#almostconfession

ꜰ1 x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ʟᴀɴᴅᴏ ɴᴏʀʀɪꜱ ᴀᴜ | ꜱᴇᴄᴏɴᴅ ᴄʜᴀɴᴄᴇꜱ + ʜᴇᴀʀᴛᴀᴄʜᴇ + ʜᴇᴀʟɪɴɢ

⚠️ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ:

ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ᴛᴇɴꜱɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ᴜɴʀᴇꜱᴏʟᴠᴇᴅ ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴛɪᴄ ᴄᴏɴꜰʟɪᴄᴛ

ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ᴀᴠᴏɪᴅᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛʙʀᴇᴀᴋ

ɪɴᴛɪᴍᴀᴛᴇ ᴄᴏɴꜰʀᴏɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ɪɴ ᴀ ᴘʀᴏꜰᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴᴀʟ ꜱᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ

ꜱɪɢɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴxɪᴇᴛʏ ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴɴᴇʀ ᴛᴜʀᴍᴏɪʟ

The following Friday arrived quicker than (Y/n) would have liked. The site visit had been confirmed for Château de Villeneuve, an exquisite 17th-century estate tucked away in the rolling hills of Provence. The perfect blend of elegance and intimacy, exactly what Kelly and Max were after.

And, of course, Lando would be joining.

(Y/n) had spent the week preparing herself, mentally and emotionally, for the visit. She’d buried herself in the logistics: coordinating with the chateau’s events team, arranging transport, confirming schedules. Anything to keep her mind off the memory of Lando cornering her in her office.

But the truth lingered, unshakable: her carefully constructed distance was beginning to crack.

They arrived at the estate shortly before noon.

The chateau was breathtaking, honey-hued stone walls, lavender fields swaying in the breeze, sprawling vineyards beyond. A dream setting for any couple.

Kelly stepped out of the car, her face alight with excitement. “Oh my God, this is gorgeous.”

Max followed, sunglasses in place, nodding in approval. “Not bad.”

Lando trailed behind them, hands stuffed in his pockets. His gaze flicked briefly to (Y/n), and though his expression was neutral, something simmered beneath the surface.

She greeted them all with a practiced smile. “Welcome to Château de Villeneuve. If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you around.”

They moved through the grounds: first the ceremony lawn, then the grand salon for the reception, the elegant dining terrace shaded by ancient oaks.

Kelly was enchanted. “It’s perfect. Exactly what I imagined.”

(Y/n) offered suggestions smoothly, where to position the florals, how to time the golden hour photos, the flow between ceremony and dinner.

Lando stayed mostly quiet, but his gaze rarely left her. Every time their eyes met, fleeting, accidental, it was like a static charge sparking between them.

And though she maintained her professional facade, inside, her nerves hummed.

After the site tour, they drove to Maison Blanc, an exclusive patisserie in Avignon for the cake tasting.

(Y/n) had arranged a private room, a sunlit space with cream paneling and antique mirrors.

An array of cakes awaited them on a long marble table: rich chocolate ganache, delicate lemon chiffon, pistachio and rose, classic vanilla bean. Artfully plated with fresh berries and edible flowers.

Kelly’s eyes sparkled. “This is heaven.”

As they took their seats, Celeste, who had joined them for the tasting, leaned in to (Y/n) and whispered, “I’ll handle Max and Kelly after this, so you can finalize the scheduling with the chateau.”

(Y/n) nodded gratefully. She was grateful for the small reprieve.

They began sampling the cakes, Kelly and Max debating flavors animatedly. Celeste guided them through the options while (Y/n) quietly observed.

At first, she hung back, old habits. She’d never had much of a sweet tooth.

But as the tasting continued, something odd happened. She found herself reaching for the small fork again and again, sampling bites of each cake, eyes lighting up at the subtle flavors.

Soft hums of pleasure escaped her lips, completely unconscious, as she savored a bite of pistachio rose, then a spoonful of dark chocolate mousse.

Lando noticed.

