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Oscar extended the hotel room until Sunday without drama.

Lando rescheduled their flight back to London to Sunday morning with equal efficiency. No questions asked. No hesitation. It felt natural now—like the trip had quietly decided it wasn’t done with them yet.

Friday wrapped cleanly. The last meeting went well. Better than well. Another agreement signed. Another handshake that meant something. Lando walked out of the room practically glowing, tablet hugged to his chest like a trophy.

“We did it,” he said, beaming as the car pulled away. “Again.”

Oscar glanced at him, smiling. “We did.”

Back at the hotel, the mood stayed light—jackets tossed aside, shoes kicked off, the kind of quiet satisfaction that only came after things went right.

Oscar checked his watch once. “Dinner’s at Pangium,” he said casually.

Lando froze. “…At where?”

“Pangium,” Oscar repeated. “It’s in the Singapore Botanic Gardens.”

There was a beat. Then— “Oh no,” Lando whispered.

Oscar turned. “What.”

“That’s Michelin,” Lando said faintly. “That’s Michelin-star.”

“Yes.”

“That’s like—” Lando gestured wildly, panic rising. “Multiple forks. Silent judgment. People who know how to place napkins.”

Oscar raised an eyebrow. “You know how to place a napkin.”

“I think I do,” Lando said. “But what if I don’t? What if I drink water wrong? What if I say ‘yum’ out loud?”

Oscar smiled, far too calm. “Please don’t say ‘yum’.”

Lando paced the room now. “What’s the dress code. What’s the table manner. Do I wait for everyone to eat. Do I start when your mum starts. What if I spill something. What if I spill everything.”

Oscar watched him for a moment, then reached out and caught his wrist.

“Lan,” he said gently. Lando stopped.

“You’ve already survived investors in three countries,” Oscar continued. “You managed schedules across time zones. You handled my family—over the phone—during an underwear crisis.”

Lando winced. “Don’t.”

Oscar smiled. “You’ll be fine.”

Lando swallowed, nodding despite himself. “Okay. Okay. I can do this.”

He paused. “…But if I accidentally use the wrong spoon, you’re legally obligated to distract everyone.”

Oscar squeezed his hand. “Deal.”

Lando exhaled slowly, nerves still buzzing but excitement sneaking in around the edges.

A Michelin-starred restaurant. In a botanical garden. With Oscar’s family. He looked up at Oscar, trying for bravery. “I’m going to make you proud.”

Oscar’s expression softened instantly. “You already do.”

Lando blinked. Then panicked again. “Oh god. I need to change.”

Singapore was still hot. Even at night, the air clung stubbornly, like it hadn’t gotten the memo that the sun was gone. Lando stared at his shorts on the bed for a long moment, then sighed heavily.

“No,” he muttered. “Not tonight.”

Michelin-starred dinner won. He changed into a blue striped shirt instead—soft fabric, sleeves pushed just enough to look intentional, not try-hard. He checked himself in the mirror twice. Then a third time, just to be sure.

Oscar was already ready. Black trousers. Shirt crisp. Jacket abandoned because humidity was a losing battle—but his sleeves were rolled neatly to his forearms, watch visible, understated and expensive in a way that made Lando briefly forget how to breathe.

“Oh,” Lando said faintly. “You did that on purpose.”

Oscar glanced up. “Did what.”

“The sleeves,” Lando accused. “The watch. The whole—this.”

Oscar smiled, unapologetic. They left the hotel together, the cool lobby giving way to warm night air as the car pulled up. Lando slid into the backseat and immediately opened his front camera.

He tilted his head. Adjusted the angle. Squinted.

Oscar watched him with open amusement. “Your face didn’t change at all.”

Lando gasped. “What do you mean didn’t change.”

“I mean,” Oscar said calmly, “it looks the same as it did five minutes ago.”

Lando zoomed in on his own face. “So it’s useless,” he declared dramatically. “I tried to cover my panda eyes with concealer.”

