#bittersweetgoodbye

ꜰ1 x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ʟᴀɴᴅᴏ ɴᴏʀʀɪꜱ ᴀᴜ | ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ + ᴅʀᴀᴍᴀ + ʀᴇᴅᴇᴍᴘᴛɪᴏɴ

⚠️ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ:

ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ᴅɪꜱᴛʀᴇꜱꜱ & ɢʀɪᴇꜰ

ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴀʙᴀɴᴅᴏɴᴍᴇɴᴛ & ɢᴜɪʟᴛ

ɪɴᴠᴀꜱɪᴠᴇ ᴅɪꜱᴄᴏᴠᴇʀʏ ᴏꜰ ᴘʀɪᴠᴀᴛᴇ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ

ᴀᴍʙɪɢᴜᴏᴜꜱ ᴄᴏɴꜱᴇɴᴛ & ʙᴏᴜɴᴅᴀʀɪᴇꜱ

ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ ᴏꜰ ʜᴇᴀʟɪɴɢ & ᴅɪꜱᴀᴘᴘᴇᴀʀᴀɴᴄᴇ

ʟᴏɴɢɪɴɢ & ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ᴅᴇᴘᴇɴᴅᴇɴᴄʏ

The golden dusk slanted through the tall glass panes of McLaren HQ, casting long, sleepy shadows over the engineering tables and brushed aluminum flooring. A rare quiet had settled into the halls, the kind that only arrived at the tail end of chaos. Most of the team had trickled out, trailing behind the fading buzz of telemetry analysis and debrief chatter. But one desk remained occupied.

Lando stood before it, unmoving, eyes fixed on the slim hardcover book clutched in his hands. It was Lily’s personal copy. The very one he had been chasing for days, its title pressed elegantly in gold foil across the spine: A Title for Lily.

He hadn’t meant to take it. Truly, it wasn’t planned. But earlier that afternoon, in the flurry of meetings and the rush of packing for Monza, Lily had left it behind, abandoned on a bench in the debrief room. Forgotten. Or perhaps fate had grown tired of being subtle.

He had reached for it without hesitation, almost reverent in motion. His fingertips tingled. The moment he touched the cover, he knew he wouldn’t be able to walk away. Slowly, he opened it, the spine creaking beneath his grip. The scent of old paper and faint vanilla filled his lungs, familiar in a way that nearly undid him. He turned the pages one by one, scanning beautiful, deliberate prose, until he reached the final page.

And there it was, penned directly onto the back cover. A letter. Handwritten. Meant only for Lily.

Lando’s breath hitched.

His fingers trembled as his eyes followed the ink, drawn in the unmistakable flourish of Y/n’s hand. Though the words were intended for Lily, every line was steeped in memory, in reference, in pain that only he could decode. Every sentence cut deeper into him, carving gashes where guilt had already lived for too long.

I suppose the rain doesn’t sting quite as much in Forks. It’s quieter here, Lily. The kind of quiet that demands nothing of you. Sometimes I sit by the window, write until my fingers ache, and let the grey skies blur all my thoughts. You once asked what healing looked like. Maybe this is it. Wildflowers growing in moss, not needing to be seen.

A tear slipped silently down Lando’s cheek.

Please don’t tell him. I know you’ll want to. I know it’s hard to watch someone drown in guilt. But I’m not ready to be found.

His lips parted slightly. A tremor passed through his spine.

You were always the only one who knew how deeply I loved him. Maybe someday, he’ll deserve to know where I went. But not yet. Not until the silence feels like home.

He stared at her signature at the bottom of the page, his thumb tracing over it like it was sacred text. His shoulders curled inward, the weight of her absence settling like frost.

Then, a voice cleared behind him.

“Lando.”

He spun around, guilt sharp in his chest.

Oscar stood in the doorway, arms crossed, expression dark with wary understanding. Lando’s instincts kicked in—he stepped back, quickly, childlike, hiding the book behind him like a boy caught stealing something precious.

“I... it was just there,” Lando stammered. His voice was rough with emotion. “I didn’t mean to steal it. I just saw the... the letter, and I couldn’t stop.”

Oscar didn’t respond immediately. His gaze shifted from the hardcover to the tears on Lando’s face, then back again.

“Please,” Lando whispered, voice cracking. “Just let me finish it.”

Oscar sighed. The tension of months seemed to press down onto his shoulders as he stepped forward, leaned on the table, and looked away.

“Finish it.”

Lando blinked. “What?”

“I said finish it,” Oscar repeated. “She made it for Lily, yeah. But maybe it’s time you read it too.”

Relief poured out of Lando in one shaky breath. He looked down again, returning to the letter, reading it slower this time, like every word was a step toward her. Toward understanding. Toward redemption.

Oscar turned away, pulled out his phone, and stepped into the hallway. As he did, the screen lit up with an incoming call from Lily.

He answered.

“Did you get it?” Lily asked, frantic. “Oscar, please tell me you found the book. I left it. God, I’m so stupid—”

“I found it,” Oscar said softly.

