis was announced as the winner, and he stepped onto the top step of the podium, the number one painted bold beneath his feet, the crowd’s cheers swelling as he stood tall against the backdrop of flags and ceremony. The anthem hadn’t started just yet, that sacred pause before the world erupted in celebration. In that moment, before a trophy was lifted or champagne was sprayed, his eyes searched the sea of faces in front of him.

His eyes swept across the crowd, taking it in like he always did, until they found you.

Then, everything shifted.

His shoulders eased, his smile softened, love blooming behind his eyes. It wasn’t the usual, dazzling grin he wore for the world or the victory smile.

This one was yours.

He winked down at you and your heart squeezed in your chest, so tight it almost hurt. The tears that had been uncontrollably escaping since the moment he crossed the line welled again. You reached up instinctively, fingers brushing beneath your eyes, trying to ground yourself in the moment.

You blew him a kiss, lips trembling but sure, and mouthed the words that had been lingering on your tongue all day.

“I love you.”

They were three silent words across a sea of celebration, but when they reached him, you saw the way they landed. Somehow, his smile grew even further and you were sure he might pop from all the excitement, especially knowing that the woman he loved, loved him too.

Soon after, champagne burst into the air around him, painting the podium in silver and light. Music blared as he celebrated with everyone, spraying his champagne down into the crowd as you shielded yourself. You caught his eyes again, soaked with celebration.

In the middle of all of it, the history, the headlines, the high of another win, it was still just the two of you.

And this time, you weren’t hiding.

No more grey areas.

No more waiting.

Just you and him.

Out in the light, at last.

Together.

Taglist: @sltwins @ernegren @sher-ni @skzvibes-blog @rageshots @esw1012🤍🤍

[knowinglewis]

So I have a little surprise two part epilogue/sequel I’m currently working on for Fading Lines called Clarity, which I am SO excited to share in the coming days!!

It’s going to be another emotional rollercoaster, as in I’ve already cried twice while writing it oop 😭

I have to ask though, would anyone be opposed if I wrote a Joshua Pearce x Reader one shot fic 👀 I loved him so much in the movie and Damson is so damn FINE like LOOK AT THIS MAN

I have a whole idea in my head for it but I can’t decide if I should write it or not! Any thoughts??

[knowinglewis]

Fading Lines Series Masterlist

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader Summary: The lines between friendship and something more start to blur between you and Lewis when after invites you to his first race weekend with Ferrari. Story warnings: Angst, jealousy, anxiety, yearning. Lots and lots of FLUFF!! Eventual smut. No use of Y/N.

Chapters:

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Clarity (Epilogue)

Part One

Part Two (Coming soon)

[knowinglewis]

❤️.

[knowinglewis]

I can’t lie, I feel so lost now that this series has finished. I loved writing it so much, it came from an idea that lingered in my mind after watching the Aus GP, and I couldn’t resist bringing it to life when every scene kept playing in my mind!

This was my first time writing for Lewis and for F1, and it’s been so much more fun than I anticipated! Your kind messages and comments on the series have been so encouraging, I’m forever grateful for every one of you that took the time to read my little fic 🤍🤍

I feel a bit empty now knowing this one has ended, and I do have a cute idea for an epilogue in mind, but it needs some fleshing out so might take some time until it feels right!

Otherwise, I have a Lewis x reader x Charles love triangle storyline in mind set in a Bridgerton AU, which I’ve already started writing purely for my own indulgence, but it will be posted very soon for those interested!

Thank you to everyone who has been there with me on this little journey and for reading my little fic! I cannot wait to share more with you! 🥰❤️

Fading Lines

Part one/Part Two/Part Three/Part Four/Part Five/Final Part

Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Summary: The lines between friendship and something more start to blur between you and Lewis when after invites you to his first race weekend with Ferrari.

Word Count: 13,256

Warnings: ANGST, arguing, anxiety, yearning, overthinking. Some smut, but tooth aching sugar sweet FLUFFFFF! No use of Y/N.

A/N: WELP. Here we are my loves! This series has come to an end, and my apologies for the delay in getting the finale to you. It was a labour of love and I truly hope you all enjoy it! I'm really sad to finish this series, though I could be tempted to write an epilogue chapter too, but just unsure how I want that to look yet! From the bottom of my heart thank you all SO SO SOOOOOOO insanely much for reading this series and sticking with me through this journey! Please let me know your thoughts on it or if there's anything you'd like to see next! 🤍

Lewis said he needed to see you, that he was coming.

The words kept echoing in your head, looping louder than the doubts trying to creep in beneath them. You hadn’t asked questions, hadn’t asked if he was already on the way, or if he was still just making up his mind. You didn’t even know where he was flying from, but he sounded sure, as if he had already made the decision before the phone rang.

Still, a part of you couldn’t help it, hesitation had already settled somewhere beneath your ribs. What if he didn’t come? What if this was just another almost?

You blinked hard and pushed the thought away. You needed to move.

You stood up too quickly, your limbs stiff, and your breath shaky as you walked through your apartment. The place was a mess in that sudden, microscopic way where everything seemed messy when you knew someone else was going to be looking. You started in the living room, gathering the cardigan draped over the armrest, the pair of socks kicked under the coffee table, the half-finished cup of tea now gone cold. 

You moved on instinct, straightening cushions, gathering mugs, wiping surfaces. The kind of pointless cleaning you did when your body needed distraction, because your mind was already spiraling from the messiness of the morning.

You were halfway through wiping down the kitchen bench when your phone buzzed on the counter, a text from Lewis appearing across the screen.

Landing just after 8. Should be at yours by 9.

You stared at the message until the screen dimmed, before reading it again. He was actually coming.

You replied with a simple, "Okay. See you soon." But you held the phone in your hand for a long time after, like it was grounding you.

Then came the other part. Isabella’s voice had been sharp and clear when you called her later that afternoon: “Deactivate your socials. Or go private. Whatever you do, stop giving them access.”

You sat on the edge of your bed, your laptop balanced across your knees. Instagram was first, you scrolled through the flood of DMs and tags with your stomach twisting. People had already seen the photos of you at the airport, along with other photos that had surfaced of you at the Melbourne race with Isabella and Raye.

Some comments were kind, complimenting you and how cute you looked with Lewis. Some were curious, wanting to know more about your relationship. Others weren’t, others were horrified at the sight of their celebrity crush being spotted with his lips on some woman. Especially after only ever being spotted walking side by side with his past flings, or within groups with friends, since his public split from his long time ex. This time, it was right in all of their faces, your hands on each other and your lips connected.

You didn’t let yourself linger though, you went private. Turned off tags, disabled comments, deleted one or two posts without thinking too hard about it. You resisted the urge to scroll through your endless DMs, some with messages of support, while others sending all forms of threats and hatred towards you for stealing their dream man. Then, you moved on to your other socials with the same process. Lock it down, and delete anything you didn’t want seen, especially posts that included your family or your workplace. 

When you closed your laptop, the room felt quieter, less exposed.

The clock read 7:10pm.

You still had time before he arrived, though now that you had stopped moving, your hands had started shaking again. You stepped into the shower, turned the water hot, and stood under the spray for as long as your skin could stand it. It didn’t calm you completely, but it helped you feel a little more refreshed.

By the time you were dry and dressed, in soft track pants and a loose top, you felt like you’d done everything you could. The apartment was clean, you were clean, and your notifications were finally silent.

Yet still, doubt crawled its way back in.

What if something changed? What if he didn’t show?

You tried not to look at the clock again, but you always did. 7:52. 8:06. 8:19.

You lit a candle, then blew it out five minutes later because the scent made your stomach turn. You poured a glass of water, drank half, then sat on the couch with your legs pulled up and your phone resting in your palm.

It buzzed again just before 8:40pm with a text from Lewis.

I’ll be there soon

Your breath caught in your throat. The doubt didn’t vanish, but it softened with a flicker of hope.

You typed out an “Okay,” then deleted it and sent a heart instead. Something simple, and almost safer.

Then, you waited.

You must have closed your eyes for just a moment.

The TV played something you weren't really watching, just background noise to keep your mind from spinning too fast. You'd stretched out on the couch with a throw blanket draped loosely over your legs, your phone resting next to you, and the soft sound of the room lulling you into a light, uneasy sleep.

It wasn’t a peaceful sleep, not with your body still holding all that tension in your shoulders, your jaw tight even as you drifted off. You didn’t dream, you only floated somewhere between exhaustion and the heaviness of the day.

A knock on the door pulled you back to reality.

You blinked awake, heart fluttering in your chest for a split second, unsure whether you’d imagined it. Until another softer knock, like he didn’t want to startle you.

You sat up quickly, the blanket sliding off your lap as you scrambled to your feet, the room spinning for a second before settling.

He was here.

You crossed the apartment in a blur, your heart pounding in your ears as you reached for the door, fingers suddenly cold against the handle. You paused for half a breath, just to steel yourself.

Then you opened it, and he was there.

Standing under the low glow of the hallway light, his braids tied back as usual, eyes shadowed from the long travel day. He looked exhausted, but still his warm, calm self.

In one hand, he held a paper bag with the logo of your favourite local takeaway place printed on the side. In the other, a small bunch of flowers, your favourite kind, the same ones he’d once sent you for your birthday, you didn’t think he’d even remembered. They weren’t perfectly arranged or extravagant, but they were thoughtful and beautiful.

You froze in the doorway. All the noise, the doubt, the what-ifs from the last few days slammed into your chest in one wave. He had come, he was standing in front of you, carrying comfort in both hands and looking at you as though you were the only thing that mattered in the world. 

“Hi,” he greeted quietly, his voice rough, like maybe he didn’t trust his voice either.

You barely heard it though.

You felt your heart crack in your chest, a soft unraveling that started in your ribcage and spread all the way to your throat. You’d held it together all day, hours of silence, tension, of holding your breath against the noise online, the doubts in your mind, the uncertainty that had followed you like a shadow from the moment you’d stepped away from him at the airport.

Now, he was here, and that was all it took.

You stepped forward without a word, reaching for him before your mind could second-guess it. The bouquet crinkled at your side, the takeaway bag rustling quietly as he adjusted to keep them both from getting crushed. His arms came around you, the weight anchoring you instantly like it had been waiting for you.

Your cheek pressed to his chest, and the tears came silently, burning hot against your skin. You didn’t sob, didn’t shake. You just let go, letting yourself feel how much you’d needed him. How much you hated the space that had formed between you. How terrified you’d been that he’d stay away while you struggled with this pain alone.

“I’ve got you,” Lewis whispered against your hair, his voice gentle with an ache of its own. “I’m here, sweetheart.”

His hand rubbed slow circles between your shoulder blades, the warmth easing your pain. His voice was steady, but you could feel the tension in him too, his heart beating faster, his breathing uneven.

You didn’t know how long you stood like that, pressed against him in the doorway, the night quiet around you. However, for the first time since everything fell apart, you felt yourself start to breathe properly again.

Eventually, you pulled back, your cheek still damp, and your fingers trembling slightly where they clung to the front of his shirt. You stepped out of his arms with a soft inhale, brushing at your eyes even though he’d already seen you like that with a quiet apology. He let you go slowly, hand trailing down your back until it fell away completely.

“Come in,” you murmured, your voice hoarse. “It’s cold out here.”

Lewis nodded and stepped inside. The hallway light caught on the curve of his cheekbone, highlighting the exhaustion in his handsome features. His shoulders were heavy with travel, yet he always managed to look as perfect as ever. He set the takeaway bag gently on the kitchen bench, then placed the flowers down beside it.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d be hungry,” he remarked after a short moment, quiet as though unsure if it was safe to speak yet. “But I remember you said this place was your favourite.”

He remembered. It was only something you’d said offhandedly months ago as a recommendation if he ever visited. You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. You could feel the pressure building again just beneath the surface, with grief, confusion, the ache of caring too much and not knowing where to put it.

You crossed to the kitchen slowly and helped unpack the containers, your movements automatic. He was close but kept a respectful distance, as if he wasn’t sure where your boundaries were anymore. You didn’t know either.

The food smelled good, but your stomach was still tight and unsettled, your appetite completely gone. You arranged the bouquet in a vase just to keep your hands busy from fidgeting anxiously. He watched you for a moment, but didn’t comment.

You sat on the couch with him, though it felt like a silent agreement rather than comfort. Lewis set the food down between you, and offered you a fork.

You shook your head gently. “I’m not hungry, thank you.”

His eyebrows creased together, just slightly in concern. Still, he didn’t push. 

You let your eyes trail over him, taking him in as words reeled in your mind of what to say. He looked tired, like been carrying more than just a long travel day. You wondered when he’d last slept properly, whether he’d eaten at all before this. Whether he’d sat on that plane wondering if you’d even open the door.

Neither of you spoke for a few minutes, but it wasn’t the good kind of silence this time. It wasn’t comforting or soft. It pressed in from the edges, heavy in a thick tension that drowned the words from your mouth. It was the kind of silence that existed between two people trying to find their way back to each other, but unsure if they were supposed to.

You pulled the blanket back over your legs, suddenly cold again. Not from the air, but from how close he was without being close enough. From how badly you wanted to lean into him again, but how afraid you were of what might happen if you did.

Lewis had picked at the meal for a while, then given up too. He sat with his elbows on his knees, staring down at his hands. He looked like he wanted to say something, but didn’t know how to begin.

Until finally, he cleared his throat, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry.”

Your gaze dropped to your fingers, clutching the fabric of the blanket at your thighs as he continued.

“I didn’t want any of this to happen to you.”

The apology landed softly inside your heart, but it didn’t settle anything yet. It didn’t ease your stress or diminish the fact that your entire life had been turned upside down overnight.

He glanced over at you, then back at the floor. “I know it’s bad right now.” His attempt at positivity fell flat. “But…things like this move fast. It won’t always be like this.”

You turned toward him slowly, disbelief building like a slow-moving wave.

“Bad?” You laughed bitterly, your voice sharp. “You think it’s just going to disappear? Something I just have to wait out until everyone gets bored?”

He hesitated. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No?” You sat up straighter, a sharp edge slicing into your voice. “Because that’s what it sounds like. You think this is just part of the deal?”

“I’m just trying to say it won’t always feel like this,” he replied carefully. “That there’s a way through it. I’m not saying it’s nothing.”

You stared at him, heat prickling at your eyes and your heart pounding in your ears. “No, Lewis. I’ve seen what happens to girls who get caught near drivers let alone kissing one. The vile comments, assumptions, death threats. Everyone turning your life into a spectacle out of nowhere. I’m not famous, I don’t have a team protecting me like you do. They’ve found so much of my life, they’ve posted photos of me from years ago and called me things I can’t even say out loud.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again. His jaw tightened, but he didn’t interrupt.

“You’re Lewis Hamilton. You’ll get a few questions from the media about being off the market or something, then everyone will move on like they usually do. Meanwhile, my entire life has been turned upside down.” You went on, your voice rising in sharp, uneven bursts. 

“I knew spending time with you came with this risk, but it’s different when it’s actually happening. They didn’t just see us hanging out, they saw a very private moment. It’s not a hypothetical anymore, it’s real now and it’s fucking terrifying.”

Your chest was heaving now, fingers curled in your lap. You couldn’t look at him after you’d spilled out the words you’d been holding in, the tears stinging your eyes slowly rolling down your cheeks.

Lewis leaned forward against his knees, running a hand down his face. “I didn’t realise it got that bad. That they found so much and people were-”

“Digging into my life?” you finished for him, your voice splintering. “Yeah.”

His gaze snapped up and guilt flashed across his face, but he couldn’t meet your eyes.

You didn’t look at him either, you couldn’t bring yourself to. You stared ahead like the air in front of you might break open and swallow you whole. “They found everything. People I haven’t spoken to since high school have messaged me. My parents called me in a panic. My boss called me. Do you know how humiliating that is?”

He didn’t speak, but you could feel him watching you. You wished he’d stop.

“I don’t know what to do,” you whispered. 

He rubbed his hand over his jaw. “I should’ve been here sooner. I called you as soon as I saw it.”

“I know,” you started, swallowing past the pain in your throat. “It doesn’t really change anything though, does it? Everything is already out there, you’re too late.”

“I’m here,” he spoke quickly, like it was the only thing he could cling to. “I got on a flight the moment I could. I-”

“But where were you the last five weeks?” Your voice wavered, but the anger underneath it didn’t as the question you’d been holding in your chest finally reached the surface.

His eyebrows pulled together as he explained, “I was working, my schedule was packed. The triple header, and every other second was just filled with something.”

“Yes, I’m well aware of that.” You muttered in response. “That’s not what I mean. I barely heard from you, Lewis.” 

His mouth opened as though he was about to speak, but was cut off when you stood up abruptly. You couldn’t stand to be near him another second, you needed to move away and give yourself the space to breathe, to think your next words through. Moving towards the kitchen, you paced behind the island as though it were a barrier, splitting yourself from the situation for a moment.  

You didn’t want to have this conversation right now, but it was too late, you were already at the edge of the cliff and there was nothing left to do but take the leap. 

“I know that’s how your life is. You’re always busy, always travelling, I understand that.” You began, thumbing the edge of the counter to ground yourself. “But, we used to talk all the time. You always made time for me, even if you’d hardly slept. Then after China, everything just…”

Lewis stayed quiet, but you could feel the shift in the air and the subtle drop in his posture, like he knew what was coming. 

You forced yourself to keep going, knowing that it was now or never. “Everything changed. You hardly messaged or called. You’d take days to reply and when you did, it was just…nothing. I kept telling myself you were just busy, tried to convince myself that this was normal, but honestly, all you did was give me enough crumbs to keep hanging on to whatever this was.”

He stood from his seat and stepped towards you. “It’s not like that-”

“Isn’t it?” You cut him off again, swallowing back the choking feeling in your throat. “This is what you do, isn’t it, Lewis? You fly girls out, make them feel special so you can get in their pants, then keep them just close enough so they can’t move on and you can reach out to them again when you’re feeling lonely. I know all of that.”

He shook his head, as though he was about to deny it, but the slump of his shoulders betrayed him.

“It sounds stupid, but I thought this was different. Maybe you cared about me more than that, but it was all the same. You took me to China, made me feel like I was important to you, fucked me, then just…nothing. Like it meant nothing to you, I meant nothing.” Your voice broke at the last syllable, blinking away the tears in your eyes.

“Don’t say that.” Lewis took another step forward as you finally allowed him a second to speak. “Don’t ever say that, you know it’s not true.”

“Do I?” You snapped, backing away before he could get too close. “Because I’ve been sitting with this for weeks. Checking my phone like some idiot, thinking about our time together and wondering if you were already moving on to the next girl-”

“Stop.” He said abruptly, the frustration in his voice causing it to crack just enough that you would notice. “Don’t even think that. It was everything to me. I thought about you every single day.”

You felt unsteady on your feet at his words, your heart pounding behind your ribs. Still, your voice stayed sharp. “Please, Lewis, don’t say shit you don’t mean just to make me feel better.”

Lewis looked startled by the shift, pausing on his path towards you. “I mean it.”

“Then where were you?” You spit out finally meeting his eyes. “This whole time, you’ve been treating me like I don’t exist, like I’m just another one of your girls that you reach out to when it’s convenient. Some people might be okay with that, but that’s not me. You don’t get to treat me that way, then show up here when something goes wrong and act like you care now.”

He closed his eyes as he took in your words, then released a low, deep breath.

“I know I disappointed you. I know I hurt you. I don’t deserve to stand here and tell you what this should mean, or how you should feel. I messed it up. You didn’t deserve to be left guessing like that after everything we shared, everything I felt.” He looked down at the floor, jaw clenched. “You were never just someone I reached for out of convenience. That weekend wasn’t casual to me. Honestly, I never wanted it to end. I woke up next to you and thought this is it.”

He touched a hand to the kitchen counter like he was still trying to steady himself. “It meant everything, you mean everything to me. I’ve felt it for a long time, but I didn’t know how to handle it without ruining our friendship. I kept telling myself we’d figure it out eventually, we’d have this conversation next time, then the next, but I couldn’t bring myself to say it. I acted like a coward scared of my own feelings, so I distanced myself. Now, I’ve let you down and I am so sorry for ever letting you doubt what you mean to me. You deserve so much more than that.”

The sincerity in his beautiful, glistening eyes made your knees weaken, the wall around you slowly crumbling as he rounded the kitchen island, removing the barrier between you.

“I’m not here just because of the photos. I’m here because I care about you, more than you know. More than I’ve ever said, more than I’ve shown you, and I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner.” Lewis admitted, standing in front of you and holding your gaze as though he had bared his soul to you.

The room felt quiet in the worst way, like everything had been said but nothing had really been settled. Your chest felt too tight, like your heart was caught between relief and devastation, as if it was trying to decide which way to break. He was saying everything you thought you wanted to hear, and somehow it wasn’t enough.

You had been falling for Lewis long before Shanghai. In every look, every late-night call, every moment he made you feel like you were the only person in the world. You told yourself it was just friendship, that he might never see you as anything more. Then, he took you halfway across the world, kissed you like you were made for him, held you like you were already his, and slept with you like the two of you had always been on this path. And after that, silence, distance, nothing but crumbs that left you starving for him.

Now here he was, saying everything you used to daydream about, standing in your apartment as if he hadn’t broken your heart by disappearing when you needed him most. Part of you couldn’t stop wondering if he’d just disappear again once the chaos faded. If he’d go back to his world, far away from you, and you’d be left holding the weight of this all over again. You didn’t know what was real, you didn’t know if he meant it, and you didn’t know how to forgive it.

Yet, even now with your heart torn open, you couldn’t stop wanting him.