Oscar leaned back, unbothered. “You don’t have panda eyes.”

“I absolutely do,” Lando said. “They’re subtle but powerful.”

Oscar’s mouth curved. “You look good.”

Lando paused, phone lowering slightly. “That’s not helpful right now.”

“It’s true.” The car moved through the city, lights flickering past the windows, greenery blurring into shadow.

Lando glanced out, then back at Oscar—rolled sleeves, calm posture, completely unruffled. “Okay,” Lando said quietly, steeling himself.

“Michelin dinner. Your mum. Your sisters. No shorts. No ‘yum’.”

Oscar nodded approvingly. “Excellent start.” Lando took a deep breath and slipped his phone away. “Alright,” he said. “Let’s do this.”

Oscar reached over, squeezing his hand once—steady, grounding. Dinner awaited. And Lando Norris was, somehow, ready.

The moment the car stopped, Lando considered running.

Just—opening the door, saying sorry, and disappearing into the warm Singapore night. Who chose a Michelin-starred restaurant in a botanical garden for a family dinner? Who did this?

His neck was already damp with sweat. “This is a mistake,” Lando muttered under his breath as they stepped out. “I should’ve worn darker blue. You can see panic sweat on this.”

Oscar closed the door behind them calmly, then placed a steady hand at the small of Lando’s back.  “You’re fine,” Oscar said quietly. “Breathe.” Lando tried.

Inside, Pangium was soft and glowing—low lights, polished wood, greenery framing the windows like the garden itself had leaned in to watch. It smelled like citrus and spice and money.

Too much money. A staff member approached immediately, smiling. “Good evening. Mr. Piastri?”

“Yes,” Oscar replied smoothly.

“Your table is ready.” Lando’s feet felt heavy as they followed, each step sounding too loud in his head. They rounded a corner.

Near the window, and there they were. Nicole Piastri sat first, elegant and radiant, posture relaxed like she belonged anywhere she chose to sit. Beside her—three women.

All wearing shimmering gowns. Nothing loud. Nothing obvious. Just fabric that caught the light in subtle, expensive ways. Hair perfect but effortless. Jewelry minimal and devastating.

They looked like they stepped out of a magazine titled Successful, Unbothered, and Related to Oscar Piastri.

Lando’s soul briefly left his body. “Oh,” he whispered. “There’s… three.”

Oscar leaned in just enough to murmur, “You knew that.”

“Yes,” Lando said faintly. “But knowing and seeing are different.”

Nicole looked up first—and smiled. “Oscar,” she said warmly.

The sisters followed, expressions curious, assessing, friendly in that terrifyingly polished way. Oscar squeezed Lando’s back once. “Mum. This is Lando.”

Lando straightened immediately, summoning every ounce of professionalism he owned. “Good evening, Mrs. Piastri,” he said, voice miraculously steady. “It’s lovely to finally meet you in person.”

Nicole’s smile widened. “Oh, please,” she said. “Call me Nicole.”

She stood, pulling Lando into a gentle hug before he could react. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

Lando blinked. Hugged back automatically. “All good things, I hope.”

“Oh, very,” Nicole replied. One of the sisters laughed softly. Another nodded approvingly.

“Relax,” the third said kindly. “We don’t bite.”

Lando smiled, still sweating, but something in his chest loosened just a little. Oscar watched it all with quiet satisfaction, hand never leaving Lando’s back. Okay. Maybe he wouldn’t run. At least—not yet.

The appetizers arrived like a peace offering. Small, beautiful, delicate things arranged with terrifying precision.

By the time the appetizers were cleared, Lando had completely forgotten he was nervous.

Which was always dangerous. “So,” he said suddenly, bright and curious, leaning forward a little, “how long are you guys in Singapore?”

Nicole glanced at her daughters. “Until Sunday.”