“Good,” she sighed. Then, after a pause. “Wait... did Lando see it?”

“Yeah.”

A beat of silence.

“Did you take it from him?”

Oscar glanced through the glass wall. Lando was still inside, hunched over the book, reading like it was scripture, tears slipping freely now. Something raw sat heavy in his expression, like a man reading his own obituary.

“No.”

“Why not?” Lily’s voice cracked, panic pushing her words faster. “Oscar, why—”

Oscar’s voice was quiet, but firm. “Let him find her already, Lily. He’s suffered enough.”

There was a long pause on the other end. When Lily finally spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper.

“Are you sure he deserves to?”

“No,” Oscar replied, honest. “But maybe that’s not for us to decide anymore.”

That night, Lando returned home in a daze. His body moved, but his thoughts lagged behind. His hands still twitched, remembering the weight of the book, like part of him hadn’t realized it was no longer in his possession. When he closed the front door, he didn’t turn on the lights.

Darkness greeted him gently.

He dropped his keys on the counter, walked straight to the closet, pulled out his suitcase, and began packing. No hesitation. No second-guessing. Just quiet, decisive urgency.

The letter had made it clear.

Forks.

The name repeated in his mind like a beacon, like coordinates leading him home. Rain-soaked trees. Washed-out roads. A place no one would think to search, except the one person who had to.

He picked up the framed photo on his desk—one from their wedding. Candid. Imperfect. She was laughing with her eyes closed, and he was staring at her like the world had finally made sense.

“Wait for me,” he whispered.

The next morning, he met Zak Brown in the executive lounge at McLaren.

“I need a week,” Lando said plainly. “Maybe a week and a half.”

Zak didn’t flinch. He looked at the younger man, noting the tired eyes and tightened jaw.

“You found something?”

Lando nodded.

Zak studied him for a long moment. “Just come back before the next Grand Prix.”

“I will.”

Zak leaned back in his chair. “No guarantees she’ll want to see you.”

“I know,” Lando said, voice soft. “But I have to try.”

Zak stood and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Then go.”

That afternoon, Lando boarded his private jet. The skies over London were a pale steel grey, thick with the promise of another storm. As the plane taxied down the runway, he gazed out the window, his mind thousands of miles away—in fog-wrapped forests, in a quiet house, in the pages of a letter that changed everything.

She had loved him. He knew that now.

And he would find her.

Even if she no longer wanted to be found.

To be continued...🧡

✒️ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱɪʟᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴛᴏᴏᴋ ʜᴇʀ - ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 9: ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴏᴡɴ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʀᴀɪɴ ꜰᴏʀɢᴏᴛ ✒️

📝 Note from the Author: Third post of the day. Third. As in tres. Tatlo. Tiga. Tatlong beses na akong bumalik dito parang may stockholder meeting ako sa fanfic. 💀

Honestly, at this point, I don’t even know if I’m writing or just emotionally waterboarding myself with fictional heartbreaks and unresolved sexual tension. 😭

Let’s talk about it:

Lando reading that letter like it’s the Dead Sea Scrolls he wasn’t meant to uncover? ICONIC.

Oscar standing there like a morally conflicted bodyguard for a book? I smell Best Supporting Actor.

Lily? Girlie said, “Don’t tell him,” but left her book like she wanted the plot to thicken. Ma’am. The drama. The layers. The accidental intentional chaos.

And Lando booking a private jet to Forks? Edward Cullen is shaking. Bella who? It’s giving “I’m in my sad boi era but I’ve got money.”

Anyway, if I disappear for a while after this, just know it’s because I’ve emotionally imploded. Or I’m writing the next chapter. Depends on caffeine availability.

'Til next time,

When Allura was sacrificing herself:

Keith: Allura when you accepted me, it helped me to accept myself. Thank you.

Allura: There is greatness in your heart. And in your actions.

They hug each other tightly as Keith whispers in her ear tenderly.

Keith: I love you. I loved you for a very long but it's true.

Allura cried harder in his tight, warm embrace and whispered back.

Allura: I know. I always have known.

By Gamal Moustafa

“And even if we never talk again, please remember that I’m forever changed by who you are and what you meant to me.”

Some goodbyes carry the sound of forever, Photo by Ideogram AI .

Introduction

In a quiet seaport city where the air smells of salt and dreams, two souls meet by chance and change each other’s lives forever. This is a story of love that grew with the waves, of promises whispered under sunsets, and of goodbyes that linger longer than words. It’s a love story not broken by distance, but deepened by memory — a reminder that some people never really leave us; they simply live within us, wherever we go.

The City by the Sea

The seaport was a world of its own — boats rocking gently, fishermen shouting across the docks, the sun dipping into the water like a golden coin at the end of each day.

Adam had lived there all his life. He worked at a small café near the pier, playing guitar in the evenings for visitors who came to taste the calmness of the sea. He never thought of leaving. The city was part of him — its rhythm, its people, its music.