“What are we even doing?” Your voice was shaky as you finally spoke through the silence. “Because we crossed a line, and I don’t know if we can come back from that. I don’t know if we could ever be friends again.”

The silence that followed wasn’t sharp, full of a deep ache and everything neither of you had dared to say. Then, Lewis lifted his hands between you with his palms open silently, offering them to you.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you glanced down, before hesitantly slipping your hands into his. His fingers closed gently around yours, as though he didn’t want to hold on too tightly. Slowly, he leaned closer until you could feel his breath, as the shield you’d been holding up in your mind gave way, not entirely, but enough to let the moment hold you.

“I don’t want to go back.” Lewis whispered with a small shake of his head. “I don’t want to pretend that nothing happened, like we didn’t feel what we felt.” 

His grip tightened lightly on your hands, squeezing them as he continued.

“I don’t want to lose you, ever. I want to be with you and I want to do it right.” His voice was steady now, declaring his intentions clearly.

Your heart ached at his words, your stomach stirring with butterflies and your shoulders dropping in submission. Even now, part of you still wanted to believe him, to fall into his arms and say that you wanted this too, like nothing else mattered.

However, the lingering fear in you resisted. You’d spent weeks trying to make sense of his distance, your heart circling back to him no matter what you distracted yourself with. Now, with everything laid bare between you, it felt like whiplash, as if you were finally being handed the thing you'd quietly dreamed of, only now it hurt to reach for it.

Your mind returned to the moments you’d shared with him on your trip together, the softness in his eyes and his affectionate touches. The way he made you feel like there was no one but you. The way this all fizzled out when you were separated by time and distance. Could you really believe his words, or was that all they would be? Just words and declarations that would mean nothing when the distance came between you. What did being with you mean to him? Could it truly be any different than the pain you’d been hiding in your heart the past weeks?  

“What does that even mean to you?” You mustered carefully through your breath. “Being with me? I can’t do this if it’s going to be the same as the past month.” 

There was no deflection in Lewis’ expression now, no calm mask to hide behind. Just a man stripped down by his feelings.

“It means no more grey area. No more dancing around what we feel or pretending to be something we’re not,” he explained, looking into your eyes as if he were speaking to your heart. “It means making time for you, every single day. It means I show up properly when I say I will, whenever you need me. That I don’t ever leave you wondering, that I show you how much you mean to me every chance I get. That I choose you, always.”

He paused, swallowing hard as he brought your joined hands to his chest.

“I know I can’t undo what’s already happened, but I want to make it up to you. All of it, if you’ll have me.”

There was no performance in him now, it was just Lewis, standing there with what seemed like a flicker of desperation in his eyes, like he didn’t know if he still had a place in your life. In that stillness, you saw it: the ache of a man who had already made space for you in his heart and was terrified he might have ruined it. Maybe that was what made it harder. 

“I’m not asking for an answer right now,” he added quietly. “Or even later. Not after how badly I’ve fucked this up. I just needed you to know how I really feel.”

The tight pull in your chest hurt more than ever. You hated how much you wanted to believe him, how badly you still wanted him, even after everything. But the war inside you was real too, and it wasn’t going to vanish just because the promises you’d dreamed about had finally arrived.

“I need time,” you replied, giving his hands a light squeeze. “I want to believe you, I really do…I just don’t know how to yet.”

He nodded with understanding, “Whatever you need, I’ll be here.”

Lewis stepped closer, lifted a hand to your face. His palm barely brushed your cheek, thumb smoothing just beneath your eye to brush away a stray tear that had slipped loose. You stayed quiet, leaning lightly into his touch.

His voice was soft when he finally spoke again. “You should try to get some rest.”

“Yeah.” You gave a small nod, feeling the exhaustion from all your emotions weighing on your shoulders suddenly.

The two of you remained in the kitchen, not wanting to move. There was no clock ticking, or distant city noise, just the low sound of the fridge and a silence that wrapped itself around you like a blanket too heavy to shake off. He kept his hand there for a moment longer, then slowly let it fall, but he didn’t step away.

“I can stay,” he added tentatively, as if he knew that you might say no. “Only if you want me to. I just don’t want you to be alone tonight.”

You hesitated before giving him another silent nod, not wanting him to leave, not wanting to be alone.

Neither of you said anything else, but a few moments later, after you'd quietly excused yourself and slipped into your room, you heard the faint rustle of him settling on the couch.

He was still here, and for now, that was enough.

Later, you lay in bed, but sleep didn’t come, not even close.

Your room was dim and still, the only light a soft glow from the moonlight outside slipping in through the edges of your curtains. You’d pulled the covers over yourself for comfort, but your body was tense beneath them, feeling too warm and restless. Your thoughts wouldn’t settle. Every time you closed your eyes, you heard Lewis’ voice again. You felt the warmth of his hands. You remembered the look in his eyes when he said he didn’t want to lose you.

It should’ve made things easier, simpler, but it didn’t.

You stared at the ceiling, willing yourself to sort through all the emotions that still rushed through you. The frustration, the disappointment, the lingering fear that everything he said would vanish the second he walked out your door again. Yet underneath it, was the quiet and persistent pull of having missed him so deeply it hurt.

He was just down the hall now, on your couch. A part of you couldn’t believe that he was actually there in your home, so close to you, yet so far. 

You shifted onto your side, then your back again. Your hand found the empty space beside you  where he could’ve been, but you knew if he had been, only a single moment of weakness would have led you to break.

I want to be with you. I don’t want to lose you.

He’d said it as if it had been sitting on his chest for a long time, waiting for the right moment to fall out.

For so long, being with him had felt like a dream you didn’t let yourself reach for. Then Shanghai happened, the trip, the kisses, the way it all felt like everything you had ever wanted, and afterwards, the silence had nearly undone you. Now, he was here, saying all the things you’d hoped and you didn’t know if you were more relieved or terrified.

What if he truly meant it? What if you wanted this too?

You turned onto your side, eyes fixed on the bedroom door. Your heart wouldn’t settle, knowing he was still out there in your living room. A small voice in your head wondered if he had secretly slipped out and left you behind, but you could feel his presence in the apartment.

Eventually, you pushed the blanket aside before you could talk yourself out of it and slid your feet to the floor, the ground cool beneath your toes. You didn’t bother with a robe or turning on the light. You just padded softly through the apartment, your heartbeat steady yet loud in your chest, as though it was tethered to him, coaxing you closer.

The living room was dark, save for the faint silver light sneaking through the windows. There he was, still there. Curled slightly on the couch, one arm tucked under his head, the other resting loosely across his middle. His chest rose and fell in the rhythm of sleep, peaceful, quiet.

You stood in the doorway, watching for a second too long. It didn’t feel real, not after everything. But there he was, he’d stayed.

You crept closer, unsure why you even needed to check. Maybe you just needed to see him, not on a screen, not in a message you re-read too many times, but here. 

Lewis shifted when he felt your presence, floating in and out of sleep. His eyes fluttered open and his lips curled into a small smile. “I thought you’d be asleep.”

You hesitated. “I couldn’t sleep.”

You lowered yourself to the floor beside the couch, resting your chin on the cushion near his arm. His cologne lingered on the fabric, faintly familiar, and almost dizzying. Your fingers toyed with the hem of the blanket, grounding yourself. Your stomach knotted and turned, unsaid truths hanging from the tip of your tongue, waiting to slip out, and you let them.

His hand reached out tentatively. He didn’t touch your skin, he just left it there, close enough that the invitation was clear. You looked down at his hand for a moment, then slipped your fingers into his.

“I hate how complicated this feels now,” you murmured, running your thumb along the side of his finger, the warmth of his skin sending a mild shiver through you.

“Me too, but we don’t have to figure it all out tonight.” He gave the slightest nod, voice quiet. 

He pushed himself up slightly, the blanket slipping off his shoulder as he lifted it just enough to offer you the space to crawl in and join him.

After a short few seconds of hesitation, you climbed carefully onto the narrow space on the couch. He opened his arms without a word, and you melted into them, tucking your head beneath his chin, your body curling into his like it had been waiting to do so for weeks. Despite the ache in your chest, every muscle in you relaxed in his arms.

“Take all the time you need, I’m not going anywhere,” he added.

This wasn’t how you had pictured your night. Not after the tears, argument, and weeks of uncertainty. However, his arms stayed around you, his hand occasionally brushing in slow, absent patterns over your shoulder like he couldn’t quite believe you were there either. 

Maybe that was a start.

You closed your eyes, letting out a breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding. His fingers stilled as you settled closer, your own hand lightly resting on the fabric of his shirt, just over his chest.

Neither of you spoke, but his hold on you didn’t waver. For the first time in a long time, you let yourself rest, knowing that whatever was coming would be dealt with tomorrow.

You weren’t sure when you fell asleep.

The last thing you remembered was the gentle rise and fall of Lewis’ chest, the scent of his cologne lingering on his shirt, and the comforting weight of his hand on your back. At some point, your body gave in, lulled to sleep in his arms.

When your eyes opened slowly, the living room was bathed in early light. Pale gold filtering through the curtains, casting a soft glow over your furniture. You blinked the blurriness from your vision, momentarily disoriented…until you felt the warmth beneath you shift slightly, and the memories of last night came flooding back.

Lewis was still there, you were curled against him, one leg draped over his, your arm tucked between you. His head rested against the back of the couch, tilted slightly, his braids loosened from his hair tie. His other arm still held you close, protective even in sleep.

You didn’t move, you didn’t want to, because even if things still felt complicated, even if your heart still felt sore in places you hadn’t known it could, this moment was real.

Your eyes drifted over his face, softened in rest sweetly, and your heart squeezed. All the frustration, the confusion, the pain hadn’t disappeared. It had shifted, as though the weight of it had moved, making space for what was to come.

You pulled back carefully, just enough to sit up. This made him stir slightly, his eyebrows creasing, before his brown eyes blinked open.  They were still bleary and tired, but when they found you, they warmed instantly.

“Hi,” he rasped, his voice deep and rough with sleep.

“Hey,” you whispered back, brushing a hand through your hair.

He sat up straighter, rubbing at his face. He looked at you for a moment longer, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to smile or not. Then he glanced away, adjusting his braids back into his hair tie, a quiet exhale slipping through his lips. 

The silence stretched for a short moment as you both sat on the sofa. You felt your stomach growl quietly, remembering you hadn’t eaten dinner the night before, and your appetite was catching up with you.

“You hungry?” you asked suddenly, rising to your feet. “I’ll make some breakfast.”

He blinked, surprised by the offer. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to,” you replied, your voice gentler this time. 

You turned toward the kitchen, trying to hide the way your heart fluttered stupidly at the sweet smile of appreciation he’d given you. Your mind was still a storm of questions, about what came next, about what this all meant, but for now, you pulled out the pan, reached for the flour, and let yourself move through the motions.

Lewis got up a few minutes later and joined you, helping without being asked. He passed you the spatula when you needed it, peeled a banana wordlessly, and found the plates from the right cupboard. It was quiet between you, a fragile silence like the calm after a thunderstorm, when everything was still soaked through but the sky had finally cleared.

You made him vegan pancakes, like you always used to joke you would. When you took a seat next to him, still wearing yesterday’s clothes and with sleep marks on your cheek, he looked at you like you had hung the moon and dotted the sky with stars yourself.

You took a bite, barely tasting the strawberry you were chewing, your nerves alight again in your body. You knew you couldn’t stay in this soft bubble forever. You’d have to talk soon, to decide.

Lewis complimented your cooking and ate slowly, savouring every bite as the two of you settled into quiet again. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but both of you knew what was coming next, and neither of you wanted to be the one to say it first.

You glanced up at him just as his phone buzzed on the kitchen island.

Lewis sighed, looked over the screen, and muttered, “Sorry, I have to take this.” He stood, already swiping to answer as he disappeared into the hallway.

Your heart sank into your stomach, dropping suddenly the second he picked up that phone. You stared at the space he’d left behind, the warmth of the moment slipping away. 

Of course. You’d let yourself believe it might be different this time, yet here he was, being pulled back into that world again. You reached for your mug, trying not to let it show, but your hand faltered slightly.

Barely a minute later, his footsteps returned. You didn’t look up at first, cutting into your pancake meticulously as though maybe if you acted normal, the hollow feeling in your chest wouldn’t show. Maybe if you kept your head down, it wouldn’t hurt so much that he’d left you there while his life outside called.

“Sorry about that.” He returned to his seat beside you, reaching for a sip of his coffee.

“It’s okay.” Your voice was low, just above a whisper as your lips curled at the edges, hiding behind a small smile.

Lewis tilted his head towards you while he set his mug down, watching you push a slice of strawberry across your plate. He switched his phone to Do Not Disturb and set it on the counter, like it was the least important thing in the world.

“I told them I’m not coming,” he explained gently, noticing your quietness.

Your eyes lifted to face him, listening as he spoke.

He rubbed the back of his neck, exhaling slowly. “I had a shoot scheduled this afternoon, but I postponed everything for the rest of the week.”

You felt your heart skip with a tiny flicker of hope. “You did?”

“Yeah.” His voice was soft as his lips stretched into a smile. “Because I needed to be here with you. Nothing else matters if I don’t get this right.”

There was a part of you that didn’t expect him to say that, still waiting for disappointment. A part that thought maybe the phone call was the beginning of him slipping away again. That you’d find yourself once more standing on the edge of something that never fully became yours. Despite this, he was sitting across from you like nothing in the world could pull him away. Like you were the priority.

You blinked down at the table, trying to find your voice while Lewis’ hands rested on the edge of the counter openly. His body leaned in just slightly, elbows braced and, his eyes fixed on you with patience. He was waiting, holding space for you. Letting you come to him in your own time.

No phone, no rushing, and definitely no leaving. Just the two of you, there.

For the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to really see it, to feel it. This wasn’t just pretty words or temporary affection. It wasn’t him checking in out of guilt or offering just enough to keep you close. It felt different, real, like he was actually here. He wanted to stay, regardless of his life outside of that moment.

Maybe this wasn’t another disappointment. Maybe this wasn’t another version of you hoping while he drifted further out of reach.

The ache in your chest didn’t disappear, but it softened just enough to let a sliver of hope in. The feeling you’d been trying to ignore because it felt safer to expect disappointment than to hope for something lasting.

The quiet kind of hope that didn’t rush in all at once but arrived slowly, gently, as if it were asking permission. Maybe it was worth giving this a chance.

But it couldn’t be like before. Not if it meant twisting yourself into someone smaller, someone more convenient. If this was going to be something, it had to be on your terms. It had to be mutual, with boundaries, balance, and a lot of care. With both of you in it fully, figuring it out side by side. All in.

You placed your utensils onto your plate carefully and drew in a breath, steadying yourself. Your pulse raced, thrumming in your ears while your stomach fluttered with butterflies. This was it.

“Lewis?” you began, scratching a nail lightly against the counter to distract yourself from the nervousness that coursed through your veins.

He looked up immediately, eyes soft and open as he gave you his full attention, the same way that always gave you butterflies.

“Let’s do it,” you said finally, breathless from the weight of your words.

Lewis’ posture shifted subtly, the tension in his shoulders loosening as if hope had started to slip in through the cracks. He didn’t interrupt or rush you though, only watched as you turned towards him.

“I want to try…us,” you spoke again, firmer this time, the words anchoring inside you. It almost felt as though you were dreaming as you continued. “But there’s a few things we need to agree on first for this to work.”

Lewis nodded, his eyes searching yours as if he couldn’t believe it either. “Anything.”

“I know what your life is like, but we need to be in this together. I need consistency,” you started. “I need to feel like we’re both all in, not like I’m chasing after you. No disappearing on me when you’re away.”

He gave you another nod, listening intently while you continued.

“Second, we always plan when we’ll see each other next. I hate uncertainty. It makes the distance more bearable if I know when I get to see you next.” Your voice trembled lightly as you finished. “And third, we keep things private. At first, at least, until we’re both ready. What happened with those photos…it felt like we lost control before we ever had a chance to figure things out between us. I can’t do that again, not without knowing we’re on the same page.”

His expression softened at that, his eyebrows pulling together with both guilt and understanding tangled into one. “Of course, I agree with all of it. We can take our time, we’ll figure this out together.”

This time, you believed him. There was no hesitation in his voice, just certainty that he wasn’t just agreeing for your sake, but because he meant every word too.

He held your gaze for a moment longer, then pushed back slightly on his seat. The metal legs scraped lightly against the floor as he shifted, knees parting just enough to make space in front of him. 

“Come here,” he whispered, his hands lifting, and arms opening in a quiet invitation.

You rose carefully, stepping between his legs and resting your hands on his broad shoulders. His own hands slid to your waist, holding you there like you were the only thing grounding him in the moment.

“I don’t want to lose you, Lewis.” You sighed, tracing your fingers along the neckline of his shirt. “We have to make this work.”

“We will, I promise,” he replied with confidence, his tone reassuring. “I don’t want to lose you either, ever.”

Your heart stuttered again as he repeated his words from the night before. It was everything you’d always wanted to hear, and he said it with so much sincerity swimming in his warm brown eyes. He would make room for you in his world and never ask you to shrink yourself to fit into it. You would work through it all together.

“So…” he started softly, sounding almost nervous, even now. His thumbs rubbed soft circles at your waist. “You’ll be mine?”

Your breath caught in your throat, a mild sting at your eyes while your belly filled with rushing butterflies. You didn’t hesitate though. You reached up, brushing your fingers along the smooth skin of his cheek before cupping his face with both hands. He leaned into your touch instantly, his long eyelashes fluttering shut, like you were the first thing that had calmed him in weeks.

“All yours,” you smiled, brushing your nose with his gently.

His eyes opened again, crinkling at the edges as his mouth pulled into a grin.

“Are you mine too?” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

His arms wrapped a little tighter around you, pulling you in until your foreheads touched. “Always.”

Your lips met a second later, moving together while you both struggled to contain your smiles. You melted into the kiss, your shoulders relaxing in a sensation of relief, while your heart swelled with hope, and pure joy. Lewis held you close as your arms twined around his neck, breathing each other in as your mouths stayed connected, making up for every kiss you’d missed the past month.

“We’re really doing this,” you murmured as though the words surprised even you, when you eventually pulled back.

His breath brushed over your lips when he responded, his eyes sparkling with excitement and almost disbelief that this was your reality now. “We are.”

The two of you remained in the kitchen, sharing soft giggles and peppering kisses between breaths. It felt like home again. 

You stayed wrapped in each other for a while, as if neither of you could believe you were finally here. Truly together this time. When you finally pulled apart, it didn’t feel like you had run out of time. It was a comfort, like you both knew there’d be more moments like this, and you didn’t have to hold onto it so tightly anymore with that ache in your chest.

Eventually, the real world crept in around the edges of your bubble. The smell of cold pancakes and forgotten mugs of coffee on the counter. Neither of you was ready to move just yet, but you did. Together.

The quiet clatter of plates and cutlery was the only sound between you as you cleared the kitchen together, brushing shoulders and glancing over at each other when you thought the other wasn’t looking. The air still held the weight of everything that had happened in the last 24 hours, but it had softened now, a warm excitement settling in its place.

You’d agreed to take your time and rebuild this the right way, but the way Lewis kept looking at you, his big hands full of dishes, braids tied back, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to reveal his muscular arms, made it all too tempting.

You bit back a smile as you rinsed the last plate, only for him to bump your hip gently with his. Not hard enough to startle you, just to remind you he was still there with his eyes locked on you.

“You’re staring.” You felt a flush spread across your cheeks, not meeting his eyes.

“Can’t help it,” he chuckled as he dried his hands off, handing you the towel once you were done rinsing.

When you looked up, you felt the air around you shift, a slow unfurling in your chest. A familiar flicker danced between you, electric and almost dizzying. You wiped your hands dry and placed the towel back on the counter, suddenly feeling somewhat shy under his gaze.

“Just wondering how I got so lucky,” he added, quieter now.

He reached for you, one hand curling around your waist, fingers splaying like he needed to feel you solid beneath his palm, to know this wasn’t just some dream he’d wake up from.

You could feel the warmth of him in every inch of space you weren’t touching, and the electric current coursing through your veins in the parts you were. You ran your hand up his forearm and over his flexed bicep, looping your arms around his neck. That small space between your lips and his that felt impossibly far, and you wanted nothing more than to close it.

Lewis dipped his head slowly, his lips brushing yours carefully as though you might disappear, and you replied without hesitation. Your knees weakened at the taste of him and your head spun when he drew your body to his. You clutched at the neck of his shirt, needing the anchor, needing him, and he exhaled against your mouth in relief, as though he’d been holding his breath all day.

His addictive lips kissed you deeper this time, like the floodgates had opened and neither of you knew how to stop. Your hands moved to his shoulders, fingers curling into the muscle there as if you still couldn’t quite believe he was real.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he breathed, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, then back to your lips. “Every day, every night. You were on my mind, every second.”

You nodded against him, eyes closed and your breath shaky. “Me too, you have no idea.”

His thumbs stroked lightly at your side as he kissed you again, and again, each one felt like  reassurance, as though he was trying to rebuild what had broken with his presence.

Your heart swelled, your eyes burning suddenly with emotion you hadn’t expected. “I hated being away from you, felt like I lost you,” your voice trembled on your lips. 

He pressed his forehead to yours again, holding your waist like he didn’t want to let go. “You could never lose me, sweetheart.”

You touched your lips to his in response. There were no words strong enough for the relief rushing through you, no language deep enough to explain the way it felt to have him here again, holding you as though you were the most precious thing in the world, like someone he never wanted to risk losing again.

His tongue slid against yours, tasting your mouth, and you didn’t even realise your feet had left the ground until you were on the kitchen island, his hands firm around your hips, his body between your legs, fitting against you like it was the only place he wanted to be.