His brow furrowed slightly as he watched her—(Y/n), who used to push away dessert menus without a second glance—now indulging with clear enjoyment.

Something shifted in his chest.

After the tasting, as Celeste led Max and Kelly aside to discuss final choices, (Y/n) gathered her notes at the edge of the room.

And that’s when Lando seized the moment.

He crossed the space quickly, voice low but insistent. “We need to talk.”

(Y/n) startled slightly, glancing around. “Not here, Lando.”

But he blocked her path gently with an outstretched hand. “Just a minute. Please.”

She hesitated, torn between the instinct to retreat and the look in his eyes: not angry this time, but... confused. Searching.

Reluctantly, she nodded, stepping toward the quieter corner of the room.

He studied her closely, voice dropping. “You hate sweets.”

(Y/n) blinked, caught off guard. “I... used to.”

His brows drew together. “Since when?”

She looked away, heart thudding. “People change.”

His jaw flexed. “Yeah. You keep saying that.” He paused, breath shallow. “Why? Why all of it? You’re different. You’re here... running this empire. You’re smiling through these tastings like nothing ever happened.”

(Y/n) swallowed hard, forcing her voice to stay calm. “I’ve moved on, Lando. You should too.”

A bitter laugh escaped him. “You think that’s what this is? You think I haven’t tried?”

Her chest tightened painfully.

His gaze darkened. “You left. Without a word. No warning. No explanation. Just... gone.”

(Y/n)’s throat constricted. She wrapped her arms loosely around herself, voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t know what was happening.”

“Then tell me,” he said fiercely. “Right now. Because I’ve gone fucking mad trying to figure it out.”

She shook her head, panic rising. “I can’t.”

“Why?” His voice cracked. “Because of me? Because I messed up somehow? Just tell me, (Y/n).”

For one agonizing second, the truth hovered on her tongue. The real reason she’d walked away, the secret that still clawed at her every night.

But before she could speak—

Kelly’s bright voice called from across the room. “Lando! We’re done here! Ready to head out!”

The moment shattered.

(Y/n) blinked hard, swallowing the words that had nearly escaped.

Lando’s jaw tensed, frustration flickering in his eyes. But he masked it quickly.

Without another glance, he turned and strode toward Kelly and Max.

Leaving (Y/n) standing there, heart pounding, vision blurring, wondering how much longer she could keep the past buried.

Outside, as they prepared to leave, Lando lingered by the car, glancing back toward the patisserie’s entrance.

(Y/n) remained inside, composed once more, thanking the staff and gathering her things.

But inside, her walls were crumbling.

And she knew, deep down, that next time... next time, Lando might not let her off so easily.

To be continued...🧡

💍ᴛɪᴇꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ʙɪɴᴅ - ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 4: ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʀᴜᴛʜ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴜꜱ💍

📝 Note from the Author: Greetings to my dear Alarwynnites 🌙✨

First of all, let me just say… HOW did we end up in a 17th-century French château, tasting pistachio rose cakes, while Lando Norris is out here being emotionally unwell in a corner? 😂 I was just trying to write a nice little moment about lavender fields and emotional repression and suddenly, boom—cake-induced existential crises. Honestly, same.

Now before anything else, I want to give heartfelt credit where it’s due. This book is inspired by everlovingdeer and her brilliant one-shot Love and All Things Fake. You can find her on Wattpad. Her works are truly something special, but this one in particular stuck with me. Like… deeply. So here we are, spiraling emotionally together because I couldn’t get it out of my head. (Thanks, deer. I blame you. Lovingly.)

Also, let’s be real for a second. If anyone thinks this is plagiarism, feel free to say so. Genuinely. I won’t argue or rant. I’ll just quietly delete everything and move on to the next story. I have plenty of chaotic ideas waiting in the wings.

And finally, to the Alarwynnites who are still here, reading, feeling, crying, and possibly yelling into the void with me… thank you. Thank you for holding space for these messy characters, for your patience, and for your hearts.

With love, me 🧡

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