Lando’s eyes lit up like someone had just handed him a loaded idea. “Oh my god. Then we have to play tourist tomorrow.”

Oscar made a quiet, warning noise. “Lan—”

“I found this place on TikTok,” Lando continued, already reaching for his phone. “It’s like—super pretty, lots of lights, very aesthetic, and there’s this café nearby that does really cute drinks—”

One sister giggled immediately. “Oh, I’ve seen that!”

“Yes!” Lando pointed at her triumphantly. “That one!”

Another sister leaned in. “Is that the place with the glass bridge?”

“YES,” Lando said, thrilled. “And the giant flowers—”

Oscar dropped his head back slightly. “It’s going to be hot.”

“Oh come on,” Lando said, waving him off. “We survived Dubai.”

“That was against my will.” Nicole smiled serenely. “I think it sounds lovely.”

Oscar stared at her. “You too?”

She shrugged. “I raised you. I deserve entertainment.”

The sisters were already nodding, murmuring excitedly, phones out, comparing notes.

“We can go in the morning,” one suggested.

“Or just before sunset,” another added.

“That’s better for photos.”

Lando beamed, absolutely unstoppable. “See? Perfect planning.” Oscar looked around the table—four women and one overly enthusiastic boyfriend—all aligned against him.

“This is a conspiracy,” he muttered. Lando leaned over and patted his arm sweetly. “You’ll survive.”

Oscar sighed deeply. “It’s going to be thirty-two degrees.”

“And you’ll still look good,” Lando replied instantly. One of the sisters laughed. “He’s not wrong.”

Oscar gave up, reaching for his water. “I’m being peer-pressured by my own family.”

Lando smiled at him, unapologetic. “Welcome to the experience.”

And just like that, tomorrow’s plan was set—whether Oscar liked it or not.

They said their goodbyes in the lobby. The night air drifted in every time the doors slid open, carrying the soft scent of greenery and rain-warm pavement. Cars waited outside in a neat line, engines idling, drivers patient.

They’d decided to take separate cars. Nicole turned to Lando first. “Oh—come here,” she said, already opening her arms.

Lando stepped in without hesitation and was pulled into a proper hug—the kind that lingered just a second longer than polite, warm and genuine. He hugged her back carefully at first, then fully.

“See you tomorrow,” she said kindly, squeezing his shoulder. “Yes,” Lando nodded eagerly, smiling up at her. “Tomorrow. Tourist mode.”

Nicole laughed. “I’m looking forward to it.”

Before he could step back, one of Oscar’s sisters hugged him next—quick and cheerful. Then another. Then the third, softer and familiar already.

“See you, Lando!” “Don’t be late!” “Sleep well!”

Lando laughed, a little overwhelmed but glowing. “I will! I promise.”

They waved as Nicole got into the car, the sisters following, still smiling back through the window. Lando lifted his hand, waving until the car pulled away and disappeared into the night traffic.

He stood there for a moment, hands still half-raised. “…I think they adopted me,” he said quietly.

Oscar slipped an arm around his waist, amused. “That was fast.”

Lando leaned into him, grinning. “I like them.”

Oscar looked down at him, expression soft, certain. “They like you too.”

They turned toward their own car then, the lobby lights dimmer now, the night finally settling.

Tomorrow waited. And somehow, Lando wasn’t nervous about it at all.

Morning came early. Too early.

Lando was awake by seven, already kneeling in front of the open suitcase like it had personally challenged him. Clothes were spread out in careful options—this shirt, no too much; this one, too stiff; that one, wrong vibe.

He finally exhaled when he found it. Linen shirt light and breathable. Neutral enough to survive humidity and judgement. Shorts that looked intentional, not lazy.

“Okay,” he muttered to himself, pulling it on. “Okay. Don’t be nervous. They don’t bite.” He did not believe this.

He turned to Oscar’s side next, laying out clothes with far more confidence. Maroon T-shirt—his favorite. Soft, worn just right. Black shorts so simple and very Oscar.