Your legs circled around his waist, pulling him closer, needing to feel him. His hands skimmed your thighs as though he still couldn’t believe you were letting him touch you like this again. You tilted your head back slightly when his mouth found your neck, his warm breath trickling your skin as he whispered your name. 

As you tugged at the fabric of his shirt breathlessly, he broke away just long enough to let you pull it over his head and toss it onto the floor. The light streaming through the kitchen windows reflected the pearls around his neck, and caught the lines of his fit torso, the slope of his shoulders, the glow of his bronze, tattooed skin, the soft curve of his defined lips when he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered.

“Still can’t believe you’re mine.” He spoke through his breath, his mouth capturing yours again while his thumbs traced the outline of the waistband on your trackpants.

“And you’re mine.” You giggled softly, lifting your hips to allow Lewis to slide the pants down your legs, as heat stirred in your stomach.

Your bare skin touched back down on the cold surface of the island while his hands made their way up your thighs. His fingers traced the curve of your underwear, before slipping beneath the fabric to run along your soaked core. 

“So wet for me already, baby,” he groaned against your lips, coating his fingertips in your wetness as he relished the feeling of your sensitive parts.

Your breath grew shaky, grasping onto the muscle of his shoulder and leaning back to allow him better access while steadying yourself with your free hand. He built you up slowly, almost teasingly, while his kisses trailed down your jaw to your neck and collarbone. Carefully, he slid a finger into you, followed by a second while his thumb continued to work at your clit, drawing a gasp from your lips.

“That feel good, sweetheart?” Lewis asked, enjoying watching you tremble deliciously at his mercy.

All you could do was dig your nails into his shoulder, your eyes falling shut as ecstacy coursed through your body, edging close to your peak. It wasn’t long before you began to tighten around his fingers, and he suddenly removed his hand from you, shocking you from your daze and drawing a whimper from your lips. You watched him in confusion as he quickly removed your underwear, pushed your legs further apart and lifted your feet over his shoulders.

His hot tongue dipped into your folds, licking and swirling at your clit in tantalising motions that worked you back up. Fingers still wet from earlier slipped back into you while his other hand gripped your thigh. You managed to lean back further, holding yourself up against the cold counter while he lapped at your core hungrily, your mind melting into a complete blur at his precise movements.

A hazed whisper of his name left you as your head fell back lightly, your hips grinding onto his mouth and nose. Your toes curled and your stomach tightened, you were so close now.

“Eyes on me, beautiful,” he demands against your clit, sucking gently while his tongue flicks. “You taste so fucking good.”

You obeyed, meeting his sparkling eyes with your face flushed as he watched you with hunger, devouring you until you came undone. You shuddered with pleasure crashing over you, sending you over your peak as a breathy moan left your lips. Lewis continued his movements, helping you ride out your high onto his tongue and holding you close to push your high further when the sensitivity that followed overwhelmed you, your body jerking away involuntarily. 

Once you had worked your way down, he removed himself slowly, as if he didn’t want to separate from your core if it weren’t for the ache in his pants. His lips glistened with your wetness coated over his chin and beard, his proud smirk making your stomach flutter. He licked the remainder off his fingertips as you chewed your lower lip, your frantic breaths slowing.

Sitting back up, you reached for his shoulders and pressed your mouth to his in a wet kiss, tasting yourself on him while he tugged you close to the edge of the counter, his warm hands gripping your ass. He lifted you off and moved towards your sofa, taking a seat while you straddled him. You let him undress you further, pulling your top off to reveal your bare torso and running his palms down your back. 

Gently, he cupped a breast and flicked his thumb over your nipple, before taking it into his mouth and swirling his tongue over the sensitive nub. The heat between your legs only grew hotter as you felt his hardness through his pants beneath you, and you wanted nothing more than to have him inside you. 

“Please, Lewis.” You pulled at the waistband of his pants desperately, breathless under his touch.

Lewis chuckled lightly, his voice low as he helped you slip them off. “Greedy girl.”

You gave him a look and grabbed his jaw, lifting your hips as he positioned himself at your slit. A gasp left you both in unison once you sunk down onto his length until he bottomed out inside you, relief and excitement rippling through your bodies. Slowly, you began your movements, grinding against him at first, before raising your hips and dropping down as you built a rhythm. 

He grasped your ass while you rode him, pressing his forehead to yours as his breathing grew ragged. The low groans from his throat only encouraged you further as you slammed back down on him over and over. He was somehow even more beautiful when you were the one making him feel good. The way his brown eyes glazed over in pleasure, his eyebrows knitted together, and his luscious lips fell open, made your heart race as you pushed further.

The friction of your clit against his pelvis sent waves of hot tension pooling in your belly, so you bounced harder and gripped the fabric of the sofa behind him, while your other hand held onto his shoulder. Your lips brushed together, his breath on your skin as you moaned into each other’s mouths over the wet sound of your bodies coming together.

“Baby,” he hissed roughly, his head falling back against the cushion and his face contorting in bliss. “Slow down…you’re gonna make…”

Lewis’ voice was music to your ears as you felt yourself clamp down on him, your clit pulsing and bliss rushing through your veins, leaving only a cry to rip from you. Before you could finish riding out your high yourself, you found yourself laying against the soft cushion of your sofa, under him as he took back his control. He pressed his thumb to your clit and snapped his hips into yours, heightening your pleasure as you ground back against him and clutched the fabric to your side.

Soon after, he lifted your legs higher in order to push deeper into you and tangled your fingers together with his. You squeezed his hand and tilted your chin up to kiss him again, aching to be closer. 

“I missed you so much, Lew,” you breathed, all the emotions of the day flooding you as you poured your adoration into his lips.

“I missed you more, baby, I missed you so much,” he whispered, the words almost broken with sincerity, caressing your hair with his free hand. “I swear, I’ll never hurt you again.”

His eyes searched yours as he spoke, full of care, affection, and commitment, even with his bare body pressed to yours. This time, you believed him. You trusted him. 

Your fingers found his bearded chin, drawing him close and brushing your lips to his while he slowed his rocking to deep, languid movements. His hard length stroked inside you, engulfed by your slick core as he built you both up. You moved together like two halves remembering how to be whole again. It wasn’t long before you felt him throb inside you, and you both gasped in bliss, letting yourselves release with shaky moans.

After a moment, you both eased back onto the couch, still wrapped around each other, the quiet afterglow settling like a soft blanket. Lewis’ hands moved slowly along your spine, drinking you in silently. All that existed in your bubble now was the steady rhythm of your heartbeats in sync, the warmth of his breath ghosting over your skin, and the sweet way your lips met again.

You traced your fingertips along the ink of the tattoo on his collarbone, your voice low and shy as you murmured, “You know…I’ve felt something for you for a while now too.”

A mischievous glint flickered in his eyes as he grinned.

“Really?” he teased, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “Since when?”

A small smile stretched across your face, your cheeks warm when the memories bloomed in your mind.

“Hmm…honestly,” You began, pursing your lips as you thought it over. “Maybe that dinner in Austin. When we talked for hours, you told me about that space documentary you loved. Then you said you were planning to do astronaut training, which is just insane, by the way. But I’d never seen you like that before, that look in your eyes. I think that’s when it really hit me.”

Lewis’ gaze softened, his mouth curling as he recalled the memory. “I remember. You were so sweet, I didn’t want that night to end. I always loved talking to you.”

His fingers found your hair, threading through the strands as he tugged you just a little closer.

“Guess we’ve both been holding out on each other for too long.”

“Too long, yeah.” You laughed softly against his lips.

No more words were needed. The quiet between you filled with a calming sense of hope and relief, as those fading lines between what the two of you had been, and what you were now finally gave way.

And it was just the beginning…

Silverstone came soon after that.

The car had gone quiet as the gates of the paddock loomed ahead, only the low purr of the engine and the tense thrum of anticipation in the air. You sat to Lewis’ side, toying with the chain of your bag and watching through tinted windows as crowds of staff, guests, and media personnel entered the paddock.

Lewis was calm as always, a soft smile across his lips when you arrived at the VIP parking area. One hand rested on the wheel, the other was laced with yours, your fingers threaded together across the console loosely. Roscoe was seated in the back, panting away in excitement to step out of the car.

It had been months since the two of you had made the decision to be together. Life didn’t slow down by any means; Lewis’ race season continued with all the usual travel and pressure, while you found yourself immersed in your own projects. Despite the chaos, you’d spent more time together than ever, small moments of quiet between race weekends, following him to a few races discreetly, small trips and overnight stays that strengthened your bond as a couple.

You kept choosing each other, in the big things as well as the little. It wasn’t always easy though. There were long flights, late nights, and stretches of time apart, but what mattered most was that he always found his way back to you. No unfulfilled promises, but with his presence. In the way he held you when you couldn’t sleep, or how he never let a day go by without reminding you in any way he could, that you meant the world to him.

Lewis chose you, no matter how busy his world got. And every time he did, it made you fall in love with him all over again. 

Now, you were both ready to take the next step. You’d kept your relationship as private as possible, letting it grow and be yours only, but today was the day you stopped hiding. Now, it was time.

Lewis glanced over, stroking his thumb over yours gently. “Ready?”

Your fingers curled tighter around the chain of your bag, your heart thudding loud enough to drown out the noise outside. He noticed your hesitation.

“I can get one of the staff to take you in through the back if you’re not feeling it,” he offered, leaning closer to you, “No pressure, baby.”

His tone wasn’t just kind, it was understanding. He knew exactly how much this meant, how much you were giving him by even being here.

You turned to him, the butterflies in your chest fluttering hard against your ribs. He would never rush you or try to convince you into this. He was giving you an out, and trusting you to make your own choice.

You swallowed with a small nod, squeezing his hand. “No, I want to.”

Relief flickered across his face subtly. He pressed a kiss to your temple, then to your hand, before stepping out of the car. By the time he rounded to your side and opened your door, your palms had gone slightly clammy. Still, you climbed out slowly, blinking against the grey brightness of the British summer light. Lewis didn’t hesitate, lifting Roscoe out, then handing his keys to his assistant with a quiet word, and barely glancing back as the car was whisked away.

Then, you were walking in, together.

The crowd outside the paddock buzzed, your presence drawing attention even before you reached the gates. Scanning your passes, you both crossed the threshold into the Paddock and reconnected. You weren’t holding hands yet, but you walked closely with Roscoe on the other side of Lewis, his tail wagging away as you entered.

You were hyper-aware of everything: the upcoming wall of photographers and media, the buzz of cameras warming up, the click of shutters in rapid fire, and flashes popping as photos were snapped.

The outfit you’d carefully chosen after hours of indecision felt suddenly too noticeable. It was sleek, understated and perfectly tailored to balance the line between elegance and comfort for you. Lewis had helped you choose it, insisting it looked perfect on you. You trusted his eye, especially since he understood exactly what kind of scrutiny came with standing at his side.

As the two of you crossed into the heart of the Paddock, a pack of media swept past on the left, cameras already raised. As the wave of attention swelled, your breath caught and your spine stiffened instinctively. This was it, everyone around the world would know that you were the one who held Lewis’ heart. It was no longer just pictures of stolen, private moments in an airport, it was the two of you stepping into the light proudly, together. That was all it took.

Without a word, Lewis’ hand found yours. He didn’t look at you or make a show of it. Just held on, thumb brushing over your knuckles like a quiet I’m here.

You exhaled through your nose slowly, holding a small smile as you made your way towards the Ferrari motorhome. There were many calls of Lewis’ name around the Paddock, but he never flinched, offering a quick wave or nod when he caught the direction they were coming from.

At the motorhome, the team greeted him with nods and handshakes, a few heads turning toward you and Roscoe, who was enjoying himself being showered in scratches and pats all around. You greeted the team you’d become familiar with, before spotting Lewis’ parents and sharing hugs as you settled in. Lewis soon changed into his race suit once briefings had been completed and it was nearly time to get on the track.

The garage buzzed with motion and noise, tyre covers shifting, the clang of metal tools, voices calling over radios. The scent of asphalt and scorched rubber was one that had grown to feel almost like home.

Lewis emerged in his Ferrari race suit, helmet tucked under one arm. His hair was tied back as usual, revealing his handsome face, his jaw tight, brows drawn in the kind of laser-sharp concentration he wore before every race.

Yet, the moment his eyes found you again in the corner of the garage, everything about him softened. He crossed the garage without hesitation, weaving through engineers and mechanics as if nothing else in the world existed. When he stopped in front of you, his lips stretched into a faint smile.

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice cutting through the chaos like it was only meant for you. “You okay?”

You nodded, but your throat was tight, too full of feeling. You’d never seen him look more like himself and yet so entirely in his element. Calm, sure, and brilliant as always, but now, yours.

“I should be asking you that, it’s your home race,” you shook your head, your voice barely above a whisper.

Silverstone was his home race. The one he’d grown up dreaming about, watching from behind barriers long before he'd ever stepped onto the grid himself. The race he’d won nine times already, and was surely on his way to a tenth after qualifying P2.

“You nervous?” you asked softly.

He paused for half a breath, then took a small step closer, close enough for his chest to brush yours, and you could feel the warmth coming off his skin, even through layers of fabric.

A faint breath left him, half a laugh, half an exhale. “Yeah, it just…hits different today.”

“Because it’s home?”

“Because it’s been a rough season, seems like so much keeps going wrong. But I'm hopeful for this one,” he admitted quietly. “And because now you’re here, just makes me want it more.”

You felt your heart ache with a small tug at his honesty and the weight of it all sitting just beneath the surface. 

“I believe in you, Lewis. You’ve won this race nine times before, you can absolutely do it again.” You ran your hand over his chest, his brown eyes lighting up at your confidence in him.

Lewis touched a finger under your chin, his thumb resting beneath your lips as he leaned in, brushing his over yours. “That’s all I need.”

Your fingers held onto the side of his suit lightly, grounding yourself as the rush of background noise faded around you. You wanted to say it, right then. The words were right there, lingering at the tip of your tongue, waiting to spill out. I love you. It caught in your throat, too heavy with meaning to just throw into the noise right now. You wanted it to land at the right time, to mean everything.

Instead, you placed another kiss on his lips. “Good luck, baby.”

He pulled away, warmth in his eyes, the corner of his mouth lifting in that way that always made you feel like he was letting you in on a secret. Placing a kiss on your forehead, he slowly drifted back as he was called over.

And then he turned, stepped toward the car, and disappeared into the heartbeat of the race.

The race was tense, with Lewis overtaking to lead the race throughout the second half. The final few laps blurred into a rush of sound and colour, your breath catching with every corner, every sector time, your heart in your throat even as the team around you shouted and cheered, willing Lewis across the line first. You thumbed the flower on your bracelet as the anxiety tensed through you.

Then, the explosion of noise. Lewis crossed first. Lewis won.

The garage burst into excitement, engines roaring outside, crew jumping into each other’s arms, radios crackling with congratulations. The team yelled, hugged, threw headsets in the air. The kind of joy that only came with victory, and this one had meant everything. He hadn’t won all season, until now. At his home race.

His voice over the radio made your heart melt, the gratitude and exhilaration as he thanked the team and his supporters for believing in him. Tears had escaped down your cheeks while you watched him on the many screens, waving the Union Jack flag as he pulled in.

You barely registered your own hands shaking until someone touched your arm, gentle yet urgent.

A soft voice beside you called your name, and you turned to see Lewis’ mother Carmen. Her eyes glistened with tears, her cheeks flushed from joy. She took your hand and led you quickly through the chaos and out into the sunlight.

The paddock heat hit you like a wave. The sound of the crowd, the thunder of music and announcements overhead, the crackle of static from race control, it all blurred around you. You could barely breathe through the happiness in your chest.

Below the podium, you saw the sea of red: the Ferrari crew lined along the barrier, arms raised, waiting for their driver.

You barely had time to find your spot as Lewis completed his post race interviews and headed to cool down, before making his way over to your crowd behind the barrier. He was beaming, that bright, boyish, stunned kind of smile that only came from something he thought he might never get back.

He ran past the cameras, past the media, past the security still trying to catch up. He sprinted straight for the team again as he had upon securing his win, laughing and shouting, pulling his engineers and mechanics into wild hugs while others patted him on the back

Then came his parents.

Anthony caught him first, wrapping him into a firm, almost bone-crushing hug, murmuring words you couldn’t hear over the roar or excitement into his ear as he nodded. Carmen threw her arms around him next, kissing his cheeks through tears, smoothing his braided hair as though he was still her boy.

Lewis’ eyes searched for you, and you didn’t move, because the second he saw you, standing just behind the barrier, eyes filled with tears and sunlight, he moved straight to you. His face was flushed, his beautiful eyes shining with more than victory.

When he reached you, he pulled you into him immediately. You didn’t even realise you were crying until his hands cradled the back of your head, dipping his head forward. He was breathless, wild with joy, and as the crowd around you erupted into further celebration, he kissed you. Deep and fast, full of adrenaline, his fingers curling into your hair like he needed to hold onto something solid.

The world around you blurred and you heard the cacophony of camera shutters flood your ears, everyone capturing the moment suddenly.

When he pulled back, his forehead pressed to yours briefly, and his voice cracked with emotion. 

“I love you.”

The words hit you like a tidal wave, your heart skipping a beat as it raced behind your ribs. You didn’t have time to fully take it in, not with the adrenaline still thundering through your veins, the noise around you, and the cameras flashing. They sank straight through your chest anyway, sharp and soft all at once. Your lips parted, your breath catching, because you felt it too. You’d been feeling it, carrying it around with you, hanging from your tongue and aching to be let out.

You wanted to say it back, but before the words could leave your mouth, he was pulled away,  engulfed by a rush of red and celebration, the team wrapping him in hugs and shouts. You watched him leave, dazed as your fingertips still tingled from where he’d touched you, your mouth still parted with the words you hadn’t been able to give him yet.

He didn’t look back for a response, just saying it had been enough for him.

But for you, the moment hung in the air, because you knew, without question, the very next time you saw him, you were going to say it. You had to.

Before you knew it, there he was again.

Lewis was announced as the winner, and he stepped onto the top step of the podium, the number one painted bold beneath his feet, the crowd’s cheers swelling as he stood tall against the backdrop of flags and ceremony. The anthem hadn’t started just yet, that sacred pause before the world erupted in celebration. In that moment, before a trophy was lifted or champagne was sprayed, his eyes searched the sea of faces in front of him.

His eyes swept across the crowd, taking it in like he always did, until they found you.

Then, everything shifted.

His shoulders eased, his smile softened, love blooming behind his eyes. It wasn’t the usual, dazzling grin he wore for the world or the victory smile.

This one was yours.

He winked down at you and your heart squeezed in your chest, so tight it almost hurt. The tears that had been uncontrollably escaping since the moment he crossed the line welled again. You reached up instinctively, fingers brushing beneath your eyes, trying to ground yourself in the moment.

You blew him a kiss, lips trembling but sure, and mouthed the words that had been lingering on your tongue all day.

“I love you.”

They were three silent words across a sea of celebration, but when they reached him, you saw the way they landed. Somehow, his smile grew even further and you were sure he might pop from all the excitement, especially knowing that the woman he loved, loved him too.

Soon after, champagne burst into the air around him, painting the podium in silver and light. Music blared as he celebrated with everyone, spraying his champagne down into the crowd as you shielded yourself. You caught his eyes again, soaked with celebration.

In the middle of all of it, the history, the headlines, the high of another win, it was still just the two of you.

And this time, you weren’t hiding.

No more grey areas.

No more waiting.

Just you and him.

Out in the light, at last.

Together.

Taglist: @sltwins @ernegren @sher-ni @skzvibes-blog @rageshots @esw1012🤍🤍

[knowinglewis]

Fading Lines

Part one/Part Two/Part Three/Part Four/Part Five/Final Part

Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Summary: The lines between friendship and something more start to blur between you and Lewis when after invites you to his first race weekend with Ferrari.

Word Count: 13,256

Warnings: ANGST, arguing, anxiety, yearning, overthinking. Some smut, but tooth aching sugar sweet FLUFFFFF! No use of Y/N.

A/N: WELP. Here we are my loves! This series has come to an end, and my apologies for the delay in getting the finale to you. It was a labour of love and I truly hope you all enjoy it! I'm really sad to finish this series, though I could be tempted to write an epilogue chapter too, but just unsure how I want that to look yet! From the bottom of my heart thank you all SO SO SOOOOOOO insanely much for reading this series and sticking with me through this journey! Please let me know your thoughts on it or if there's anything you'd like to see next! 🤍

Lewis said he needed to see you, that he was coming.

The words kept echoing in your head, looping louder than the doubts trying to creep in beneath them. You hadn’t asked questions, hadn’t asked if he was already on the way, or if he was still just making up his mind. You didn’t even know where he was flying from, but he sounded sure, as if he had already made the decision before the phone rang.

Still, a part of you couldn’t help it, hesitation had already settled somewhere beneath your ribs. What if he didn’t come? What if this was just another almost?

You blinked hard and pushed the thought away. You needed to move.

You stood up too quickly, your limbs stiff, and your breath shaky as you walked through your apartment. The place was a mess in that sudden, microscopic way where everything seemed messy when you knew someone else was going to be looking. You started in the living room, gathering the cardigan draped over the armrest, the pair of socks kicked under the coffee table, the half-finished cup of tea now gone cold. 

You moved on instinct, straightening cushions, gathering mugs, wiping surfaces. The kind of pointless cleaning you did when your body needed distraction, because your mind was already spiraling from the messiness of the morning.

You were halfway through wiping down the kitchen bench when your phone buzzed on the counter, a text from Lewis appearing across the screen.

Landing just after 8. Should be at yours by 9.