Then one day, she appeared.

Lina was not from there. She came with her notebook and her restless heart, looking for quiet inspiration for her writing. Her first day at the café, she sat near the window, ordered mint tea, and watched Adam play.

Their eyes met — not as strangers, but as if destiny had simply been waiting for them to notice each other.

A Song, a Smile, a Beginning

“Do you know ‘Sailor’s Heart’?” she asked that first evening.

Adam smiled. “Only if you promise to sing with me.”

She laughed — a sound that mixed perfectly with the waves outside. That night, they sang together softly, and the café seemed to hold its breath. From then on, Lina came every evening. They talked until the stars filled the sky — about books, about music, about how strange and beautiful it is to find someone who understands your silence.

Sometimes, they said nothing at all. They’d walk by the harbor, hand in hand, letting the sea speak for them.

Adam showed her the secret spots only locals knew — the old lighthouse, the fisherman’s market at dawn, the cliffs where the wind tasted like salt and hope. She wrote poems about him in her notebook. He wrote songs about her he never played for anyone else.

The Letter from the Capital

It came on a gray morning — a letter with the city’s emblem, offering Lina a writing position in the capital.

She stared at it for a long time. It was everything she had worked for, everything she had dreamed of. But why did it suddenly feel so heavy?

That evening, she found Adam waiting at their spot by the pier. The waves were calm, as if listening. “I got accepted,” she said quietly.

He didn’t speak for a while. He just looked at her — memorizing her face, her hair, the way her fingers fidgeted with the letter. “When will you go?” “In two days.”

The silence that followed said more than words ever could.

The Last Night

Their final night together was soft and slow. The sky turned lavender as the sun melted into the sea. They walked the old path along the dock — the same path they had taken so many times before.

They spoke about everything except goodbye. Every laugh was a memory being folded away carefully. Every touch was a promise they knew might never be kept.

Finally, as the wind grew colder, Lina stopped. Her voice trembled as she whispered: “Adam… even if we never talk again, please remember that I’m forever changed by who you are and what you meant to me.”

He wanted to tell her not to go, to ask her to stay — but love sometimes means letting someone chase their dream, even if it takes them away from you. So he said only, “Go and write your story, Lina. And don’t forget where your heart learned to listen.”

Bay See You

The morning of her departure came quietly. The bus waited near the harbor, steam rising like sighs into the air.

Adam stood by the café door, guitar in hand. She turned one last time, her hair blowing in the sea breeze, her eyes filled with everything she couldn’t say.

“Bay see you,” she said softly, her voice carrying over the sound of waves — part goodbye, part promise.

Then she stepped onto the bus, leaving behind the scent of salt, the sound of gulls, and the heart of a man who would never forget her.

Adam walked back to the café, sat by the window, and began to play the song they had sung together. The waves kept their rhythm, and in every note, she was there — forever part of the music, forever part of the sea.

Final Note

Love doesn’t always need forever to be real. Sometimes, a few shared seasons, a few sunsets, and one unforgettable goodbye can change two lives more than years ever could. And somewhere between the sea and the city, between “hello” and “bay see you,” they both learned that real love never ends — it simply lives on in memory.

Author’s Note — From the Writer’s Heart

Sometimes, love doesn’t ask to stay forever. It simply visits, changes us quietly, and leaves a part of itself behind — in a song, a scent, a memory that never fades. “Bay See You” was born from that kind of love — the kind that teaches us how deep the human heart can feel, even in silence.

If this story touched you, may it remind you of someone who once made your world softer, warmer, and more alive. And if you’ve ever said goodbye with love still in your heart — this story is yours too.

— Gamal Moustafa

“Some stories don’t end — they just echo softly in the heart.”

#https://gamalmoustafa2857.medium.com/bay-see-you-4314afd9e0c2

Today, I received some news from my good friend that she passed her visa interview to work in Qatar! I’m genuinely excited and happy for her; she truly deserves this opportunity. Still, it feels a little too soon that she’s flying out in just a week, and honestly, I’m not ready to say goodbye (I’m crying inside). 🥹😭

She’s one of the kindest souls I know, the person I always turn to when I need advice or comfort. Thinking about her leaving makes me realize how much her presence has meant to me. I’ll miss our long talks and her gentle reminders that everything will be okay. 💕

Still, I’m proud of her. She’s chasing her dreams, and it reminds me that I should do the same. I hope one day, I’ll get the chance to work overseas too to explore, to grow, to build something of my own. But for now, I have to stay grounded. I have 2.5 more years until I finish my bachelor’s degree.

So maybe it’s time, time to start my candle business, to create something that supports me, that invests in my dreams, and helps me save for what’s next.

Even though this goodbye hurts, I’m trying to see it as a reminder that every ending lights the path to a new beginning.

Goodbyes are not the end. They are the quiet push we need to grow wings. Sometimes, watching others fly reminds you that you’re meant to take off too.