As always. Lando stepped back, hands on hips, nodding. “Perfect.” Oscar stirred a moment later, blinking sleepily as he sat up. “Why are you awake.”

“We’re tourists,” Lando said immediately. “Tourists wake up early.”

Oscar squinted at him. “You’re pacing.”

“I’m strategizing.” Oscar sighed and swung his legs out of bed. “What’s the plan.”

Lando brightened instantly. “Okay. Breakfast first. Proper local breakfast.”

Oscar paused. “Define proper.”

“Kopitiam,” Lando said confidently—then hesitated. “I think that’s what it’s called.”

Oscar smiled faintly. “It is.”

“There’s this place,” Lando continued, already opening his phone, “Maxwell Food Centre. It’s like—hawker stalls, very local, very authentic.”

Oscar nodded. “That’s good.”

“And,” Lando added, scrolling, “we should eat kaya toast. Soft-boiled eggs, coffee.”

Oscar raised an eyebrow. “You know how to order it?”

“No,” Lando admitted cheerfully. “But I will learn.”

Oscar accepted this fate. “And then,” Lando said, excitement building, “we go to the Gardens by the Bay.”

Oscar blinked. “The indoor one.”

“Yes!” Lando said. “Cold. Air-conditioned. Giant waterfall, plants. We will survive.”

Oscar smiled despite himself. “That’s smart.”

“I know,” Lando said proudly. “I planned this.”

They finished getting ready quickly after that—Oscar pulling on the maroon shirt, Lando fixing his collar in the mirror, nerves still humming but excitement winning out.

As they headed out, Lando took one last breath. “Okay,” he said quietly. “Family breakfast. Tourist day. We can do this.”

Oscar reached for his hand, squeezing once. “You’re going to be great.” Lando smiled—still nervous, still pacing just a little—but ready.

Singapore waited.

They spotted them immediately. Nicole stood near the entrance, already glowing in a breezy summer dress, sunglasses perched neatly on her head like she belonged in every climate. Beside her—Oscar’s three sisters.

All unmistakably Australian.

Thongs on their feet. Proper ones. One oversized tote bag with everything in it. Another already squinting at the heat like it had personally betrayed her. And yes—someone had already said mate to a stranger.

Lando’s eyes widened. “Oh my god,” he whispered to Oscar. “They look like they just landed five minutes ago.”

“They did,” Oscar replied calmly. “This is restrained.”

One sister was fanning herself with a folded brochure. Another was loudly asking, “Why is it hot already?” while still insisting she didn’t need sunscreen. The third had iced coffee in hand and was looking around like she might adopt the place.

Lando straightened instantly, nerves replaced by sheer enthusiasm. “HELLOOOO,” he said brightly, waving with both hands as they approached. “GOOD MORNING!”

Nicole turned, smiling immediately. “Lando!” He stepped forward and greeted everyone with far too much energy for seven in the morning. “I hope you’re hungry because I am ready.”

One of the sisters laughed. “We like him.”

“I already practiced Singaporean words,” Lando announced proudly. “For ordering food.”

Oscar frowned. “You did?”

“Yes,” Lando said confidently. “I watched three videos.”

Nicole looked delighted. “Oh, this will be fun.”

They entered the hawker centre together, the air filled with clatter and voices and steam. The sisters immediately went into full Australian tourist mode.

“Okay but why does everything smell amazing?”

“Do we queue or just—point?”

“Lando, what’s that?” One of them took photos of everything. Another asked a stall owner what everyone else was ordering. The third tried to pronounce something and gave up halfway through.

Lando clapped his hands together. “Okay! Follow me. We’re doing kaya toast, soft-boiled eggs, coffe, very classic.”

Oscar raised an eyebrow. “You sound very confident.”

“I am,” Lando said. “I learned one important phrase.”

Nicole leaned in. “What is it?”