You stared at the message until the screen dimmed, before reading it again. He was actually coming.

You replied with a simple, "Okay. See you soon." But you held the phone in your hand for a long time after, like it was grounding you.

Then came the other part. Isabella’s voice had been sharp and clear when you called her later that afternoon: “Deactivate your socials. Or go private. Whatever you do, stop giving them access.”

You sat on the edge of your bed, your laptop balanced across your knees. Instagram was first, you scrolled through the flood of DMs and tags with your stomach twisting. People had already seen the photos of you at the airport, along with other photos that had surfaced of you at the Melbourne race with Isabella and Raye.

Some comments were kind, complimenting you and how cute you looked with Lewis. Some were curious, wanting to know more about your relationship. Others weren’t, others were horrified at the sight of their celebrity crush being spotted with his lips on some woman. Especially after only ever being spotted walking side by side with his past flings, or within groups with friends, since his public split from his long time ex. This time, it was right in all of their faces, your hands on each other and your lips connected.

You didn’t let yourself linger though, you went private. Turned off tags, disabled comments, deleted one or two posts without thinking too hard about it. You resisted the urge to scroll through your endless DMs, some with messages of support, while others sending all forms of threats and hatred towards you for stealing their dream man. Then, you moved on to your other socials with the same process. Lock it down, and delete anything you didn’t want seen, especially posts that included your family or your workplace. 

When you closed your laptop, the room felt quieter, less exposed.

The clock read 7:10pm.

You still had time before he arrived, though now that you had stopped moving, your hands had started shaking again. You stepped into the shower, turned the water hot, and stood under the spray for as long as your skin could stand it. It didn’t calm you completely, but it helped you feel a little more refreshed.

By the time you were dry and dressed, in soft track pants and a loose top, you felt like you’d done everything you could. The apartment was clean, you were clean, and your notifications were finally silent.

Yet still, doubt crawled its way back in.

What if something changed? What if he didn’t show?

You tried not to look at the clock again, but you always did. 7:52. 8:06. 8:19.

You lit a candle, then blew it out five minutes later because the scent made your stomach turn. You poured a glass of water, drank half, then sat on the couch with your legs pulled up and your phone resting in your palm.

It buzzed again just before 8:40pm with a text from Lewis.

I’ll be there soon

Your breath caught in your throat. The doubt didn’t vanish, but it softened with a flicker of hope.

You typed out an “Okay,” then deleted it and sent a heart instead. Something simple, and almost safer.

Then, you waited.

You must have closed your eyes for just a moment.

The TV played something you weren't really watching, just background noise to keep your mind from spinning too fast. You'd stretched out on the couch with a throw blanket draped loosely over your legs, your phone resting next to you, and the soft sound of the room lulling you into a light, uneasy sleep.

It wasn’t a peaceful sleep, not with your body still holding all that tension in your shoulders, your jaw tight even as you drifted off. You didn’t dream, you only floated somewhere between exhaustion and the heaviness of the day.

A knock on the door pulled you back to reality.

You blinked awake, heart fluttering in your chest for a split second, unsure whether you’d imagined it. Until another softer knock, like he didn’t want to startle you.

You sat up quickly, the blanket sliding off your lap as you scrambled to your feet, the room spinning for a second before settling.

He was here.

You crossed the apartment in a blur, your heart pounding in your ears as you reached for the door, fingers suddenly cold against the handle. You paused for half a breath, just to steel yourself.

Then you opened it, and he was there.

Standing under the low glow of the hallway light, his braids tied back as usual, eyes shadowed from the long travel day. He looked exhausted, but still his warm, calm self.

In one hand, he held a paper bag with the logo of your favourite local takeaway place printed on the side. In the other, a small bunch of flowers, your favourite kind, the same ones he’d once sent you for your birthday, you didn’t think he’d even remembered. They weren’t perfectly arranged or extravagant, but they were thoughtful and beautiful.

You froze in the doorway. All the noise, the doubt, the what-ifs from the last few days slammed into your chest in one wave. He had come, he was standing in front of you, carrying comfort in both hands and looking at you as though you were the only thing that mattered in the world. 

“Hi,” he greeted quietly, his voice rough, like maybe he didn’t trust his voice either.

You barely heard it though.

You felt your heart crack in your chest, a soft unraveling that started in your ribcage and spread all the way to your throat. You’d held it together all day, hours of silence, tension, of holding your breath against the noise online, the doubts in your mind, the uncertainty that had followed you like a shadow from the moment you’d stepped away from him at the airport.

Now, he was here, and that was all it took.

You stepped forward without a word, reaching for him before your mind could second-guess it. The bouquet crinkled at your side, the takeaway bag rustling quietly as he adjusted to keep them both from getting crushed. His arms came around you, the weight anchoring you instantly like it had been waiting for you.

Your cheek pressed to his chest, and the tears came silently, burning hot against your skin. You didn’t sob, didn’t shake. You just let go, letting yourself feel how much you’d needed him. How much you hated the space that had formed between you. How terrified you’d been that he’d stay away while you struggled with this pain alone.

“I’ve got you,” Lewis whispered against your hair, his voice gentle with an ache of its own. “I’m here, sweetheart.”

His hand rubbed slow circles between your shoulder blades, the warmth easing your pain. His voice was steady, but you could feel the tension in him too, his heart beating faster, his breathing uneven.

You didn’t know how long you stood like that, pressed against him in the doorway, the night quiet around you. However, for the first time since everything fell apart, you felt yourself start to breathe properly again.

Eventually, you pulled back, your cheek still damp, and your fingers trembling slightly where they clung to the front of his shirt. You stepped out of his arms with a soft inhale, brushing at your eyes even though he’d already seen you like that with a quiet apology. He let you go slowly, hand trailing down your back until it fell away completely.

“Come in,” you murmured, your voice hoarse. “It’s cold out here.”

Lewis nodded and stepped inside. The hallway light caught on the curve of his cheekbone, highlighting the exhaustion in his handsome features. His shoulders were heavy with travel, yet he always managed to look as perfect as ever. He set the takeaway bag gently on the kitchen bench, then placed the flowers down beside it.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d be hungry,” he remarked after a short moment, quiet as though unsure if it was safe to speak yet. “But I remember you said this place was your favourite.”

He remembered. It was only something you’d said offhandedly months ago as a recommendation if he ever visited. You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. You could feel the pressure building again just beneath the surface, with grief, confusion, the ache of caring too much and not knowing where to put it.

You crossed to the kitchen slowly and helped unpack the containers, your movements automatic. He was close but kept a respectful distance, as if he wasn’t sure where your boundaries were anymore. You didn’t know either.

The food smelled good, but your stomach was still tight and unsettled, your appetite completely gone. You arranged the bouquet in a vase just to keep your hands busy from fidgeting anxiously. He watched you for a moment, but didn’t comment.

You sat on the couch with him, though it felt like a silent agreement rather than comfort. Lewis set the food down between you, and offered you a fork.

You shook your head gently. “I’m not hungry, thank you.”

His eyebrows creased together, just slightly in concern. Still, he didn’t push. 

You let your eyes trail over him, taking him in as words reeled in your mind of what to say. He looked tired, like been carrying more than just a long travel day. You wondered when he’d last slept properly, whether he’d eaten at all before this. Whether he’d sat on that plane wondering if you’d even open the door.

Neither of you spoke for a few minutes, but it wasn’t the good kind of silence this time. It wasn’t comforting or soft. It pressed in from the edges, heavy in a thick tension that drowned the words from your mouth. It was the kind of silence that existed between two people trying to find their way back to each other, but unsure if they were supposed to.

You pulled the blanket back over your legs, suddenly cold again. Not from the air, but from how close he was without being close enough. From how badly you wanted to lean into him again, but how afraid you were of what might happen if you did.

Lewis had picked at the meal for a while, then given up too. He sat with his elbows on his knees, staring down at his hands. He looked like he wanted to say something, but didn’t know how to begin.

Until finally, he cleared his throat, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry.”

Your gaze dropped to your fingers, clutching the fabric of the blanket at your thighs as he continued.

“I didn’t want any of this to happen to you.”

The apology landed softly inside your heart, but it didn’t settle anything yet. It didn’t ease your stress or diminish the fact that your entire life had been turned upside down overnight.

He glanced over at you, then back at the floor. “I know it’s bad right now.” His attempt at positivity fell flat. “But…things like this move fast. It won’t always be like this.”

You turned toward him slowly, disbelief building like a slow-moving wave.

“Bad?” You laughed bitterly, your voice sharp. “You think it’s just going to disappear? Something I just have to wait out until everyone gets bored?”

He hesitated. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No?” You sat up straighter, a sharp edge slicing into your voice. “Because that’s what it sounds like. You think this is just part of the deal?”

“I’m just trying to say it won’t always feel like this,” he replied carefully. “That there’s a way through it. I’m not saying it’s nothing.”

You stared at him, heat prickling at your eyes and your heart pounding in your ears. “No, Lewis. I’ve seen what happens to girls who get caught near drivers let alone kissing one. The vile comments, assumptions, death threats. Everyone turning your life into a spectacle out of nowhere. I’m not famous, I don’t have a team protecting me like you do. They’ve found so much of my life, they’ve posted photos of me from years ago and called me things I can’t even say out loud.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again. His jaw tightened, but he didn’t interrupt.

“You’re Lewis Hamilton. You’ll get a few questions from the media about being off the market or something, then everyone will move on like they usually do. Meanwhile, my entire life has been turned upside down.” You went on, your voice rising in sharp, uneven bursts. 

“I knew spending time with you came with this risk, but it’s different when it’s actually happening. They didn’t just see us hanging out, they saw a very private moment. It’s not a hypothetical anymore, it’s real now and it’s fucking terrifying.”

Your chest was heaving now, fingers curled in your lap. You couldn’t look at him after you’d spilled out the words you’d been holding in, the tears stinging your eyes slowly rolling down your cheeks.

Lewis leaned forward against his knees, running a hand down his face. “I didn’t realise it got that bad. That they found so much and people were-”

“Digging into my life?” you finished for him, your voice splintering. “Yeah.”

His gaze snapped up and guilt flashed across his face, but he couldn’t meet your eyes.

You didn’t look at him either, you couldn’t bring yourself to. You stared ahead like the air in front of you might break open and swallow you whole. “They found everything. People I haven’t spoken to since high school have messaged me. My parents called me in a panic. My boss called me. Do you know how humiliating that is?”

He didn’t speak, but you could feel him watching you. You wished he’d stop.

“I don’t know what to do,” you whispered. 

He rubbed his hand over his jaw. “I should’ve been here sooner. I called you as soon as I saw it.”

“I know,” you started, swallowing past the pain in your throat. “It doesn’t really change anything though, does it? Everything is already out there, you’re too late.”

“I’m here,” he spoke quickly, like it was the only thing he could cling to. “I got on a flight the moment I could. I-”

“But where were you the last five weeks?” Your voice wavered, but the anger underneath it didn’t as the question you’d been holding in your chest finally reached the surface.

His eyebrows pulled together as he explained, “I was working, my schedule was packed. The triple header, and every other second was just filled with something.”

“Yes, I’m well aware of that.” You muttered in response. “That’s not what I mean. I barely heard from you, Lewis.” 

His mouth opened as though he was about to speak, but was cut off when you stood up abruptly. You couldn’t stand to be near him another second, you needed to move away and give yourself the space to breathe, to think your next words through. Moving towards the kitchen, you paced behind the island as though it were a barrier, splitting yourself from the situation for a moment.  

You didn’t want to have this conversation right now, but it was too late, you were already at the edge of the cliff and there was nothing left to do but take the leap. 

“I know that’s how your life is. You’re always busy, always travelling, I understand that.” You began, thumbing the edge of the counter to ground yourself. “But, we used to talk all the time. You always made time for me, even if you’d hardly slept. Then after China, everything just…”

Lewis stayed quiet, but you could feel the shift in the air and the subtle drop in his posture, like he knew what was coming. 

You forced yourself to keep going, knowing that it was now or never. “Everything changed. You hardly messaged or called. You’d take days to reply and when you did, it was just…nothing. I kept telling myself you were just busy, tried to convince myself that this was normal, but honestly, all you did was give me enough crumbs to keep hanging on to whatever this was.”

He stood from his seat and stepped towards you. “It’s not like that-”

“Isn’t it?” You cut him off again, swallowing back the choking feeling in your throat. “This is what you do, isn’t it, Lewis? You fly girls out, make them feel special so you can get in their pants, then keep them just close enough so they can’t move on and you can reach out to them again when you’re feeling lonely. I know all of that.”

He shook his head, as though he was about to deny it, but the slump of his shoulders betrayed him.

“It sounds stupid, but I thought this was different. Maybe you cared about me more than that, but it was all the same. You took me to China, made me feel like I was important to you, fucked me, then just…nothing. Like it meant nothing to you, I meant nothing.” Your voice broke at the last syllable, blinking away the tears in your eyes.

“Don’t say that.” Lewis took another step forward as you finally allowed him a second to speak. “Don’t ever say that, you know it’s not true.”

“Do I?” You snapped, backing away before he could get too close. “Because I’ve been sitting with this for weeks. Checking my phone like some idiot, thinking about our time together and wondering if you were already moving on to the next girl-”

“Stop.” He said abruptly, the frustration in his voice causing it to crack just enough that you would notice. “Don’t even think that. It was everything to me. I thought about you every single day.”

You felt unsteady on your feet at his words, your heart pounding behind your ribs. Still, your voice stayed sharp. “Please, Lewis, don’t say shit you don’t mean just to make me feel better.”

Lewis looked startled by the shift, pausing on his path towards you. “I mean it.”

“Then where were you?” You spit out finally meeting his eyes. “This whole time, you’ve been treating me like I don’t exist, like I’m just another one of your girls that you reach out to when it’s convenient. Some people might be okay with that, but that’s not me. You don’t get to treat me that way, then show up here when something goes wrong and act like you care now.”

He closed his eyes as he took in your words, then released a low, deep breath.

“I know I disappointed you. I know I hurt you. I don’t deserve to stand here and tell you what this should mean, or how you should feel. I messed it up. You didn’t deserve to be left guessing like that after everything we shared, everything I felt.” He looked down at the floor, jaw clenched. “You were never just someone I reached for out of convenience. That weekend wasn’t casual to me. Honestly, I never wanted it to end. I woke up next to you and thought this is it.”

He touched a hand to the kitchen counter like he was still trying to steady himself. “It meant everything, you mean everything to me. I’ve felt it for a long time, but I didn’t know how to handle it without ruining our friendship. I kept telling myself we’d figure it out eventually, we’d have this conversation next time, then the next, but I couldn’t bring myself to say it. I acted like a coward scared of my own feelings, so I distanced myself. Now, I’ve let you down and I am so sorry for ever letting you doubt what you mean to me. You deserve so much more than that.”

The sincerity in his beautiful, glistening eyes made your knees weaken, the wall around you slowly crumbling as he rounded the kitchen island, removing the barrier between you.

“I’m not here just because of the photos. I’m here because I care about you, more than you know. More than I’ve ever said, more than I’ve shown you, and I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner.” Lewis admitted, standing in front of you and holding your gaze as though he had bared his soul to you.

The room felt quiet in the worst way, like everything had been said but nothing had really been settled. Your chest felt too tight, like your heart was caught between relief and devastation, as if it was trying to decide which way to break. He was saying everything you thought you wanted to hear, and somehow it wasn’t enough.

You had been falling for Lewis long before Shanghai. In every look, every late-night call, every moment he made you feel like you were the only person in the world. You told yourself it was just friendship, that he might never see you as anything more. Then, he took you halfway across the world, kissed you like you were made for him, held you like you were already his, and slept with you like the two of you had always been on this path. And after that, silence, distance, nothing but crumbs that left you starving for him.

Now here he was, saying everything you used to daydream about, standing in your apartment as if he hadn’t broken your heart by disappearing when you needed him most. Part of you couldn’t stop wondering if he’d just disappear again once the chaos faded. If he’d go back to his world, far away from you, and you’d be left holding the weight of this all over again. You didn’t know what was real, you didn’t know if he meant it, and you didn’t know how to forgive it.

Yet, even now with your heart torn open, you couldn’t stop wanting him.

“What are we even doing?” Your voice was shaky as you finally spoke through the silence. “Because we crossed a line, and I don’t know if we can come back from that. I don’t know if we could ever be friends again.”

The silence that followed wasn’t sharp, full of a deep ache and everything neither of you had dared to say. Then, Lewis lifted his hands between you with his palms open silently, offering them to you.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you glanced down, before hesitantly slipping your hands into his. His fingers closed gently around yours, as though he didn’t want to hold on too tightly. Slowly, he leaned closer until you could feel his breath, as the shield you’d been holding up in your mind gave way, not entirely, but enough to let the moment hold you.

“I don’t want to go back.” Lewis whispered with a small shake of his head. “I don’t want to pretend that nothing happened, like we didn’t feel what we felt.” 

His grip tightened lightly on your hands, squeezing them as he continued.

“I don’t want to lose you, ever. I want to be with you and I want to do it right.” His voice was steady now, declaring his intentions clearly.

Your heart ached at his words, your stomach stirring with butterflies and your shoulders dropping in submission. Even now, part of you still wanted to believe him, to fall into his arms and say that you wanted this too, like nothing else mattered.

However, the lingering fear in you resisted. You’d spent weeks trying to make sense of his distance, your heart circling back to him no matter what you distracted yourself with. Now, with everything laid bare between you, it felt like whiplash, as if you were finally being handed the thing you'd quietly dreamed of, only now it hurt to reach for it.

Your mind returned to the moments you’d shared with him on your trip together, the softness in his eyes and his affectionate touches. The way he made you feel like there was no one but you. The way this all fizzled out when you were separated by time and distance. Could you really believe his words, or was that all they would be? Just words and declarations that would mean nothing when the distance came between you. What did being with you mean to him? Could it truly be any different than the pain you’d been hiding in your heart the past weeks?  

“What does that even mean to you?” You mustered carefully through your breath. “Being with me? I can’t do this if it’s going to be the same as the past month.” 

There was no deflection in Lewis’ expression now, no calm mask to hide behind. Just a man stripped down by his feelings.

“It means no more grey area. No more dancing around what we feel or pretending to be something we’re not,” he explained, looking into your eyes as if he were speaking to your heart. “It means making time for you, every single day. It means I show up properly when I say I will, whenever you need me. That I don’t ever leave you wondering, that I show you how much you mean to me every chance I get. That I choose you, always.”

He paused, swallowing hard as he brought your joined hands to his chest.

“I know I can’t undo what’s already happened, but I want to make it up to you. All of it, if you’ll have me.”

There was no performance in him now, it was just Lewis, standing there with what seemed like a flicker of desperation in his eyes, like he didn’t know if he still had a place in your life. In that stillness, you saw it: the ache of a man who had already made space for you in his heart and was terrified he might have ruined it. Maybe that was what made it harder. 

“I’m not asking for an answer right now,” he added quietly. “Or even later. Not after how badly I’ve fucked this up. I just needed you to know how I really feel.”

The tight pull in your chest hurt more than ever. You hated how much you wanted to believe him, how badly you still wanted him, even after everything. But the war inside you was real too, and it wasn’t going to vanish just because the promises you’d dreamed about had finally arrived.

“I need time,” you replied, giving his hands a light squeeze. “I want to believe you, I really do…I just don’t know how to yet.”

He nodded with understanding, “Whatever you need, I’ll be here.”

Lewis stepped closer, lifted a hand to your face. His palm barely brushed your cheek, thumb smoothing just beneath your eye to brush away a stray tear that had slipped loose. You stayed quiet, leaning lightly into his touch.

His voice was soft when he finally spoke again. “You should try to get some rest.”

“Yeah.” You gave a small nod, feeling the exhaustion from all your emotions weighing on your shoulders suddenly.

The two of you remained in the kitchen, not wanting to move. There was no clock ticking, or distant city noise, just the low sound of the fridge and a silence that wrapped itself around you like a blanket too heavy to shake off. He kept his hand there for a moment longer, then slowly let it fall, but he didn’t step away.

“I can stay,” he added tentatively, as if he knew that you might say no. “Only if you want me to. I just don’t want you to be alone tonight.”

You hesitated before giving him another silent nod, not wanting him to leave, not wanting to be alone.

Neither of you said anything else, but a few moments later, after you'd quietly excused yourself and slipped into your room, you heard the faint rustle of him settling on the couch.

He was still here, and for now, that was enough.

Later, you lay in bed, but sleep didn’t come, not even close.

Your room was dim and still, the only light a soft glow from the moonlight outside slipping in through the edges of your curtains. You’d pulled the covers over yourself for comfort, but your body was tense beneath them, feeling too warm and restless. Your thoughts wouldn’t settle. Every time you closed your eyes, you heard Lewis’ voice again. You felt the warmth of his hands. You remembered the look in his eyes when he said he didn’t want to lose you.

It should’ve made things easier, simpler, but it didn’t.

You stared at the ceiling, willing yourself to sort through all the emotions that still rushed through you. The frustration, the disappointment, the lingering fear that everything he said would vanish the second he walked out your door again. Yet underneath it, was the quiet and persistent pull of having missed him so deeply it hurt.

He was just down the hall now, on your couch. A part of you couldn’t believe that he was actually there in your home, so close to you, yet so far. 

You shifted onto your side, then your back again. Your hand found the empty space beside you  where he could’ve been, but you knew if he had been, only a single moment of weakness would have led you to break.

I want to be with you. I don’t want to lose you.

He’d said it as if it had been sitting on his chest for a long time, waiting for the right moment to fall out.

