🧡 ᴜɴᴘʟᴀɴɴᴇᴅ — ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 12: ᴄʀᴀᴄᴋꜱ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀᴍᴏᴜꜰʟᴀɢᴇ 🧡
ꜰ1 x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ʟᴀɴᴅᴏ ɴᴏʀʀɪꜱ ᴀᴜ | ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ + ᴅʀᴀᴍᴀ
⚠️ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ:
ᴘʀᴇɢɴᴀɴᴄʏ-ʀᴇʟᴀᴛᴇᴅ ꜰᴀᴛɪɢᴜᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴀᴜꜱᴇᴀ
ꜱᴇᴄʀᴇᴄʏ, ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ᴛᴇɴꜱɪᴏɴ
ʟɪɢʜᴛ ᴅɪꜱᴄᴜꜱꜱɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱʜɪᴘ ᴜɴᴄᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴᴛʏ
ɪᴍᴘʟɪᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴘᴀꜱᴛ ᴄᴏɴꜰʟɪᴄᴛ
ꜱᴜʙᴛʟᴇ ᴍᴇᴅɪᴀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡᴏʀᴋᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ ꜱᴜʀᴠᴇɪʟʟᴀɴᴄᴇ
ꜱᴛʀᴇꜱꜱ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴘᴜʙʟɪᴄ ꜱᴄʀᴜᴛɪɴʏ
ᴄᴏ-ᴘᴀʀᴇɴᴛɪɴɢ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴜɴɪᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ɪɴ ꜰʀᴀɢɪʟᴇ ᴇᴀʀʟʏ ꜱᴛᴀɢᴇꜱ
ʙʀɪᴇꜰ ʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴇᴄᴇᴘᴛɪᴏɴ/ᴍɪꜱᴜɴᴅᴇʀꜱᴛᴀɴᴅɪɴɢ
ʀɪꜱɪɴɢ ꜱᴜꜱᴘɪᴄɪᴏɴ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀꜱ (ᴏꜱᴄᴀʀ, ᴄᴀʀʟᴀ, ᴘʀ)
The following week arrived like a balancing act, tightrope-thin, with every move weighted by caution.
(Y/n) had slipped back into her daily routine, keeping her shifts at the boutique steady and her head low. She rotated between loose cardigans and breezy blouses, careful to avoid anything that hugged too close. It wasn’t about hiding from Lando anymore, it was about staying ahead of everyone else’s eyes.
Especially Carla’s.
Though Carla no longer asked questions, she had taken to watching her with a kind of tender curiosity, always offering ginger candy or reminding her to take breaks. She hadn’t outright said anything, but it was clear Amara had filled her in. And while Carla didn’t gossip, her knowing glances grew harder to ignore.
Amara, on the other hand, was having a field day.
“So he picks you up in a plain SUV like some kind of undercover agent,” she whispered while steaming a rack of silk skirts. “Texting you under the alias ‘L.N.’ What’s next? Secret handshakes? Invisible ink?”
(Y/n) rolled her eyes. “We’re keeping things private.”
“Sweetheart,” Amara said, lowering the steamer. “Private and sneaky are neighbors, not twins. You sure you’re not catching feelings?”
“I’m catching nausea, Amara. That’s it.”
But her heart beat just a little faster when her phone vibrated with a simple message:
Lando: You good? Need anything today?
She glanced down and smiled faintly.
Elsewhere, the McLaren garage was its usual hive of calibration, radio checks, and tire whispers.
Oscar Piastri leaned against the wall of the engineering tent, watching Lando fiddle with his glove strap for the third time in a row. There was something off, something not mechanical.
“You’ve been... different,” Oscar said casually.
Lando blinked. “What?”
“Quieter. Distracted. And don’t tell me it’s the new front wing.”
Lando gave a dry laugh. “I’m just tired. Long week.”
Oscar didn’t press, but filed it away. Over the next few days, he kept noticing small things—Lando ducking out earlier than usual. Checking his phone more often. Smiling at texts and immediately composing his expression like he hadn’t.