Lando grinned. “Just wait!” Oscar groaned quietly. When it was their turn, Lando leaned toward the Singaporean aunty at the stall, beaming. “Aunty, one kaya toast set, kopi c siew dai can—thank you ah!”

The aunty blinked once, then broke into an amused smile. “Can, can.”

Behind him, one of the sisters whispered, “Oh he’s committed.”

They queued, they pointed, they laughed when Lando nearly cracked an egg wrong and panicked like he’d committed a crime. One sister called him a legend when he fixed it. Another declared the coffee “strong enough to wake the dead.”

Oscar watched it all, arms folded loosely, expression soft. Lando fit in instantly—too much energy, too many questions, completely unbothered by the chaos. By the time they sat down with trays full of food, everyone was smiling.

Lando lifted his kopi triumphantly. “See? Tourist success.”

Nicole looked at Oscar, amused. “He’s perfect.”

Oscar glanced at Lando—mid-bite, eyes bright, already explaining something with his hands—and nodded.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “He is.”

Nicole watched them from across the table, hands wrapped around her coffee, smile lingering in a way she didn’t bother to hide.

She remembered the first time Oscar had said the name. It was during a family dinner back in Australia. They were eating at Nobu when, suddenly, Oscar’s phone lit up on the table.

The screen displayed a photo of someone with messy hair, wearing a slightly oversized Christmas jumper. He was laughing at something just out of frame, eyes crinkled, joy completely unguarded.

Nicole had glanced at the photo, then at her son. “His name’s Lando.” She had paused. Oscar didn’t do casual about people, not really.

He’d been an awkward child—quiet, thoughtful, more comfortable with books and routines than feelings. Boarding school in England hadn’t changed that, not truly. Neither had the degrees, the master’s, the sharp edges of adulthood that made him capable and impressive and still deeply private.

He’d dated, maybe. But nothing that stayed. Nothing he brought home in words, let alone names. So Nicole hadn’t asked too many questions then. She’d just nodded. Stored it away, waited.

Now—sitting in a hawker centre in Singapore, watching her son across a plastic table with mismatched stools—she understood.

Lando was… not what she’d imagined. Energetic, chaotic, right in a way that took up space without asking permission.

He was currently attempting to crack a soft-boiled egg for Oscar, tongue poking out in concentration, narrating the process like it was a competitive sport. “Okay—no—wait—this one is tricky—don’t panic—”

Oscar sighed not annoyed not embarrassed. Just resigned in the way of someone who had long since accepted a certain reality. “That’s not how you do it,” he said mildly.

“I know,” Lando replied, immediately doing it anyway. “But this way feels right.”

Nicole watched Oscar accept the egg—slightly mangled shell, questionable execution—and eat it without comment. She nearly laughed. This was the same boy who used to line up his shoes as a child. Who hated surprises. Who corrected people gently but firmly when things were inefficient.

And here he was—sitting calmly in the middle of noise and movement and Lando. Letting him fuss. Letting him hover. Letting him talk too much and move too fast and care too openly.

Letting himself be loved loudly. Nicole’s chest tightened, just a little. She saw it now—the way Oscar’s eyes followed Lando automatically. The way his shoulders softened when Lando was near. The way he sighed, yes—but never once pulled away.

This wasn’t distraction. This was anchoring. Lando finally succeeded in cracking the egg properly and looked up, triumphant. “See? I fixed it.”

Oscar nodded. “Well done.” The praise was quiet and real. Nicole smiled into her coffee. So this was the boy. Not the polished future she might’ve imagined for her son—but something warmer. 

She watched Lando laugh, watched Oscar accept the chaos without resistance, and thought—fondly, certainly, unmistakably—Ah. That makes sense.

Lando had another idea. This one arrived fully formed, unstoppable, and said with far too much confidence. “We should take public transport.”

Oscar stopped walking. “No.”

“Yes,” Lando said immediately. “Like—properly. Trains, cards. Standing near maps pretending we know what we’re doing.”