For so long, being with him had felt like a dream you didn’t let yourself reach for. Then Shanghai happened, the trip, the kisses, the way it all felt like everything you had ever wanted, and afterwards, the silence had nearly undone you. Now, he was here, saying all the things you’d hoped and you didn’t know if you were more relieved or terrified.

What if he truly meant it? What if you wanted this too?

You turned onto your side, eyes fixed on the bedroom door. Your heart wouldn’t settle, knowing he was still out there in your living room. A small voice in your head wondered if he had secretly slipped out and left you behind, but you could feel his presence in the apartment.

Eventually, you pushed the blanket aside before you could talk yourself out of it and slid your feet to the floor, the ground cool beneath your toes. You didn’t bother with a robe or turning on the light. You just padded softly through the apartment, your heartbeat steady yet loud in your chest, as though it was tethered to him, coaxing you closer.

The living room was dark, save for the faint silver light sneaking through the windows. There he was, still there. Curled slightly on the couch, one arm tucked under his head, the other resting loosely across his middle. His chest rose and fell in the rhythm of sleep, peaceful, quiet.

You stood in the doorway, watching for a second too long. It didn’t feel real, not after everything. But there he was, he’d stayed.

You crept closer, unsure why you even needed to check. Maybe you just needed to see him, not on a screen, not in a message you re-read too many times, but here. 

Lewis shifted when he felt your presence, floating in and out of sleep. His eyes fluttered open and his lips curled into a small smile. “I thought you’d be asleep.”

You hesitated. “I couldn’t sleep.”

You lowered yourself to the floor beside the couch, resting your chin on the cushion near his arm. His cologne lingered on the fabric, faintly familiar, and almost dizzying. Your fingers toyed with the hem of the blanket, grounding yourself. Your stomach knotted and turned, unsaid truths hanging from the tip of your tongue, waiting to slip out, and you let them.

His hand reached out tentatively. He didn’t touch your skin, he just left it there, close enough that the invitation was clear. You looked down at his hand for a moment, then slipped your fingers into his.

“I hate how complicated this feels now,” you murmured, running your thumb along the side of his finger, the warmth of his skin sending a mild shiver through you.

“Me too, but we don’t have to figure it all out tonight.” He gave the slightest nod, voice quiet. 

He pushed himself up slightly, the blanket slipping off his shoulder as he lifted it just enough to offer you the space to crawl in and join him.

After a short few seconds of hesitation, you climbed carefully onto the narrow space on the couch. He opened his arms without a word, and you melted into them, tucking your head beneath his chin, your body curling into his like it had been waiting to do so for weeks. Despite the ache in your chest, every muscle in you relaxed in his arms.

“Take all the time you need, I’m not going anywhere,” he added.

This wasn’t how you had pictured your night. Not after the tears, argument, and weeks of uncertainty. However, his arms stayed around you, his hand occasionally brushing in slow, absent patterns over your shoulder like he couldn’t quite believe you were there either. 

Maybe that was a start.

You closed your eyes, letting out a breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding. His fingers stilled as you settled closer, your own hand lightly resting on the fabric of his shirt, just over his chest.

Neither of you spoke, but his hold on you didn’t waver. For the first time in a long time, you let yourself rest, knowing that whatever was coming would be dealt with tomorrow.

You weren’t sure when you fell asleep.

The last thing you remembered was the gentle rise and fall of Lewis’ chest, the scent of his cologne lingering on his shirt, and the comforting weight of his hand on your back. At some point, your body gave in, lulled to sleep in his arms.

When your eyes opened slowly, the living room was bathed in early light. Pale gold filtering through the curtains, casting a soft glow over your furniture. You blinked the blurriness from your vision, momentarily disoriented…until you felt the warmth beneath you shift slightly, and the memories of last night came flooding back.

Lewis was still there, you were curled against him, one leg draped over his, your arm tucked between you. His head rested against the back of the couch, tilted slightly, his braids loosened from his hair tie. His other arm still held you close, protective even in sleep.

You didn’t move, you didn’t want to, because even if things still felt complicated, even if your heart still felt sore in places you hadn’t known it could, this moment was real.

Your eyes drifted over his face, softened in rest sweetly, and your heart squeezed. All the frustration, the confusion, the pain hadn’t disappeared. It had shifted, as though the weight of it had moved, making space for what was to come.

You pulled back carefully, just enough to sit up. This made him stir slightly, his eyebrows creasing, before his brown eyes blinked open.  They were still bleary and tired, but when they found you, they warmed instantly.

“Hi,” he rasped, his voice deep and rough with sleep.

“Hey,” you whispered back, brushing a hand through your hair.

He sat up straighter, rubbing at his face. He looked at you for a moment longer, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to smile or not. Then he glanced away, adjusting his braids back into his hair tie, a quiet exhale slipping through his lips. 

The silence stretched for a short moment as you both sat on the sofa. You felt your stomach growl quietly, remembering you hadn’t eaten dinner the night before, and your appetite was catching up with you.

“You hungry?” you asked suddenly, rising to your feet. “I’ll make some breakfast.”

He blinked, surprised by the offer. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to,” you replied, your voice gentler this time. 

You turned toward the kitchen, trying to hide the way your heart fluttered stupidly at the sweet smile of appreciation he’d given you. Your mind was still a storm of questions, about what came next, about what this all meant, but for now, you pulled out the pan, reached for the flour, and let yourself move through the motions.

Lewis got up a few minutes later and joined you, helping without being asked. He passed you the spatula when you needed it, peeled a banana wordlessly, and found the plates from the right cupboard. It was quiet between you, a fragile silence like the calm after a thunderstorm, when everything was still soaked through but the sky had finally cleared.

You made him vegan pancakes, like you always used to joke you would. When you took a seat next to him, still wearing yesterday’s clothes and with sleep marks on your cheek, he looked at you like you had hung the moon and dotted the sky with stars yourself.

You took a bite, barely tasting the strawberry you were chewing, your nerves alight again in your body. You knew you couldn’t stay in this soft bubble forever. You’d have to talk soon, to decide.

Lewis complimented your cooking and ate slowly, savouring every bite as the two of you settled into quiet again. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but both of you knew what was coming next, and neither of you wanted to be the one to say it first.

You glanced up at him just as his phone buzzed on the kitchen island.

Lewis sighed, looked over the screen, and muttered, “Sorry, I have to take this.” He stood, already swiping to answer as he disappeared into the hallway.

Your heart sank into your stomach, dropping suddenly the second he picked up that phone. You stared at the space he’d left behind, the warmth of the moment slipping away. 

Of course. You’d let yourself believe it might be different this time, yet here he was, being pulled back into that world again. You reached for your mug, trying not to let it show, but your hand faltered slightly.

Barely a minute later, his footsteps returned. You didn’t look up at first, cutting into your pancake meticulously as though maybe if you acted normal, the hollow feeling in your chest wouldn’t show. Maybe if you kept your head down, it wouldn’t hurt so much that he’d left you there while his life outside called.

“Sorry about that.” He returned to his seat beside you, reaching for a sip of his coffee.

“It’s okay.” Your voice was low, just above a whisper as your lips curled at the edges, hiding behind a small smile.

Lewis tilted his head towards you while he set his mug down, watching you push a slice of strawberry across your plate. He switched his phone to Do Not Disturb and set it on the counter, like it was the least important thing in the world.

“I told them I’m not coming,” he explained gently, noticing your quietness.

Your eyes lifted to face him, listening as he spoke.

He rubbed the back of his neck, exhaling slowly. “I had a shoot scheduled this afternoon, but I postponed everything for the rest of the week.”

You felt your heart skip with a tiny flicker of hope. “You did?”

“Yeah.” His voice was soft as his lips stretched into a smile. “Because I needed to be here with you. Nothing else matters if I don’t get this right.”

There was a part of you that didn’t expect him to say that, still waiting for disappointment. A part that thought maybe the phone call was the beginning of him slipping away again. That you’d find yourself once more standing on the edge of something that never fully became yours. Despite this, he was sitting across from you like nothing in the world could pull him away. Like you were the priority.

You blinked down at the table, trying to find your voice while Lewis’ hands rested on the edge of the counter openly. His body leaned in just slightly, elbows braced and, his eyes fixed on you with patience. He was waiting, holding space for you. Letting you come to him in your own time.

No phone, no rushing, and definitely no leaving. Just the two of you, there.

For the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to really see it, to feel it. This wasn’t just pretty words or temporary affection. It wasn’t him checking in out of guilt or offering just enough to keep you close. It felt different, real, like he was actually here. He wanted to stay, regardless of his life outside of that moment.

Maybe this wasn’t another disappointment. Maybe this wasn’t another version of you hoping while he drifted further out of reach.

The ache in your chest didn’t disappear, but it softened just enough to let a sliver of hope in. The feeling you’d been trying to ignore because it felt safer to expect disappointment than to hope for something lasting.

The quiet kind of hope that didn’t rush in all at once but arrived slowly, gently, as if it were asking permission. Maybe it was worth giving this a chance.

But it couldn’t be like before. Not if it meant twisting yourself into someone smaller, someone more convenient. If this was going to be something, it had to be on your terms. It had to be mutual, with boundaries, balance, and a lot of care. With both of you in it fully, figuring it out side by side. All in.

You placed your utensils onto your plate carefully and drew in a breath, steadying yourself. Your pulse raced, thrumming in your ears while your stomach fluttered with butterflies. This was it.

“Lewis?” you began, scratching a nail lightly against the counter to distract yourself from the nervousness that coursed through your veins.

He looked up immediately, eyes soft and open as he gave you his full attention, the same way that always gave you butterflies.

“Let’s do it,” you said finally, breathless from the weight of your words.

Lewis’ posture shifted subtly, the tension in his shoulders loosening as if hope had started to slip in through the cracks. He didn’t interrupt or rush you though, only watched as you turned towards him.

“I want to try…us,” you spoke again, firmer this time, the words anchoring inside you. It almost felt as though you were dreaming as you continued. “But there’s a few things we need to agree on first for this to work.”

Lewis nodded, his eyes searching yours as if he couldn’t believe it either. “Anything.”

“I know what your life is like, but we need to be in this together. I need consistency,” you started. “I need to feel like we’re both all in, not like I’m chasing after you. No disappearing on me when you’re away.”

He gave you another nod, listening intently while you continued.

“Second, we always plan when we’ll see each other next. I hate uncertainty. It makes the distance more bearable if I know when I get to see you next.” Your voice trembled lightly as you finished. “And third, we keep things private. At first, at least, until we’re both ready. What happened with those photos…it felt like we lost control before we ever had a chance to figure things out between us. I can’t do that again, not without knowing we’re on the same page.”

His expression softened at that, his eyebrows pulling together with both guilt and understanding tangled into one. “Of course, I agree with all of it. We can take our time, we’ll figure this out together.”

This time, you believed him. There was no hesitation in his voice, just certainty that he wasn’t just agreeing for your sake, but because he meant every word too.

He held your gaze for a moment longer, then pushed back slightly on his seat. The metal legs scraped lightly against the floor as he shifted, knees parting just enough to make space in front of him. 

“Come here,” he whispered, his hands lifting, and arms opening in a quiet invitation.

You rose carefully, stepping between his legs and resting your hands on his broad shoulders. His own hands slid to your waist, holding you there like you were the only thing grounding him in the moment.

“I don’t want to lose you, Lewis.” You sighed, tracing your fingers along the neckline of his shirt. “We have to make this work.”

“We will, I promise,” he replied with confidence, his tone reassuring. “I don’t want to lose you either, ever.”

Your heart stuttered again as he repeated his words from the night before. It was everything you’d always wanted to hear, and he said it with so much sincerity swimming in his warm brown eyes. He would make room for you in his world and never ask you to shrink yourself to fit into it. You would work through it all together.

“So…” he started softly, sounding almost nervous, even now. His thumbs rubbed soft circles at your waist. “You’ll be mine?”

Your breath caught in your throat, a mild sting at your eyes while your belly filled with rushing butterflies. You didn’t hesitate though. You reached up, brushing your fingers along the smooth skin of his cheek before cupping his face with both hands. He leaned into your touch instantly, his long eyelashes fluttering shut, like you were the first thing that had calmed him in weeks.

“All yours,” you smiled, brushing your nose with his gently.

His eyes opened again, crinkling at the edges as his mouth pulled into a grin.

“Are you mine too?” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

His arms wrapped a little tighter around you, pulling you in until your foreheads touched. “Always.”

Your lips met a second later, moving together while you both struggled to contain your smiles. You melted into the kiss, your shoulders relaxing in a sensation of relief, while your heart swelled with hope, and pure joy. Lewis held you close as your arms twined around his neck, breathing each other in as your mouths stayed connected, making up for every kiss you’d missed the past month.

“We’re really doing this,” you murmured as though the words surprised even you, when you eventually pulled back.

His breath brushed over your lips when he responded, his eyes sparkling with excitement and almost disbelief that this was your reality now. “We are.”

The two of you remained in the kitchen, sharing soft giggles and peppering kisses between breaths. It felt like home again. 

You stayed wrapped in each other for a while, as if neither of you could believe you were finally here. Truly together this time. When you finally pulled apart, it didn’t feel like you had run out of time. It was a comfort, like you both knew there’d be more moments like this, and you didn’t have to hold onto it so tightly anymore with that ache in your chest.

Eventually, the real world crept in around the edges of your bubble. The smell of cold pancakes and forgotten mugs of coffee on the counter. Neither of you was ready to move just yet, but you did. Together.

The quiet clatter of plates and cutlery was the only sound between you as you cleared the kitchen together, brushing shoulders and glancing over at each other when you thought the other wasn’t looking. The air still held the weight of everything that had happened in the last 24 hours, but it had softened now, a warm excitement settling in its place.

You’d agreed to take your time and rebuild this the right way, but the way Lewis kept looking at you, his big hands full of dishes, braids tied back, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to reveal his muscular arms, made it all too tempting.

You bit back a smile as you rinsed the last plate, only for him to bump your hip gently with his. Not hard enough to startle you, just to remind you he was still there with his eyes locked on you.

“You’re staring.” You felt a flush spread across your cheeks, not meeting his eyes.

“Can’t help it,” he chuckled as he dried his hands off, handing you the towel once you were done rinsing.

When you looked up, you felt the air around you shift, a slow unfurling in your chest. A familiar flicker danced between you, electric and almost dizzying. You wiped your hands dry and placed the towel back on the counter, suddenly feeling somewhat shy under his gaze.

“Just wondering how I got so lucky,” he added, quieter now.

He reached for you, one hand curling around your waist, fingers splaying like he needed to feel you solid beneath his palm, to know this wasn’t just some dream he’d wake up from.

You could feel the warmth of him in every inch of space you weren’t touching, and the electric current coursing through your veins in the parts you were. You ran your hand up his forearm and over his flexed bicep, looping your arms around his neck. That small space between your lips and his that felt impossibly far, and you wanted nothing more than to close it.

Lewis dipped his head slowly, his lips brushing yours carefully as though you might disappear, and you replied without hesitation. Your knees weakened at the taste of him and your head spun when he drew your body to his. You clutched at the neck of his shirt, needing the anchor, needing him, and he exhaled against your mouth in relief, as though he’d been holding his breath all day.

His addictive lips kissed you deeper this time, like the floodgates had opened and neither of you knew how to stop. Your hands moved to his shoulders, fingers curling into the muscle there as if you still couldn’t quite believe he was real.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he breathed, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, then back to your lips. “Every day, every night. You were on my mind, every second.”

You nodded against him, eyes closed and your breath shaky. “Me too, you have no idea.”

His thumbs stroked lightly at your side as he kissed you again, and again, each one felt like  reassurance, as though he was trying to rebuild what had broken with his presence.

Your heart swelled, your eyes burning suddenly with emotion you hadn’t expected. “I hated being away from you, felt like I lost you,” your voice trembled on your lips. 

He pressed his forehead to yours again, holding your waist like he didn’t want to let go. “You could never lose me, sweetheart.”

You touched your lips to his in response. There were no words strong enough for the relief rushing through you, no language deep enough to explain the way it felt to have him here again, holding you as though you were the most precious thing in the world, like someone he never wanted to risk losing again.

His tongue slid against yours, tasting your mouth, and you didn’t even realise your feet had left the ground until you were on the kitchen island, his hands firm around your hips, his body between your legs, fitting against you like it was the only place he wanted to be.

Your legs circled around his waist, pulling him closer, needing to feel him. His hands skimmed your thighs as though he still couldn’t believe you were letting him touch you like this again. You tilted your head back slightly when his mouth found your neck, his warm breath trickling your skin as he whispered your name. 

As you tugged at the fabric of his shirt breathlessly, he broke away just long enough to let you pull it over his head and toss it onto the floor. The light streaming through the kitchen windows reflected the pearls around his neck, and caught the lines of his fit torso, the slope of his shoulders, the glow of his bronze, tattooed skin, the soft curve of his defined lips when he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered.

“Still can’t believe you’re mine.” He spoke through his breath, his mouth capturing yours again while his thumbs traced the outline of the waistband on your trackpants.

“And you’re mine.” You giggled softly, lifting your hips to allow Lewis to slide the pants down your legs, as heat stirred in your stomach.

Your bare skin touched back down on the cold surface of the island while his hands made their way up your thighs. His fingers traced the curve of your underwear, before slipping beneath the fabric to run along your soaked core. 

“So wet for me already, baby,” he groaned against your lips, coating his fingertips in your wetness as he relished the feeling of your sensitive parts.

Your breath grew shaky, grasping onto the muscle of his shoulder and leaning back to allow him better access while steadying yourself with your free hand. He built you up slowly, almost teasingly, while his kisses trailed down your jaw to your neck and collarbone. Carefully, he slid a finger into you, followed by a second while his thumb continued to work at your clit, drawing a gasp from your lips.

“That feel good, sweetheart?” Lewis asked, enjoying watching you tremble deliciously at his mercy.

All you could do was dig your nails into his shoulder, your eyes falling shut as ecstacy coursed through your body, edging close to your peak. It wasn’t long before you began to tighten around his fingers, and he suddenly removed his hand from you, shocking you from your daze and drawing a whimper from your lips. You watched him in confusion as he quickly removed your underwear, pushed your legs further apart and lifted your feet over his shoulders.

His hot tongue dipped into your folds, licking and swirling at your clit in tantalising motions that worked you back up. Fingers still wet from earlier slipped back into you while his other hand gripped your thigh. You managed to lean back further, holding yourself up against the cold counter while he lapped at your core hungrily, your mind melting into a complete blur at his precise movements.

A hazed whisper of his name left you as your head fell back lightly, your hips grinding onto his mouth and nose. Your toes curled and your stomach tightened, you were so close now.

“Eyes on me, beautiful,” he demands against your clit, sucking gently while his tongue flicks. “You taste so fucking good.”

You obeyed, meeting his sparkling eyes with your face flushed as he watched you with hunger, devouring you until you came undone. You shuddered with pleasure crashing over you, sending you over your peak as a breathy moan left your lips. Lewis continued his movements, helping you ride out your high onto his tongue and holding you close to push your high further when the sensitivity that followed overwhelmed you, your body jerking away involuntarily. 

Once you had worked your way down, he removed himself slowly, as if he didn’t want to separate from your core if it weren’t for the ache in his pants. His lips glistened with your wetness coated over his chin and beard, his proud smirk making your stomach flutter. He licked the remainder off his fingertips as you chewed your lower lip, your frantic breaths slowing.

Sitting back up, you reached for his shoulders and pressed your mouth to his in a wet kiss, tasting yourself on him while he tugged you close to the edge of the counter, his warm hands gripping your ass. He lifted you off and moved towards your sofa, taking a seat while you straddled him. You let him undress you further, pulling your top off to reveal your bare torso and running his palms down your back. 

Gently, he cupped a breast and flicked his thumb over your nipple, before taking it into his mouth and swirling his tongue over the sensitive nub. The heat between your legs only grew hotter as you felt his hardness through his pants beneath you, and you wanted nothing more than to have him inside you. 

“Please, Lewis.” You pulled at the waistband of his pants desperately, breathless under his touch.

Lewis chuckled lightly, his voice low as he helped you slip them off. “Greedy girl.”

You gave him a look and grabbed his jaw, lifting your hips as he positioned himself at your slit. A gasp left you both in unison once you sunk down onto his length until he bottomed out inside you, relief and excitement rippling through your bodies. Slowly, you began your movements, grinding against him at first, before raising your hips and dropping down as you built a rhythm. 

He grasped your ass while you rode him, pressing his forehead to yours as his breathing grew ragged. The low groans from his throat only encouraged you further as you slammed back down on him over and over. He was somehow even more beautiful when you were the one making him feel good. The way his brown eyes glazed over in pleasure, his eyebrows knitted together, and his luscious lips fell open, made your heart race as you pushed further.

The friction of your clit against his pelvis sent waves of hot tension pooling in your belly, so you bounced harder and gripped the fabric of the sofa behind him, while your other hand held onto his shoulder. Your lips brushed together, his breath on your skin as you moaned into each other’s mouths over the wet sound of your bodies coming together.

“Baby,” he hissed roughly, his head falling back against the cushion and his face contorting in bliss. “Slow down…you’re gonna make…”

Lewis’ voice was music to your ears as you felt yourself clamp down on him, your clit pulsing and bliss rushing through your veins, leaving only a cry to rip from you. Before you could finish riding out your high yourself, you found yourself laying against the soft cushion of your sofa, under him as he took back his control. He pressed his thumb to your clit and snapped his hips into yours, heightening your pleasure as you ground back against him and clutched the fabric to your side.

Soon after, he lifted your legs higher in order to push deeper into you and tangled your fingers together with his. You squeezed his hand and tilted your chin up to kiss him again, aching to be closer. 