Then there was the photo.
Blurry, yes. But Oscar had sharp eyes. And while the tabloids hadn’t caught on fully, he had.
“That woman outside the McLaren truck last weekend…” he said in the hospitality lounge two days later. “The one PR said was just from a design partner?”
Lando didn’t look up from his protein bar.
Oscar continued, “You knew her. Don’t deny it. I saw your face.”
Lando sighed. “It’s complicated.”
“Isn’t it always?”
He didn’t press further, but there was something in his tone—curious but not judgmental—that made Lando pause.
“I’m handling it,” Lando said finally.
Oscar nodded. “Just make sure whatever you’re handling doesn’t blow up mid-qualifying.”
Later that night, Oscar sat cross-legged on the bed in his apartment, laptop closed, while Lily peeled off her makeup in the bathroom. She returned in one of his oversized t-shirts, towel-drying her hair.
“You’re doing that look again,” she said, climbing into bed beside him.
“What look?”
“The one that means your brain’s still racing even though you're pretending it’s not.”
Oscar leaned back on his elbows. “It’s Lando.”
Lily arched a brow. “Okay, go on.”
He hesitated. “He’s been off lately. Disappearing between sessions. Always on his phone. I saw him in the paddock last week with someone—I think I recognize her from a blurry fan photo. Then there was this PR thing where they called her a ‘stylist partner,’ but the way he looked at her… it wasn’t PR.”
Lily snorted. “You’re giving investigative journalist.”
“I’m serious. It’s not just the vibe. It’s like he’s orbiting something personal, and it’s pulling at him whether he wants it to or not.”
“Sounds messy.”
“It feels messy. But it also feels… real? I don’t know. I just have this feeling something big is happening and he’s trying hard to keep it from exploding.”
Lily rolled onto her side. “Maybe he’s just finally grown up a little.”
“Or maybe,” Oscar said, “he’s in way over his head.”
Back at the boutique, (Y/n) stepped outside for air, hand pressed lightly to her lower stomach as the late spring sun heated the pavement. She’d just finished organizing a shipment when she got a message:
Lando: You free tonight? Just to talk. Nothing intense. Promise.
She smiled, thumb hovering over the screen before replying:
Y/n: After 7. Amara will cover. No cameras, right?
Lando: Just me.
That night, they sat on a quiet bench overlooking the marina, plastic cups of fruit smoothie in hand, the harbor lights flickering like diamonds on water.
They talked about everything and nothing, about music, about how hard it was to sleep some nights, about her latest craving for salted popcorn dipped in Nutella. About his upcoming testing weekend and the pressure that didn’t let up.
“You ever feel like… you’re pretending not to be split down the middle?” (Y/n) asked softly, gaze fixed on the water.
“All the time,” Lando murmured.
Their hands didn’t touch. But there was something tethering them anyway. Invisible. Growing stronger.
But behind the scenes, threads were unraveling.
Oscar had already mentioned it once to his trainer in passing. The PR team had started monitoring Twitter keywords more aggressively. And Carla, after finding Lando waiting in a parked SUV across the street from the boutique one afternoon, had raised an eyebrow so sharp it could cut glass.
(Y/n) was careful. Lando was cautious.
But Monaco was small. And secrets, no matter how tightly folded, always had edges.
To be continued... 🧡
🧡 ᴜɴᴘʟᴀɴɴᴇᴅ — ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 13: ꜱᴍᴏᴋᴇ, ᴍɪʀʀᴏʀꜱ, ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴏꜰᴛ ʟᴀɴᴅɪɴɢꜱ 🧡
📝 Note from the Author: And this makes it the third post of the day 😭 I swear I said I’d pace myself but here we are again… dropping more chaos, feelings, and cliffhangers like confetti 🎉
As always, don’t forget to like, comment, reblog, and if you’re enjoying the ride, follow for more, because we’re just getting started 👀
With love, me 🧡