Oscar opened his mouth to argue. Lando looked at him. Not dramatic. Not pleading. Just—that look. Bright-eyed. Determined. Borderline threatening in its enthusiasm.

Oscar closed his mouth again. Nicole laughed, delighted, watching the silent exchange like it was live entertainment. “Oh,” she said warmly, “he’s won already.”

One of the sisters grinned. “You’re done, brother.”

Oscar sighed, defeated. “Fine.” Lando beamed. “Great! Okay, follow me.”

“Do you know where you’re going?” Oscar asked calmly.

“Yes,” Lando said, then paused. “…Conceptually.” Nicole chuckled. “Lead the way, Lando.”

He nodded seriously, shoulders squaring like he’d just been promoted. “Everyone stay close.”

They moved toward the station, the morning buzzing around them—locals weaving past effortlessly, signs glowing overhead. Lando walked a little too fast, head turning left and right, absorbing everything at once.

Oscar stayed just behind him. Close enough that when the crowd thickened, his hand came to rest at the small of Lando’s back—light, guiding, instinctive.

“Don’t walk anywhere you can get lost,” Oscar murmured. Lando glanced back, mock-offended. “I will not get lost.”

“You got lost in a hotel corridor yesterday.”

“That was architectural sabotage.” Oscar’s hand stayed where it was anyway.

Nicole watched them from a step behind, smile soft, heart full. Her son—steady, composed—guiding without controlling. And Lando—leading boldly, happily unaware of how naturally he was being looked after.

They reached the platform together, the train rushing in with a familiar hum. Lando bounced on his heels. “Okay. This is fun.”

Oscar leaned closer. “You say that now.” Lando laughed, fearless. “Trust me.”

Oscar did. He always did.

The doors slid open. Cool air rushed out like a blessing. Oscar exhaled audibly the second they stepped inside the Gardens by the Bay, shoulders dropping as if his body had finally forgiven Singapore. “Oh, thank god.”

Lando inhaled dramatically. “Air conditioning. Nature’s apology.” The space opened up around them—lush and unreal, mist curling in the air, greenery stacked impossibly high. Lando stopped dead in his tracks.

“Oh my god,” he whispered. Then louder, “OH MY GOD.”

Oscar blinked. “You just said that twice.” Lando was already pulling out his phone. “This place is insane.”

He moved fast—too fast—circling, crouching, standing on his toes, taking photos from every angle like he was on assignment.

“Okay, stand there,” Lando said, shoving his phone into Oscar’s hands without warning. “Take one of me.”

Oscar frowned at the screen. “You’re backlit.”

“That’s the point!”

Click.

“Okay now another—no, vertical—VERTICAL—why are you holding the phone like that?” Oscar adjusted his grip patiently. “Like this?”

“No,” Lando said, horrified. “You’re holding it like a dad.” Nicole laughed from nearby. “Be nice.” Lando spun around. “Mum—sorry—Nicole! Come here. All of you.”

The sisters gathered instantly, already smiling, already posing without instruction. “Okay,” Lando said, backing up, framing the shot. “You guys together. Oscar—you take it.”

Oscar stared at the phone. “Me again.”

“Yes,” Lando said. “Aesthetically.”

Oscar lifted the phone. “No,” Lando said immediately. “Lower. Tilt. Why are your elbows doing that?”

“They’re elbows.”

“They’re ruining the vibe!”

One sister giggled. “He’s stressed.”

“I’m directing,” Lando insisted. “Okay—everyone lean in—yes—no—closer—Oscar, why are you so far away?”

“I’m taking the photo.”

“Emotionally,” Lando said. “Be present.” Oscar sighed but adjusted, holding the phone steady this time.

Click.

Lando rushed over to inspect it, nodding seriously. “Okay. That’s good.” Oscar raised an eyebrow. “Only good?”