“I missed you so much, Lew,” you breathed, all the emotions of the day flooding you as you poured your adoration into his lips.

“I missed you more, baby, I missed you so much,” he whispered, the words almost broken with sincerity, caressing your hair with his free hand. “I swear, I’ll never hurt you again.”

His eyes searched yours as he spoke, full of care, affection, and commitment, even with his bare body pressed to yours. This time, you believed him. You trusted him. 

Your fingers found his bearded chin, drawing him close and brushing your lips to his while he slowed his rocking to deep, languid movements. His hard length stroked inside you, engulfed by your slick core as he built you both up. You moved together like two halves remembering how to be whole again. It wasn’t long before you felt him throb inside you, and you both gasped in bliss, letting yourselves release with shaky moans.

After a moment, you both eased back onto the couch, still wrapped around each other, the quiet afterglow settling like a soft blanket. Lewis’ hands moved slowly along your spine, drinking you in silently. All that existed in your bubble now was the steady rhythm of your heartbeats in sync, the warmth of his breath ghosting over your skin, and the sweet way your lips met again.

You traced your fingertips along the ink of the tattoo on his collarbone, your voice low and shy as you murmured, “You know…I’ve felt something for you for a while now too.”

A mischievous glint flickered in his eyes as he grinned.

“Really?” he teased, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “Since when?”

A small smile stretched across your face, your cheeks warm when the memories bloomed in your mind.

“Hmm…honestly,” You began, pursing your lips as you thought it over. “Maybe that dinner in Austin. When we talked for hours, you told me about that space documentary you loved. Then you said you were planning to do astronaut training, which is just insane, by the way. But I’d never seen you like that before, that look in your eyes. I think that’s when it really hit me.”

Lewis’ gaze softened, his mouth curling as he recalled the memory. “I remember. You were so sweet, I didn’t want that night to end. I always loved talking to you.”

His fingers found your hair, threading through the strands as he tugged you just a little closer.

“Guess we’ve both been holding out on each other for too long.”

“Too long, yeah.” You laughed softly against his lips.

No more words were needed. The quiet between you filled with a calming sense of hope and relief, as those fading lines between what the two of you had been, and what you were now finally gave way.

And it was just the beginning…

Silverstone came soon after that.

The car had gone quiet as the gates of the paddock loomed ahead, only the low purr of the engine and the tense thrum of anticipation in the air. You sat to Lewis’ side, toying with the chain of your bag and watching through tinted windows as crowds of staff, guests, and media personnel entered the paddock.

Lewis was calm as always, a soft smile across his lips when you arrived at the VIP parking area. One hand rested on the wheel, the other was laced with yours, your fingers threaded together across the console loosely. Roscoe was seated in the back, panting away in excitement to step out of the car.

It had been months since the two of you had made the decision to be together. Life didn’t slow down by any means; Lewis’ race season continued with all the usual travel and pressure, while you found yourself immersed in your own projects. Despite the chaos, you’d spent more time together than ever, small moments of quiet between race weekends, following him to a few races discreetly, small trips and overnight stays that strengthened your bond as a couple.

You kept choosing each other, in the big things as well as the little. It wasn’t always easy though. There were long flights, late nights, and stretches of time apart, but what mattered most was that he always found his way back to you. No unfulfilled promises, but with his presence. In the way he held you when you couldn’t sleep, or how he never let a day go by without reminding you in any way he could, that you meant the world to him.

Lewis chose you, no matter how busy his world got. And every time he did, it made you fall in love with him all over again. 

Now, you were both ready to take the next step. You’d kept your relationship as private as possible, letting it grow and be yours only, but today was the day you stopped hiding. Now, it was time.

Lewis glanced over, stroking his thumb over yours gently. “Ready?”

Your fingers curled tighter around the chain of your bag, your heart thudding loud enough to drown out the noise outside. He noticed your hesitation.

“I can get one of the staff to take you in through the back if you’re not feeling it,” he offered, leaning closer to you, “No pressure, baby.”

His tone wasn’t just kind, it was understanding. He knew exactly how much this meant, how much you were giving him by even being here.

You turned to him, the butterflies in your chest fluttering hard against your ribs. He would never rush you or try to convince you into this. He was giving you an out, and trusting you to make your own choice.

You swallowed with a small nod, squeezing his hand. “No, I want to.”

Relief flickered across his face subtly. He pressed a kiss to your temple, then to your hand, before stepping out of the car. By the time he rounded to your side and opened your door, your palms had gone slightly clammy. Still, you climbed out slowly, blinking against the grey brightness of the British summer light. Lewis didn’t hesitate, lifting Roscoe out, then handing his keys to his assistant with a quiet word, and barely glancing back as the car was whisked away.

Then, you were walking in, together.

The crowd outside the paddock buzzed, your presence drawing attention even before you reached the gates. Scanning your passes, you both crossed the threshold into the Paddock and reconnected. You weren’t holding hands yet, but you walked closely with Roscoe on the other side of Lewis, his tail wagging away as you entered.

You were hyper-aware of everything: the upcoming wall of photographers and media, the buzz of cameras warming up, the click of shutters in rapid fire, and flashes popping as photos were snapped.

The outfit you’d carefully chosen after hours of indecision felt suddenly too noticeable. It was sleek, understated and perfectly tailored to balance the line between elegance and comfort for you. Lewis had helped you choose it, insisting it looked perfect on you. You trusted his eye, especially since he understood exactly what kind of scrutiny came with standing at his side.

As the two of you crossed into the heart of the Paddock, a pack of media swept past on the left, cameras already raised. As the wave of attention swelled, your breath caught and your spine stiffened instinctively. This was it, everyone around the world would know that you were the one who held Lewis’ heart. It was no longer just pictures of stolen, private moments in an airport, it was the two of you stepping into the light proudly, together. That was all it took.

Without a word, Lewis’ hand found yours. He didn’t look at you or make a show of it. Just held on, thumb brushing over your knuckles like a quiet I’m here.

You exhaled through your nose slowly, holding a small smile as you made your way towards the Ferrari motorhome. There were many calls of Lewis’ name around the Paddock, but he never flinched, offering a quick wave or nod when he caught the direction they were coming from.

At the motorhome, the team greeted him with nods and handshakes, a few heads turning toward you and Roscoe, who was enjoying himself being showered in scratches and pats all around. You greeted the team you’d become familiar with, before spotting Lewis’ parents and sharing hugs as you settled in. Lewis soon changed into his race suit once briefings had been completed and it was nearly time to get on the track.

The garage buzzed with motion and noise, tyre covers shifting, the clang of metal tools, voices calling over radios. The scent of asphalt and scorched rubber was one that had grown to feel almost like home.

Lewis emerged in his Ferrari race suit, helmet tucked under one arm. His hair was tied back as usual, revealing his handsome face, his jaw tight, brows drawn in the kind of laser-sharp concentration he wore before every race.

Yet, the moment his eyes found you again in the corner of the garage, everything about him softened. He crossed the garage without hesitation, weaving through engineers and mechanics as if nothing else in the world existed. When he stopped in front of you, his lips stretched into a faint smile.

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice cutting through the chaos like it was only meant for you. “You okay?”

You nodded, but your throat was tight, too full of feeling. You’d never seen him look more like himself and yet so entirely in his element. Calm, sure, and brilliant as always, but now, yours.

“I should be asking you that, it’s your home race,” you shook your head, your voice barely above a whisper.

Silverstone was his home race. The one he’d grown up dreaming about, watching from behind barriers long before he'd ever stepped onto the grid himself. The race he’d won nine times already, and was surely on his way to a tenth after qualifying P2.

“You nervous?” you asked softly.

He paused for half a breath, then took a small step closer, close enough for his chest to brush yours, and you could feel the warmth coming off his skin, even through layers of fabric.

A faint breath left him, half a laugh, half an exhale. “Yeah, it just…hits different today.”

“Because it’s home?”

“Because it’s been a rough season, seems like so much keeps going wrong. But I'm hopeful for this one,” he admitted quietly. “And because now you’re here, just makes me want it more.”

You felt your heart ache with a small tug at his honesty and the weight of it all sitting just beneath the surface. 

“I believe in you, Lewis. You’ve won this race nine times before, you can absolutely do it again.” You ran your hand over his chest, his brown eyes lighting up at your confidence in him.

Lewis touched a finger under your chin, his thumb resting beneath your lips as he leaned in, brushing his over yours. “That’s all I need.”

Your fingers held onto the side of his suit lightly, grounding yourself as the rush of background noise faded around you. You wanted to say it, right then. The words were right there, lingering at the tip of your tongue, waiting to spill out. I love you. It caught in your throat, too heavy with meaning to just throw into the noise right now. You wanted it to land at the right time, to mean everything.

Instead, you placed another kiss on his lips. “Good luck, baby.”

He pulled away, warmth in his eyes, the corner of his mouth lifting in that way that always made you feel like he was letting you in on a secret. Placing a kiss on your forehead, he slowly drifted back as he was called over.

And then he turned, stepped toward the car, and disappeared into the heartbeat of the race.

The race was tense, with Lewis overtaking to lead the race throughout the second half. The final few laps blurred into a rush of sound and colour, your breath catching with every corner, every sector time, your heart in your throat even as the team around you shouted and cheered, willing Lewis across the line first. You thumbed the flower on your bracelet as the anxiety tensed through you.

Then, the explosion of noise. Lewis crossed first. Lewis won.

The garage burst into excitement, engines roaring outside, crew jumping into each other’s arms, radios crackling with congratulations. The team yelled, hugged, threw headsets in the air. The kind of joy that only came with victory, and this one had meant everything. He hadn’t won all season, until now. At his home race.

His voice over the radio made your heart melt, the gratitude and exhilaration as he thanked the team and his supporters for believing in him. Tears had escaped down your cheeks while you watched him on the many screens, waving the Union Jack flag as he pulled in.

You barely registered your own hands shaking until someone touched your arm, gentle yet urgent.

A soft voice beside you called your name, and you turned to see Lewis’ mother Carmen. Her eyes glistened with tears, her cheeks flushed from joy. She took your hand and led you quickly through the chaos and out into the sunlight.

The paddock heat hit you like a wave. The sound of the crowd, the thunder of music and announcements overhead, the crackle of static from race control, it all blurred around you. You could barely breathe through the happiness in your chest.

Below the podium, you saw the sea of red: the Ferrari crew lined along the barrier, arms raised, waiting for their driver.

You barely had time to find your spot as Lewis completed his post race interviews and headed to cool down, before making his way over to your crowd behind the barrier. He was beaming, that bright, boyish, stunned kind of smile that only came from something he thought he might never get back.

He ran past the cameras, past the media, past the security still trying to catch up. He sprinted straight for the team again as he had upon securing his win, laughing and shouting, pulling his engineers and mechanics into wild hugs while others patted him on the back

Then came his parents.

Anthony caught him first, wrapping him into a firm, almost bone-crushing hug, murmuring words you couldn’t hear over the roar or excitement into his ear as he nodded. Carmen threw her arms around him next, kissing his cheeks through tears, smoothing his braided hair as though he was still her boy.

Lewis’ eyes searched for you, and you didn’t move, because the second he saw you, standing just behind the barrier, eyes filled with tears and sunlight, he moved straight to you. His face was flushed, his beautiful eyes shining with more than victory.

When he reached you, he pulled you into him immediately. You didn’t even realise you were crying until his hands cradled the back of your head, dipping his head forward. He was breathless, wild with joy, and as the crowd around you erupted into further celebration, he kissed you. Deep and fast, full of adrenaline, his fingers curling into your hair like he needed to hold onto something solid.

The world around you blurred and you heard the cacophony of camera shutters flood your ears, everyone capturing the moment suddenly.

When he pulled back, his forehead pressed to yours briefly, and his voice cracked with emotion. 

“I love you.”

The words hit you like a tidal wave, your heart skipping a beat as it raced behind your ribs. You didn’t have time to fully take it in, not with the adrenaline still thundering through your veins, the noise around you, and the cameras flashing. They sank straight through your chest anyway, sharp and soft all at once. Your lips parted, your breath catching, because you felt it too. You’d been feeling it, carrying it around with you, hanging from your tongue and aching to be let out.

You wanted to say it back, but before the words could leave your mouth, he was pulled away,  engulfed by a rush of red and celebration, the team wrapping him in hugs and shouts. You watched him leave, dazed as your fingertips still tingled from where he’d touched you, your mouth still parted with the words you hadn’t been able to give him yet.

He didn’t look back for a response, just saying it had been enough for him.

But for you, the moment hung in the air, because you knew, without question, the very next time you saw him, you were going to say it. You had to.

Before you knew it, there he was again.

Lewis was announced as the winner, and he stepped onto the top step of the podium, the number one painted bold beneath his feet, the crowd’s cheers swelling as he stood tall against the backdrop of flags and ceremony. The anthem hadn’t started just yet, that sacred pause before the world erupted in celebration. In that moment, before a trophy was lifted or champagne was sprayed, his eyes searched the sea of faces in front of him.

His eyes swept across the crowd, taking it in like he always did, until they found you.

Then, everything shifted.

His shoulders eased, his smile softened, love blooming behind his eyes. It wasn’t the usual, dazzling grin he wore for the world or the victory smile.

This one was yours.

He winked down at you and your heart squeezed in your chest, so tight it almost hurt. The tears that had been uncontrollably escaping since the moment he crossed the line welled again. You reached up instinctively, fingers brushing beneath your eyes, trying to ground yourself in the moment.

You blew him a kiss, lips trembling but sure, and mouthed the words that had been lingering on your tongue all day.

“I love you.”

They were three silent words across a sea of celebration, but when they reached him, you saw the way they landed. Somehow, his smile grew even further and you were sure he might pop from all the excitement, especially knowing that the woman he loved, loved him too.

Soon after, champagne burst into the air around him, painting the podium in silver and light. Music blared as he celebrated with everyone, spraying his champagne down into the crowd as you shielded yourself. You caught his eyes again, soaked with celebration.

In the middle of all of it, the history, the headlines, the high of another win, it was still just the two of you.

And this time, you weren’t hiding.

No more grey areas.

No more waiting.

Just you and him.

Out in the light, at last.

Together.

Taglist: @sltwins @ernegren @sher-ni @skzvibes-blog @rageshots @esw1012🤍🤍

[knowinglewis]

time flies but the smile is the same

[knowinglewis]

Fading Lines

Part one/Part Two/Part Three/Part Four/Part Five/Final Part

Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Summary: The lines between friendship and something more start to blur between you and Lewis when after invites you to his first race weekend with Ferrari, in Shanghai.

Word Count: 10,977

Warnings: Massive fluff with a TON of ANGST and yearning. Spiraling, anxiety, overthinking, and distance. No use of Y/N.

A/N: So umm...I lied. This will be the second to last part because I've decided to split the final chapter into two. It was getting insanely long and it's also 2am here, so I just wanted to get at least this part out and hopefully the FINAL final chapter in the next couple of days! If you'd like to join the taglist, please let me know and I'd be happy to add you! As always, thank you SO insanely much for reading, please let me know your thoughts! 🤍

The city of Shanghai passed in a slow blur outside tinted windows, the soft morning light shining over the quiet streets, like the world was still waking up. It was silent inside the car, the air full of the things you wanted to say and things you didn’t know how to put into words.

You sat close at Lewis’ side in the back seat, your legs brushing with each turn while his hand rested on your knee, his thumb stroking over your pants soothingly. His hoodie was pulled low, cap angled forward to shadow his face, but you could still see the soft tiredness in his eyes every time he looked your way, like even he didn’t want to blink and lose another second together.

The driver remained silent, hands steady on the wheel as he escorted you to the airport discreetly. The ride didn’t need any idle chatting, your bodies said enough in the way your fingers laced around his other hand across his lap and your head rested on his shoulder.

The closer the airport came, the harder it felt to breathe as the time between you ticked along to its end. You hadn’t known it would be this hard.

Maybe it was silly, after all, you’d come here knowing it was temporary, knowing this thing between you and Lewis didn’t have a name or a future mapped out in any clear direction. And yet, waking up in his arms, sharing slow kisses in the steam of the shower, laughing quietly as the water cooled, it felt like more.

Now you didn’t know what any of it meant.

Lewis leaned forward as the terminal signs appeared in the distance, speaking quietly to the driver. “Can you pull over somewhere private before drop-off?”

The driver gave a silent nod and turned off toward a quieter lane, easing the car beneath a shaded awning away from the main crowd. The car slowed to a stop, the sound of the engine soft in your ears.

Lewis unbuckled his seatbelt with a small sigh, then turned toward you fully while the driver stepped out of the vehicle. Though his shoulders relaxed, the shadows couldn’t hide the look on his face.

“You could still come to Japan,” he offered, voice low.

You looked at him with your eyebrows creasing together lightly, your heart squeezing at the sound of it. He wasn’t joking or teasing, he meant it. You could hear it in the way his voice softened, the way his eyes searched yours like he was hoping you’d change your mind.

“I want to,” you replied honestly. “But I can’t. You know that.” You tightened your threaded fingers, dropping your gaze to your joined hands. “I wish I could.”

You wished you could, so badly it hurt. The idea of just going with him, stealing another few days in this perfect little dream you shared, made your throat tight. But your life was calling, your job, your responsibilities, the version of you that existed beyond hotel rooms and paddocks.

“It was worth a shot,” Lewis chuckled as he reached up to cup your cheek with his palm.

Then, leaning forward, his forehead rested gently against yours, noses brushing with a shared breath. You turned your body toward him, curling your legs slightly in the seat, and leaned into him. His hand found your thigh again like a warm anchor, as though you both weren’t ready to let go just yet.

He tilted his chin to touch his lips to yours, his mouth soft and addictive as he kissed you slowly. Once, twice, another. The ache grew behind your ribs, not knowing when you’d get the chance to taste him again, so you savoured every brush of his lips, the whole world shrinking to only the space between you.

You didn’t ask him what any of this meant, not last night or in the morning. You didn’t dare, no matter how much your heart was already tangled in it, in him. The way he kissed you told you he felt it too. Maybe not in words, but the way his mouth lingered on yours, like he wanted to make this stretch as long as possible, like he wanted to memorise you. The way you tasted, the way you breathed, the way your fingers curled into his hoodie like you didn’t want to let go.

“I’ll miss you,” you whispered into his lips with a shaky breath.

“I already do.” You felt him smile as he squeezed your thigh, hesitant to pull away.

So did you, not just the physical nearness of him, but the gentle intimacy between you. The comfort, and the way he made space for you. The way he looked at you as if you were the only girl in the world and listened intently to every word you spoke. He made you feel important, special, like you mattered in every way.

“We’ll figure something out soon,” he murmured, cradling your chin between his thumb and index finger. “I’ll make sure of it.”

It wasn’t exactly a promise, but it was something.

The final kiss lingered like a wordless goodbye, his other hand sliding up your thigh to your waist as though you might slip away if he didn’t hold you just right. For a second, you let yourself believe that maybe you wouldn’t.

When you finally pulled apart, you felt the ache in your chest again, reality crashing over you with a heavy weight on your shoulders.

Another breath passed between you, then he reached for your bag beside him. “Let’s get you to your gate before I change my mind and make you miss your flight.”

You managed a soft laugh, your heart cracking just a little more as you opened the door. The driver was already at the trunk, retrieving your suitcase, while Lewis stepped out too, pulling his hoodie a little lower and slipping his sunglasses on, ever-conscious of watching eyes.

Still, he reached for your hand without hesitation. “I’ll walk you in.”

You didn’t argue, adjusting the collar of the hoodie he had gifted you around your neck, the scent of his cologne wrapping around you.

Inside the terminal, you stayed close to him, grateful for the lull in morning foot traffic. He assisted you in dropping your bags off, lifting the heavy weight with ease. At the departure board, he stood behind you, slipping his arms protectively over your chest and shoulders, resting his chin lightly on your head. The warmth of him, the weight of his hold, made you feel smaller in the best way, as if you didn’t have to be strong for a minute. Like you could just exist there, in your personal bubble among the mildly busy airport while the two of you scanned the board.

“Looks like your gate’s on time,” Lewis remarked, his voice low in your ear.

You nodded, your hands over his forearm at your chest, eyes fixed on the screen, even though you weren’t really reading it. You didn’t want to move, didn’t want to go through security and leave him on the other side of the barrier.

“We’ve got a few minutes then.” He pressed a soft kiss to the crown of your head.

The buzz of the airport blurred into the background, wheels dragging over the smooth floors, a child asking something too loudly, boarding calls echoing over the PA, but inside that small pocket of space with him, it all faded away.

His chest rose and fell slowly against your back, and you leaned into it. You could feel the warmth of his breath against your hair, the steady thrum of his heart. It calmed you, and hurt you, all at once.

Neither of you said anything. What could you say, really? There were still no labels, no promises, just your time together running out. It wasn’t as though you wouldn’t see him again, but the ache of not knowing when you might see him next, knowing his busy schedule, made it all the more painful.

When your boarding gate changed to ‘Gate Open’ he shifted, gently turning you to face him. His hands found your waist and his warm brown eyes, shielded by his sunglasses, trailed over your face, as if drinking you in, one last time. There was a soft crease between his brows, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

You didn't ask what he was thinking. You weren’t sure you were ready to hear it, not now, not when you had to walk away right after. So instead, you rested your hand on his chest, while the other reached to run your fingers along his beard, leaning forward towards his inviting lips. He dipped his head for a kiss, one that felt certain and real. A kiss you could carry with you in your memories, tucked safe in your pocket.

When you separated, he didn’t go far, resting his forehead against yours with his voice barely a whisper. “Text me when you land, okay?”

“I will.” You nodded and looked at him through your lashes, trying to steady the tremble in your chest. “You better text me when you land too.”

“Yeah.” His lips curled into a soft smile, planting his lips to your forehead. “Soon as I’m on the ground.”

Then he brushed his thumb along your cheekbone, lingering like he wasn’t ready to let go.

“Safe flight, sweetheart.”

The word caught you off guard. He’d never called you that before, not even last night.

“You too.” Was all you could manage as you nodded, lips parting like you just might, say something more, but you didn’t.

Instead, you grabbed the handle of your carry-on and turned toward security, giving him a small smile, before you moved into the line. You felt him quickly slip a small box into the outer pocket of your bag as you stepped away. You didn’t know what it was, but it made your stomach flutter.

You looked back one last time, and he was still there with his hands in his pockets and his cap sitting low, watching you the whole way.

Eventually, you made your way through security and boarded the airplane, settling into the plush leather seat of first class. You let out a quiet breath, the buzz of the plane’s engine a distant murmur beneath the soft clinks of glassware and muted conversations between passengers and flight attendants. You adjusted your seat instantly for comfort and pulled your carry-on bag onto your lap, as you remembered Lewis’ subtle gift.

Your hand dipped into the outer pocket, fingers closing around a small, wrapped box. The paper was simple and delicate, a thin ribbon tied around it. Carefully, you peeled back the wrapping, lifted the lid to reveal a bracelet you’d admired the day before, a bracelet your eyes had only lingered on a few seconds longer than others as you explored the stores in Shanghai. The tiny blossom charm sparkled in the soft cabin light as you traced your fingertips along the elegant chain.

Your heart fluttered behind your ribs, a flush warming your cheeks. It wasn’t just the bracelet, it was the fact that he’d noticed. That he’d remembered and gone back for it quietly, without asking or announcing it, as though he wanted to leave a piece of that day with you, something that could last beyond that trip. His thoughtfulness managed to steal your breath again that day, even when you were about to find yourselves on other sides of the world again.

A sudden buzzing startled you, your phone vibrating in your hand. You unlocked it quickly to see a message from Lewis.

Miss you already.

You couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corner of your mouth, warmth flooding your chest. His words, the scent of his cologne on the hoodie you wore, the bracelet between your fingers, it all built into an urge to run straight off the plane and into his arms. You still had time before takeoff, but the itch was quickly diminished by the reminder of your reality when a notification from your job popped up on the top of your screen.

With a sigh of dread, you swiped the notification away and typed your reply to Lewis instead.

You’re so thoughtful, thank you for the bracelet. It’s beautiful, I’m going to wear it every day ❤️ And I miss you too

You hesitated only a second before hitting send, not because you didn’t mean it, but because of the truth in your words. Then, you gently fastened the bracelet around your wrist, fingers brushing over the charm like it might answer all the questions lingering in your mind.

You laid back in the seat, bracelet cool against your skin, and let yourself sink into the rush of takeoff. As the plane rose into the air, you glanced out the window at the endless sky, the world falling away beneath the clouds.

The goodbye had clung to you more than you'd expected.

You turned your face toward the window and closed your eyes, the soft blanket pulled up to your chin.

Your thoughts slipped back to the morning, back to the low, golden light spilling in through the hotel curtains, and the slow way Lewis had kissed your shoulders before you’d even fully woken. There was no rush in the way he touched you. He kissed your body as though you were the most precious thing he had ever held, almost like he was trying to memorise the feel of your skin before time ran out.

You remembered the way his fingers had threaded through yours under the hot water of the shower, how the steam curled around your skin as he pressed you gently back against the tiled wall. Despite your upcoming flights, his hands had explored your body without hurry, holding you close to him along with slow strokes inside you. He had kissed you like he didn’t want that morning, or you, to end. His strong arms held you steady, with his mouth soft and slow against your neck.

The memory sent a deep ache through your chest, the pain tight at your throat from longing, from the magical weekend you’d had coming to an end, but mostly from not knowing.

You hadn’t talked about what came next. You didn’t ask, and neither did he. Maybe it was just easier that way, or maybe you were just afraid to. Maybe that was what scared you most, that he wouldn’t bring it up either. That you’d go back to texts, glances, and half-smiles from a distance, pretending nothing had changed. Pretending that you didn’t know the feel of each other’s bodies and hadn’t shared the most romantic kisses you had ever known.

Yet now, staring out at the sky as the plane cut through the floating clouds, you couldn’t help but wonder. You didn’t know what this was between you, if it had the space to become something real, or if it was always meant to burn bright for one night and fade just as fast.

Something had shifted between you though, and you couldn’t go back now. You weren’t sure if you wanted to, but the most terrifying part was not knowing if he felt the same, not knowing if he’d carry this with him into whatever came next, or leave it behind as just a memory folded between race weekends.

You pulled the blanket higher, burrowing into the seat as if you could hide from the questions pressing at the back of your mind.

Was this the start of something beautiful, or had you already reached the end without realising it?

You told yourself you’d wait. See what he’d say going forward, see what came next as the days unfolded. You wouldn’t get your hopes up, despite the magical weekend. Not when you knew Lewis’ history, the effortless flings, the late-night sightings with some of the most beautiful women in the world. Models, actresses, girls who didn’t linger. Maybe that was the whole point. It wouldn’t come as a surprise if this was merely another weekend for him.

However, that had never been you. You felt too much, you always had, and now, after all this time of carefully not crossing a line, you’d stepped over it in the quiet dark of a Shanghai hotel, and the world felt different. That line had now faded, and you were left wondering if it was simply lust that had intoxicated you both into crossing that threshold, or if it came from something deeper.

You couldn’t bring yourself to ask, not that night, or that morning, because asking meant hoping, and hope was dangerous.

You adjusted yourself in your seat again, letting your eyes fall closed and tried to quiet your thoughts again.

Food had been served in courses throughout the flight, but you barely tasted it. There was too much on your mind, too heavy a weight in your chest to enjoy the luxury of it all. The food was good, the seat plush, the view incredible, and still, none of it felt quite right.

You curled back toward the window and let your breathing slow. You weren’t sad, exactly. Just…suspended. Like the flight itself, in motion, but not really arriving yet. Somewhere in-between.

Your last thought before sleep finally pulled you under was the way he’d said goodbye. His chin on your head, his arms around you, that last kiss, so soft, so real. Then, nothing but the sky.

Many hours later, you’d arrived back in your city and made your way home, exhaustion dragging your feet inside. You dropped your bag in the hallway and let the silence of your home fill your ears, a relief after the constant sound of the plane engine, along with the bustling airport upon your arrival. The weekend had felt like something out of a dream, one where time ticked differently, slower, sweeter. Now it was back to reality, back to work, back to responsibilities. The silence made it all feel farther away than it should.

You made it as far as your bedroom before collapsing onto the bed on your back, phone still in your hand. You flicked through your notifications, Isabella tracking your location and flight, and other notifications of friends liking your Instagram story. Opening your message, you typed out your text to Lewis.

Home safe x

You weren’t expecting an instant reply. He was probably just checking into Tokyo by now, or stuck in traffic, or possibly even halfway through a meeting. His schedule was jam packed and time zone differences made it even harder to determine what he might be up to. You busied yourself checking in with Isabella, who wanted to hear everything about your time with Lewis, sending photos and listening to her voice notes as she provided you with an update of her own.

However, not even five minutes later, your phone buzzed again. This time, it was Lewis.

Glad you made it safe x Got in a while ago, had a quick workout [1 image attached]

You nearly dropped the phone on your face when the image loaded, your eyes widening slightly as you lifted yourself into a seated position. Attached was a mirror selfie of him shirtless, sitting on the edge of the bed in his Tokyo hotel room, his braids tied back, with a towel slung around his shoulders, track pants sitting low on his hips. His phone caught the angle just enough to show off the definition in his muscled arms, his tattoos on full display. The lighting was soft and golden, the glow from the lamps pooling across his skin.

Shirtless photos of Lewis weren’t new to you, he enjoyed posting them on his Instagram stories every now and then, making your breath catch when they would pop up on your screen as you scrolled. Except this time, the photo was only for your eyes to see, and there was something intimate about it.

You blinked, chewing your lower lip as you trailed your eyes over the photo again, trying to come up with a response that appreciated how insanely sexy he looked, while not coming off desperate for him.

Words reeled through your mind as you tapped against the screen, before typing your message.

I miss that view…

Your thumb hovered over the send button, staring at your message hesitantly. Then, you bit the bullet and tapped the button with an exhale, half regretting it already. You tossed your phone on the bed and smiled to yourself, warmth creeping into your cheeks. You were unbelievably gone for this man.

It wasn’t long before your phone vibrated again.

It’s not the same without you.

Your traitorous heart flipped in your chest as you took a breath. Sitting back against your pillows, you read the message again and tried not to grin like an idiot. You didn’t respond straight away, a part of you didn’t know how. The flirty tension had always been there, but it felt different now, loaded with what had already happened, what might still come.

The days and weeks that followed seemed to blend together into a blur as you both returned to your separate realities. Your work felt busier than ever, with an unfathomable number of meetings, deadlines, forgotten lunches, half-read emails. It often left your body exhausted, but your mind reeling and loud. You told yourself it was just a phase, that life was just catching up with you both, however, there was a growing silence between texts that began to feel heavier as time passed.

Lewis would still message sometimes, with a short call or some photos here and there, but it wasn’t every day, and not always when you needed him to. His name would light up your screen mid-meeting or just as you were brushing your teeth for bed, and your heart would react before your brain could catch up. Even a simple ‘hey’ could unravel you, tugging deep in your chest.

The truth was, it seemed as though you'd talked more before everything happened. Before Shanghai, before the kiss and that night together. Back when you were just friends, back when you hadn’t crossed a line that you now weren’t sure how to uncross, or if either of you wanted to.

Now, the space between his replies had begun to stretch for longer periods of time, and sometimes you’d stare at your phone wondering if you’d imagined the way he’d looked at you. Or worse, if it had all meant more to you than it had to him. Sometimes, it made things worse even when he did text, because it reminded you of what you were missing. Not just him, but how he used to make you feel.

Now, you felt like you were waiting for something that wasn’t coming.

Five weeks had now passed since Shanghai.

The first week, you watched the Japanese Grand Prix alone, curled up on your couch with a blanket and your go-to snacks.

You’d sent him a simple good luck message, with a picture of your TV screen displaying his handsome face in the pre-show, letting him know you were watching. You had always watched when you could, it was almost a weekend ritual for you at this point.

Lewis finished P7, climbing one place up from his starting position with a clean overtake, while the rest of the grid stayed mostly the same. The commentators called it a race which was difficult to overtake on, and it was mostly a ‘safe’ race, which you knew was their polite way of saying uneventful.

He hadn’t replied, but you understood, as you’d seen him during many race days before and knew he likely wouldn’t get a chance to even check his phone until hours after the race. Still, you sent a follow up with encouraging words.

Great job today. I know it’s not what you wanted, looked like the car was fighting you the whole time. Proud of you though❤️

He replied a few hours later.

Thank you x It was a tough one, still getting used to this car. On to the next.

On to the next. Always forward, never lingering. That was the way of the sport, the way of Lewis. He never let it weigh too heavily after the disappointment washed away for the day.

You stared at the message for a moment before responding in agreement and adding encouraging words to cheer him on for the next race in the triple header.

He reacted to your text with a heart, but didn’t reply after that, following only with a check in on how you’re doing two days later.

The second week, the Bahrain Grand Prix came and went in a haze of heat and shimmering fireworks as the cars darted around the track in a blur. You didn’t manage to catch the race live this time after work had flooded your weekend, but you’d kept an eye on the results throughout the 57 laps.

The sound of his voice on the radio in qualifying still ran through your mind, making your heart ache as he apologised to the team. However, Lewis managed to climb from P9 to P5 in the race, the podium teasing him as he inched closer.

You scrolled through photos on Instagram after midnight, his natural curls loose under his cap, his jaw sharp as always, and his eyes looked tired. Focused as always, yet distant.

You hesitated before sending your message this time, typing a few letters and deleting each time until you settled for a simple message.

You were amazing, looked like a tough race. Proud of you as always x

This time, his reply didn’t come until the next morning.

Yeah we’re slowly getting there. Hope your week has been good.

It was a kind, polite, but distant response. The kind of message you’d send to a colleague, or maybe someone you didn’t know how to talk to anymore.

You started typing.

It’s been a long week. I miss you.

But you deleted it, hesitant at the vulnerability of your words, then typed again.

Just the usual, super busy this week.

He didn’t heart it or reply this time.

Hours passed until the sun had long set, so you stared at the grey ‘Delivered’ status for longer than you should’ve, then shoved your phone under your pillow and went to bed with a tense headache building behind your eyes.

That night, you dreamt of the hands you missed, and the voice you weren’t hearing as often. The version of him that felt just out of reach, slipping away through your fingers and dragging your heart down with disappointment.

Week three came Saudi Arabia. You’d had dinner with Isabella that Sunday, and at some point between bites, she’d dropped the kind of casual bomb that left you distracted for the rest of the meal.

“By the way,” she’d said, chopsticks hovering in the air, “I’ve been meaning to tell you. I saw Lewis at the Rimowa event the other night.”

You looked up from your plate fast. “You did?”

She nodded, chewing. “He looked good. He seemed distracted, but he said hi. We didn’t talk long though, but…”

“But?”

“He asked about you.” She put her chopsticks down and took a sip of her drink.

Your pulse jumped for a moment as you blinked in response. “He did?”

“Yeah. He said-” she cleared her throat, imitating his calm voice and his accent, “‘How’s she doing?’ It was very chill, but it wasn’t nothing. I told him you were okay, and that you’ve been busy.”

“Is that all he said?” You queried, poking at your food in an attempt to calm the small glimmer of hope in your chest.

“Well…” she gave you a knowing look. “He also said he’s been meaning to come see you, but things have been non-stop lately. He said that he’s sorry, and that he’s just…swamped.”

You chewed on your lower lip gently as you took her words in, releasing the breath that you’d been holding.

He still knew how to say the right things. He still sent emojis, still asked about you through your best friend, still claimed he meant to call or visit soon. But at the end of the day, three weeks after you’d last seen him, he hadn’t, not in any way that counted. If he truly meant to see you, to reach out to you, why hadn’t he just said it to you directly?

He was everywhere except where you needed him, all over the world, in conversations with everyone but you. Before, even when you were just friends, he’d always shown up for you. Now he sent simple and polite texts every few days and expected that to be enough. The worst part though, was that sometimes, it almost was.

You didn’t press further, but the words stirred in your mind as the night went on, and Isabella noticed your silence, but wasn’t quite aware of the distance growing between Lewis and yourself.

Later, you curled up with Isabella on her couch, the last of your drink sweating in the glass on the coffee table as the Saudi Arabian Grand Prix played out on her TV. The lights went out in Jeddah, but you barely said a word. Isabella scolded you for biting your nails as you watched Lewis defend against Lando, your heart racing despite the lingering emptiness you’d been feeling from his absence.

Lewis finished P7. It was respectable, but definitely not where he wanted to be. His post-race interviews were tense to say the least as he expressed his discomfort with the car. His cap sat low atop his curls, casting a shadow over his beautiful, yet disappointed eyes. You could see the way he was trying to hold it all together, especially seeing as his teammate, Charles, had finished on the podium.

He kept a polite smile where he could, but his answers remained short and his jaw clenched tight with every word. It made your heart twist with an ache, wishing you could reach through the screen to comfort him.

“Damn,” Isabella remarked as you continued watching the post race press. “He looks so…”

“Defeated. Yeah.” You completed her sentence with a low breath, reaching for your drink.

There was a long pause, the low sound of the TV filling the quiet. Engine noise and crowd roars blurred softly in the background, a replay of race highlights playing out on low volume. You picked at the edge of your sleeve, glaring down at the fabric. The warmth of dinner lingered in your stomach, but your chest felt strangely hollow still.

Isabella glanced over from where she was sprawled into the other corner of the couch, with half her attention on you, the other on the screen. Then, you felt her gaze burn into your side for a prolonged moment.

You sighed, meeting her eyes. “What?”

“You’re doing that thing you do,” she started, her tone soft but knowing. “Where you go really quiet and pretend you’re not spiraling.”

You retorted with a flat look. “I’m not spiraling.”

“You’re thinking about how he hasn’t messaged you in days.” She raised her eyebrows, scooting closer to you on the couch.

“He did text after Bahrain.” You tried to defend yourself weakly.

She tilted her head. “Yeah, once? Just a lame check in and no reply.”

You didn’t answer, dropping your gaze back to where you’d twisted a small thread from your sleeve.

Isabella leaned forward, setting her glass on the table. “Babe, that’s not enough. Not after everything that’s happened between you.”

You shrugged, but the motion felt small. “He’s probably just busy, as always.”

“He’s always busy. He was busy before Shanghai too, but he still made enough time to take you away for a weekend and fuck you.” She pressed gently despite her harsh words.

You pressed your lips together, your eyebrows knitting into a frown. “I just…don’t know what to do.”

Isabella sighed, standing and grabbing her phone from the kitchen counter. “Post that picture.”

You blinked in confusion with a tilt of your head. “What picture?”

“The one I took at dinner.” She clarified as she unlocked her phone. “You looked gorgeous. Like, beyond stunning. You should post it.”

You shook your head, shrinking back into your seat. “I’m not going to bait him.”

“Please. You used to post stories all the time before things got all complicated between you. Plus, this isn’t about him. It’s about reminding yourself of what you already know, that you’re a fucking catch and more.”

You hesitated at the thought. “It just feels a little…”

“He asked about you,” she added, quieter now. “He’s clearly been thinking about you, so maybe he’s not totally out of the picture, but that doesn’t mean you have to sit in the shadows waiting for him to remember you.”

You didn’t say anything, just watched as she tapped her photo gallery, and turned the screen toward you, displaying the photo she was referring to. You were mid-laugh, head tilted with your elbow resting casually on the table and the bracelet Lewis had gifted you around your wrist. The lighting was warm, gold and low, catching the highlights on your skin and the curve of your lips. You looked happy in it. While your smile didn’t completely reach your eyes, it felt like a version of yourself you hadn’t seen in a few weeks while trapped in your funk.

You looked confident and unbothered, even if that wasn’t entirely true. You stared at the photo for a few more seconds.

“You look beautiful,” Isabella murmured, looping her arm with yours. “Even if you’re a little heart sore.”

Her words pushed you over the precipice of your decision, a small rush of anticipation flooding your veins. You reached for your own phone and accepted the photo when she sent it to you. You chose a song that you loved over the top on Instagram, and after another breath of hesitation, you hit ‘Share to Story.’

The photo went up, with many likes from your close friends and family. Several minutes later, your phone buzzed again, three times in a row.

lewishamilton liked your story.

lewishamilton reacted to your story: 🔥🔥

You stared at your screen, your thumb hovering over the notifications, while your breath caught in your throat. Part of you knew he would see it and react, he always did without fail whenever you posted. This time, he hadn’t messaged you in days, but here he was, slipping back into your world like nothing had changed, and reacting to your life as though he was still fully present.

Then, another notification appeared on your screen. A text from Lewis.

You look beautiful

You felt your cheeks flush at his compliment, swallowing the tightness in your throat as you thumbed the side of your phone case.

Then, another.

Hope you’re having a good night

The three dots continued to wiggle as he typed, though it lingered for longer than you’d like. You wondered if he was either typing out a paragraph, or if your phone had just glitched. Until, a third text arrived.

I miss those lips

You froze, noticing Isabella’s eyes glued to your screen as the notifications appeared, reading each message quickly from your side. It was almost embarrassing for her to see the messages.

“Wow,” she breathed, tilting to look at your flushed face. “Okay, Romeo. Very subtle.”

You didn’t respond, your stomach had bottomed out, and your fingers trembled slightly with your phone in your grip as your mouth dried out. Words like that held a heavy weight, and from this far away, you didn’t know if he meant them in a moment of loneliness, longing, or just lust.

You missed him. You missed so much, but you also missed when it felt simple. When you didn’t have to wonder if saying something back would leave you more exposed than you already felt. Still, you typed:

It’s not fair for you to say stuff like that from halfway across the world

And before you could hesitate or take it back, you sent it.

The dots popped up almost instantly.

You’re right I’ll say it closer next time

A part of you lit up while another part dimmed as you read his response. You could hear your heart thudding in your ears, but another part of you almost laughed bitterly. Because what did that even mean? And when would the next time be?

When?

Your thumb hovered over the send button of the word you’d typed out. The question blinked up at you from the screen, small and hopeful, maybe a little desperate. You didn’t like the way it made your stomach twist.

Isabella shifted beside you, just close enough to catch the single word before you could tilt the screen away. She didn’t say anything though, didn’t tease or smirk or prod. Just let the silence sit between you for a moment as you contemplated.

Then you backspaced slowly, letter by letter until it disappeared. You set your phone down, face down on the table, and leaned back into the couch with a sigh you didn’t mean to let out.

Isabella watched, her voice low. “You okay?”

You nodded, but your voice was a little too quiet to be convincing. “Yeah.”

She didn’t press, only nudged her shoulder lightly into yours and reached for the remote, the two of you watching the post-race interviews fade into the low hum of background noise while your mind stayed wrapped around the unanswered question.

Week four came sooner than expected, with the Miami Grand Prix well underway.

The latest Vogue magazine had been sitting on your coffee table for a week. A clean, perfect copy that Isabella had handed off a few days ago with a knowing smile, “Figured you’d want this before the rest of the world gets their hands on it.”

Though you hadn’t asked for it, you also hadn’t been able to stop yourself from opening it. Lewis looked unreal on the black and white cover, in a polished Ferragamo suit tailored perfectly to his fit body. He was as handsome as ever, with his cleanly lined facial hair framing his lush lips and his piercing eyes staring back at you from the shiny cover. The same ones that had looked into your own so affectionately only weeks before.

The photos in the magazine were filled with the kind of effortless sex appeal that made your stomach twist, partly because of how good he looked, and partly because you knew him. The way he spoke softly when he was tired, the way his eyebrows creased a little when he was reading something, the way his lips felt on yours.

He wasn’t just a Formula One legend or a model in a magazine. He was yours once, if only for a weekend. If only in soft whispers, late night touches and sweet kisses.

Now came the day of the Miami Grand Prix, where you were wrapped up cozily on your couch watching with your cup in hand.

You’d watched the sprint the day before with a sort of detached curiosity, telling yourself it didn’t mean anything, it was just background noise while you cleaned the kitchen. Just racing, just another weekend.

Then, Lewis took P3 and then the press conference started.

You shouldn’t have watched it, you should’ve turned it off after the last lap and walked away, gone on with your day. Instead you found yourself leaning against the counter, half a dish in your hand, watching him on screen in just his black Ferrari vest and brown pants, his arms bare and golden against the cream white couch.

The camera lingered while he sipped his drink, his expensive watch catching the light and his muscles flexing as he scratched the side of his jaw, his braids neatly covered by his cap. He was happy with his result as he answered incoming questions, explaining where he’d found strength in the car. However, the way he looked while saying it was completely unfair. The vest shouldn’t have been allowed.

You stared for longer than you meant to, unable to take your eyes off him as the press conference continued.

Sunday’s race was another story.

He’d qualified P12, so the race started tense, and only got worse as the laps built up. Strategy calls were slow, losing Lewis too much time to catch up with the drivers ahead and leading to some strained radio messages playing over the race that made you sit up in your seat.

Lewis sounded agitated, with sarcasm dripping from his voice as he offered to let Carlos through from behind him. You could hear the disappointment in his tone over the messy communication, where they’d provided either too much information while he was in battle, or nothing at all when he needed it most.

Your jaw clenched as you fidgeted with the charm on your bracelet, wishing the ache in your chest away. It was his sixth race with Ferrari, and nothing seemed to be improving for him. The communication with this race engineer only seemed to get worse as the weeks went by.

Eventually, he finished at P8, with Charles at P7 just ahead. He remained polished and professional in the post-race interviews, keeping a smile on his face as he explained that he had enjoyed the race despite the tension in the radios. However, you could see the disappointment in the way his smile never quite reached his eyes and his shoulders tensed.

You didn’t plan on it, but after hearing his voice, your heart ached to make sure that he was alright, so you waited a while before texting him. Things had been somewhat quiet between you over the last few days, but you wanted him to know that you were still in his corner, even if it was from a distance.

Looked like a tough one today. You okay?

He didn’t reply for two hours.

You’d left your phone on the armrest and gone to make something to eat, half-expecting no response at all, but when the screen lit up, your heart jumped anyway.

Yeah it was a mess, but I’m okay I appreciate you

You stared down at the screen and suddenly hated how much you wanted to believe that it wasn’t just politeness or a routine response. You wanted to believe that he still thought of you when the adrenaline wore off, but it felt like you were only slipping further away.

You couldn’t bring yourself to reply at that moment. You couldn’t figure out how to without sounding like you were trying to fix something he didn’t even seem to notice was broken.

The next day however, came with the buzz of the 2025 Met Gala, in which Lewis was a co-chair. It was hours before the event when your phone vibrated with texts from Lewis.

You’d already been half-scrolling through your newsfeed, filled with teaser content from the Met. The carpet hadn’t started yet, but press coverage was building, the energy already pulsing from across the ocean.

You blinked down at the screen, a warmth spreading in your chest despite everything that had happened the last few weeks.

Attached were two photos. The first was a mirror shot, taken just moments ago in his hotel suite, and the second was a professional photo taken by his team. Lewis was dressed in a custom cream coloured suit, tailored perfectly to his body along with a sash embroidered in cowrie shells and a matching beret. He looked absolutely perfect, elegant, with the most beautiful symbolism displayed subtly across his entire look, encapsulating the theme of the night.

What do you think?

You stared at the screen for too long, breath still as you took in how beautiful he was. Lewis always looked amazing, and yet he still managed to blow you away with this look. Your fingers hovered before you responded.

You look incredible, have the best night

Your message was short and safe, but his reply only seconds later made your stomach flutter in a way that left you conflicted.

Wish you were here

It was tender and casual, but it didn’t match the distance you felt in the last few weeks.

The message felt like it belonged to a different version of you, one from a month ago, who still felt close enough to reach. A part of you felt as though you didn’t know if it was meant for you.

You pressed your palm to your chest, and breathed in. It hurt a little, in that way things hurt when you don’t quite trust them anymore.

Later that night, Isabella arrived with pizza and drinks, “Because the Met Gala and carbs go hand in hand.”

You watched the Met livestream together on her couch, pointing out the different outfits and rating them as if you were Anna Wintour herself. When Lewis stepped onto the midnight blue carpet, effortlessly cool and composed, your pulse raced.

He looked breathtaking. The cameras loved him as he made his way through and interviewers gushed over him. He deserved it all.

And yet, all you could feel was the distance, the sting of watching him belong to a world that felt so far from reach. A world that would never know you.

You didn’t hear from him again the following day, assuming that he’d gotten caught up in the rest of the night and most likely the afterparty. At lunchtime, you’d found yourself scrolling through social media again mindlessly, when your finger slipped and the app refreshed. New content surged to the top of the feed, and that’s when the ache you’d been feeling in your heart came to a climax.

The first post was a screenshot of a crisp editorial shot of Nicole Scherzinger from the Met Gala.

She looked stunning in the black and white photo, with that kind of unattainable beauty you only saw on perfume billboards and designer runways. Her gown was covered in pinstripes, her shoulders bare with a large black cape, a confident tilt to her chin as she stared down the camera.

You recognised her instantly, as everyone did. She’d been the WAG, the only one the world ever thought Lewis would settle down with, the only one he ever publicly claimed. Their seven year relationship had been splashed across headlines and red carpets. She’d even traveled with him and was regularly seen in the Paddock.

Beneath the photo, the poster had highlighted that Lewis had liked the photo Nicole had posted.

You told yourself it was nothing, a harmless liked photo.

Then came the second post, a fan edit, already with over 20,000 likes. A soft piano instrumental layered over clips of the two of them; Lewis and Nicole, laughing as they walked hand in hand, interviews together on red carpets, her tears in the Paddock, the famous helmet kiss when he had won. You watched him in the videos, the way he looked at her as though she was the moon and the stars. His soft smile, they looked so in love.

Your stomach turned, your mouth watering with nausea as the tight lump in your throat squeezed. The videos, the photos, and the comments all blended together to cloud your thoughts with all the reasons he should be with her.

You understood it, you really did. They looked like they belonged together. The kind of couple who loved each other deeply and were well on their way to marriage. It wasn’t just the fans that missed it, and you could see why.

However, the caption stung even more:

“She’s still the one. Idc if she’s engaged. They were endgame 💔”

You knew Nicole had been engaged for a while to a rugby player, so you breathed out, slowly in relief, trying to remain rational at the reminder. He wasn’t getting back with her, surely not. That part was over.

Then the third post hit, with a carousel of images. Three other women all dressed to kill, and all photographed on the Met carpet that night. Each one had, at some point in the last two years, been linked to Lewis in tabloids.

Flings, rumors, summer romances. Whatever name they’d given it, the meaning was always the same, it didn’t last.

And the comment section only made it worse.

“Lewis literally invited all his exes as the Met 💀” “He’s so unserious lol” “No way all of them are here by accident. This man is chaos.”

You locked your phone to take a breather, but the urge to continue was irresistible, and so you returned to scrolling where your feed was soon flooded with photos and rumors.

Nowhere in your message thread did Lewis say much beyond the suit and wish you were here. He hadn’t owed you a full itinerary and you knew that.

Yet still, you hadn’t expected to see her. Or the posts, the likes, or the way the edits kept pulling him into the same frame as the women he’d been linked to before, Nicole, Shakira, some model you’d never even heard of.

He’d sent you those messages, the photos, the softness, while being tagged in someone else’s world. It made everything feel hollow, as though maybe you’d just been another notch on his bedpost, another fling that only lasted a weekend.

You knew how this game worked, Lewis had always been beautiful, charismatic, talented. Women liked him, women flocked to him.

And you? You were just…you.

A friend, until you weren’t, a maybe, until he decided otherwise.

You refreshed the feed again to more photos, more headlines, more noise, feeling your breath become shallow. Then, the next wave.

Posts of Lewis photographed with Blackpink’s Rosé. They weren’t touching, but close enough to spark speculation. One photo showed them laughing, but the other was a stack of photobooth photos.

One with both of them smiling, side by side, another of them flashing peace signs. Rosé pulled a dramatic pout in the third photo, while Lewis touched a finger to his lip. Then the final photo, where she wore his sunglasses, and he gave a serious smoulder. It was playful and harmless really.

You knew the narrative was already writing itself before you even looked at the comments, but it didn’t stop your stomach from turning, because all you could think about were your photo booth pictures still tucked in your nightstand drawer.

The ones that captured the joy and excitement of that day. The ones that had snapped a moment in time of him kissing you. Those photos had felt private, like the memory inked into glossy paper.

Your mind replayed those flashes, but all you saw was how easy it was for him to step into the same frame with someone else. How not special it suddenly all seemed.

You hated how quickly the doubt crept in, how easily it whispered that maybe he just does this with everyone. You tried to shake the thoughts, but your eyes burned with tears brimming at your lash line. Lewis hadn’t been cold exactly, and he hadn’t ghosted you or given you anything to hate him for, but this limbo was its own kind of heartbreak.

The room suddenly felt too quiet, too loud, and way too small. You sat back in your seat, blinking at the ceiling like that would somehow help, like that would stop the way your chest ached as you tried to breathe through it.

Your wrist felt cold with the metal of your bracelet, Or maybe it was just your brain, but suddenly the bracelet felt wrong. Heavy where it had once been warm, like it didn’t belong there anymore. You stared down at it, toying with the edges of the flower.

You’d worn it nearly every day since he’d given it to you, but now it just felt cold on your skin.

The thought hit you so hard, it knocked the air from your lungs; What if none of it ever meant as much to him as it did to you?

You tugged it off, your fingers fumbling, shaky as you unclasped it. It fell into your palm with a soft clink, and you just stared at it, like it might give you an answer, but it didn’t.

None of this made sense. One minute, he was sending you photos, saying he missed your lips, that he wished you were there. The next, he was lighting up timelines with women the internet adored, laughing in photo booths, liking his ex’s photos like history hadn’t even blinked.

You felt…stupid. So stupid.

This wasn’t new to you, the girls, the speculation, the edits. You’d known what world he lived in, raced in, breathed in, but you’d let yourself fall anyway.

Now, sitting alone in your quiet apartment with that damn bracelet digging into your palm, all you could think was that maybe the world was right. Maybe you were just another passing face, a detour in his life as he continued to live his dreams.

You tried to tell yourself it wasn’t that deep, that you were reading into things, that there could be another side to this.

You closed your fingers around the bracelet and made your way down the hall with purpose, where there were a few too many reminders of Lewis. His jacket that he’d given to you, the Ferrari merch, and that last hoodie he’d gifted you still sat on the back of your desk chair.

You sat on the edge of your bed, every movement suddenly extra careful, as though if you moved too loud the whole memory of him might collapse. You picked out the photobooth strip from Shanghai from your nightstand and slipped them out gently.

One strip with four frames. Your fingertips grazed the glossy paper, tracing each square like they might give you a clue or a sign that you’d missed. For the first time in weeks, you let yourself ask it out loud:

“What happened?”

It sounded hollow in the room.

You’d thought you were careful, you’d been friends for some time, and you hadn’t let yourself fall for him immediately. Yet, somewhere in all your conversations, in the hours spent getting to know each other, in the way he’d held you that night like you were everything he wanted, you’d let yourself believe that you weren’t just a moment, that it wasn’t just a weekend.

Now he was in photo booths with someone else. Now the world was posting even more edits of him with his ex. Now you were left trying to make sense of the silence.

You pressed your hand to your chest, like it might soothe the pain. All it did was remind you that it was real. Maybe all of this had been a dream you’d woken up from too late.

You barely remembered the rest of the day or falling asleep that night as it all blurred together in a numbness that had taken over your mind, but in the early hours of the morning, the vibrations started.

At first, you turned over with a groan with your face pressed into your pillow, desperate to stay under as you thought it may just be your alarms going off that morning. However, your phone didn’t stop buzzing. It kept lighting up over and over with the screen flashing like it was trying to drag you out of the only bit of peace you’d managed to find.

You squinted at the screen as you reached over, your aching heart already skipping. You had twelve missed calls from Isabella, with a load of texts, and an unfathomable amount of notifications from your social media platforms.

You flicked through the messages from Isabella.

Babe please wake up It’s everywhere WAKE UP NOW Call me asap WAAAAAAAAAAAAAKEEEEE UUUUUPPPPPPP

Your stomach dropped so fast it made you dizzy as you sat up in bed, the covers falling away. Your fingers trembled as you unlocked your phone, the screen nearly blinding you in the dark. You opened the link Isabella had sent, and it hit you like a punch to the chest, your stomach dropping to a pit while heat rushed up your neck.

Photos. Of you, of Lewis.

The first showed you and Lewis at the Shanghai airport, standing beneath the departure board. His arm slung over your chest and shoulders like it belonged there, his lips at the crown of your head from behind. You were leaning into him slightly, eyes up at the screen, the kind of moment no one was supposed to see.

The second was worse.

It was mid-kiss. His hands at your waist, holding you close, while yours touched his jaw and chest. It was intimate. The way your fingers held his face like you knew the feel of him and his lips were on yours, like it was a goodbye that had weight.

It felt like you were seeing yourself from the outside, except this time, the world was seeing it too. The photos weren’t completely clear, they looked like someone had recognised Lewis and snapped them quickly.

The comments were filled with speculation, insults, compliments, and invaded your privacy to levels you had never known possible.

“That’s def Lewis. You can see the tattoos on his hand.” “She’s literally wearing his hoodie” “Wait, is that the girl from Australia? I swear she was in the paddock.” “Yeah, and she was at the China sprint too.” “Isn’t she friends with that girl who does PR for F1? PR vibes tbh.” “She’s literally sucking his face off ew.” “It’s kind of nice that he’s with someone not famous.” “I think I found her on Linkedin.” “They actually look so cute I love this!!” “He literally liked his ex’s Met Gala pic yesterday, lmao. She’s def another fling.”

Each post felt like a stone hurled at you. Some comments were kind, or confused, while others were brutal. They picked apart your looks, your job, your worth, like you were a stranger they’d been handed permission to judge.

Your mouth dried out and your lungs felt tight. You couldn’t tell if your heart was racing or if everything around you had just gone eerily still. Panic settled into your bones and you felt frozen, paralysed by the insanity playing out. Your life had suddenly been blasted into the spotlight. People knew who you were, what you did, who you were friends with, and they saw you with him.

You hadn’t even gotten out of bed yet, the duvet still tangled around your legs. The morning sun slowly poured in, the sting in your eyes burning from fear.

You swiped away from the post, you couldn’t even think. You just needed someone, so you pulled up Isabella’s name and hit call. She picked up instantly.

She picked up before the first ring even finished.

“Thank god,” she breathed. “Are you okay? Are you…did you see it?”

“I-yeah. I just woke up,” you managed to speak out, your voice rough, like it had been dragged out of your throat. “The photos.”

“I know.” Her tone was careful now, steady but edged with worry. “It’s everywhere. I think it started spreading sometime after midnight.”

You rubbed your forehead, pacing your room like it might help you process what was happening. “But why now? I thought Shanghai would be…quieter. Aren’t paps illegal over there?”

“It was probably a fan who got lucky. He had the hoodie and sunglasses on, but it seems like the tattoos gave him away. And people are pulling receipts, paddock photos, Australia, the sprint…”

You stopped pacing. “They know who I am, Iz. My name. Where I work.”

“I know, girl. I’m so sorry. You need to make your accounts private. Like, right now.”

You sank down onto the edge of your bed, numbness flowing through your skin. “They’re calling it PR and saying I’m only there because of you.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.” Isabella hissed from her end of the call.

“The comments are brutal too, I…” You trailed off, unable to say the words. “My whole life is out there now.”

Isabella’s voice softened. “I saw them. They’re wrong, you know they are. But I get it, it’s a lot. It’s too much. I wish I could take it away.”

You swallowed, throat thick. “It’s just, on top of all this, I didn’t even know what this was yet. We didn’t have a chance to make sense of anything. And now everyone has something to say.”

“I know,” she whispered. “I know, babe.”

You sat there in silence for a moment, the kind that sits heavy, unsaid words building between breaths. Then your phone buzzed again, and this time it was a call.

Lewis.

The name blazed across your screen, as if the light had changed temperature, hot and cold all at once.

Your heart stuttered with a spike of panic, dread, confusion, all flooding your chest. You couldn’t move at first, like your body was frozen, suspended in a moment you weren’t ready to deal with.

“He’s calling,” you whispered, barely able to suck in a breath.

“Lewis?” Isabella asked, her tone shifting.

You didn’t respond right away, you just stared at the screen.

His name pulsed across it, as if mocking you with every soft vibration. You could practically hear his voice already. The calm, deep voice that used to make you feel safe and steadied your heart every time. Now it made it race for all the wrong reasons.

Isabella’s voice came through again, firmer this time. “Are you going to answer?”

You hesitated, thumb hovering over the screen.

“I don’t know.” Your voice cracked. “What if he’s upset? What if he thinks this is my fault? What if-”

“He wouldn’t,” she replied, quick and certain. “And if he does, then you’ll hang up. But I don’t think that’s why he’s calling.”

“What if he doesn’t care?” you asked, even softer. “What if this really was just a weekend to him and now he’s sorry it got out?”

Isabella’s voice was soft and comforting through the speaker as she coaxed you. “Then it’s better you know now. Talk to him.”

The phone vibrated again with Lewis’ name flashing across the screen. You took a shaky breath and answered.

You could barely bring yourself to speak, your voice trapped in your throat, but you managed a meek hello.

“Hey.” He greeted after a breath.

That one word made all the strength you’d been holding together crack. Lewis’ voice, while low and careful, was so normal it made the chaos of the morning feel even more absurd.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

The question knocked the air from your lungs. You weren’t even sure where to begin, you had barely had a moment to process your life being turned upside down. Your tongue felt like sandpaper in your mouth, your throat too tight to speak.

He said your name, this time a little lower, like he was reaching for you through the phone. “Talk to me, please.”

“I don’t know,” you whispered. “I don’t really know how to feel. It’s a lot.”

There was a silence, and then a sound that might’ve been a sigh, but it sounded more like guilt clothed in breath.

“I’m so sorry,” he started. “This shouldn’t have happened. I should’ve protected you from it.”

Your eyes filled again, too full this time and spilling over just a little. The sound of his voice cut through everything, the panic, the confusion, the noise online, the comments, the spiraling, all of it.

“I hate that this is happening to you,” he continued, his voice rougher now, like it physically pained him. “I should’ve been more careful. You didn’t ask for any of this.”

A lump swelled in your throat. It was true, you didn’t sign up for any of this. The comments, the speculation, the cruelty. Your name on gossip accounts and your face picked apart by people behind their keyboards.

“You don’t deserve it,” Lewis continued, quieter now. “I shouldn’t have let this happen.”

You didn’t respond. You didn’t know what to say. A part of you wanted to forgive him right there, but the other part didn’t know how to.

“Tell me what you need.” His voice was barely above a whisper, gentler this time. “Whatever it is, sweetheart, I’ll handle it.”

His words landed like a punch to the chest. Your fingers curled tighter around the phone, the ache behind your ribs had grown sharp and heavy. Though, underneath it all, your heart beat with something dangerously close to relief. He didn’t sound indifferent or distant..

“I need to see you.” He said suddenly.

You froze, completely lost for words.

“I want to be there with you,” he spoke again. “This isn’t fair to you. Let’s figure it out together. I’ll get on the first flight there, right now, if you’ll have me.”

“You want to come here?” you asked, softly, still stunned.

“Of course, I hate that you’re going through this alone.” His sincerity clung to every syllable.

Just like that, the pain that coursed through your veins eased, just a little, knowing that he was coming for you and that you would work through this together.

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see. “Okay.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can. Just hang in there for me, alright sweetheart?”

“Okay,” you replied again. “I will.”

Eventually, the call dropped and you stared at the blank screen, his name now gone. You sat there frozen for a moment, your phone pressed to your chest, and the sound of your heart thudding in your ears.

Lewis was coming.

Taglist: @sltwins @ernegren @sher-ni @skzvibes-blog 🤍🤍

[knowinglewis]

So uhhh...this final chapter is 3 quarters done and I'm currently writing the final but now...and we're already at 11k words

I'm tempted to split it into two and just post it now so I can flesh out the last bit separately, especially seeing as the smut option is winning!

Also could be nice to go out with a bang, but we're looking at a solid 16k words for the end so I hope you're all ready for a LONG ass read hehehe

For those beautiful people who have been reading my Fading Lines series, I promise I will have the final chapter up by the end of this week!

I’ve been trying really hard to get it done, I love this series so much, but it’s been really difficult with work being extra busy recently so I barely have time to breathe let alone write!

However, I’m having a bit of a dilemma with the second half and I can’t decide what to do, so I thought it better to ask:

I have written it out, but I want to gauge if it is preferred or not! Cannot wait to share the final chapter with you all! 🤍