“It’s acceptable,” Lando said generously. “We can do better later.” Oscar handed the phone back and wiped imaginary sweat from his forehead. “I’m never being a photographer again.”

Nicole smiled at them both—at Lando buzzing with excitement, at Oscar enduring it all with quiet fondness.

They moved deeper into the Cloud Forest together, mist swirling around them, laughter echoing softly against glass and stone.

And for once, Oscar didn’t mind being told how to hold the phone. Not when it made Lando smile like that.

They walked slowly, letting the path curve where it wanted to, mist drifting lazily around them like the place was breathing on its own. The air was cool enough that Lando finally stopped fanning himself with his phone, slipping it into his pocket.

Conversation drifted easily—small things, harmless things.

“Oh,” Nicole said suddenly, glancing at Oscar with clear amusement, “did he ever tell you he’s afraid of monkeys?”

Oscar stopped walking. “Mum.”

Lando turned so fast he nearly tripped. “What?”

“It’s not a fear,” Oscar said tightly. “It’s a preference.” Nicole laughed. “He climbed a tree once when he was eight because a monkey stared at him.”

Lando laughed immediately—bright, unguarded—but when he looked back at Oscar, his smile softened, something fond settling in his eyes instead of teasing.

“That’s actually kind of adorable,” he said. Oscar muttered, “Please don’t tell anyone.”

“I will treasure this information responsibly,” Lando promised, already failing.

They kept walking. A little later, Hattie slowed her steps until she was beside Lando, hands clasped behind her back, expression curious in that gentle-but-direct way siblings mastered early.

“So,” she said, casually, “why Oscar?”

Oscar stiffened half a step ahead of them. Lando blinked. “Why Oscar?”

“Yes,” Hattie said. “You could be with anyone.” Lando didn’t answer immediately.

He slowed, just a little, eyes following Oscar’s back as he walked ahead—hands folded neatly, posture calm, already listening to something Nicole was saying.

Then Lando smiled. “Oh,” he said lightly. “That’s easy.”

Oscar glanced back despite himself. Lando gestured vaguely. “He’s steady. Like—when everything is loud or messy or going wrong, he’s just… there. He makes things quieter.”

Oscar’s ears went red. “And,” Lando continued, warming up now, “he lets me be ridiculous without making me feel like I need to shrink. Which is honestly rare.”

Nicole stopped walking. One sister blinked. Another actually gasped.

Lando laughed softly. “Also he’s very kind, even when he pretends he’s not. He listens. He shows up. And he never—never—looks at me like I’m too much.”

Oscar had fully stopped now. His face was unmistakably flushed. “Lan,” he said quietly. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” Lando replied, just as quietly. Then he grinned, because he was still himself. “Plus he’s hot. That helps.”

Nicole stared at Oscar. Then at Lando. Then back at Oscar again. “Well,” she said slowly, “I didn’t raise him to make someone feel like that.”

One sister laughed. Another shook her head in disbelief. Oscar looked down, then back up, visibly collecting himself. “You’re exaggerating,” he said, but there was no heat in it.

Lando bumped his shoulder gently. “I’m really not.” They started walking again, closer now without thinking about it.

And for the first time—truly—the entire family saw it. Not just that Lando loved Oscar. But that Oscar let himself be loved.

Sunday morning arrived too quickly. The hotel room looked like a small souvenir shop had exploded.

Paper bags, magnets, snacks, boxes of things Lando swore were “gifts” but were very clearly for himself. Oscar stood in the middle of it, hands on hips. “This is unreasonable.”

“I thought it would fit,” Lando insisted, shoving another packet of something into the suitcase. “They’re flat.”

“They are not flat,” Oscar replied calmly. The suitcase bulged ominously. Lando attempted to close it.

Failed.

Oscar exhaled slowly. “Next time, we bring two suitcases.” Lando groaned dramatically. “I thought it could fit all.”

“You bought six boxes of pineapple tarts.”

“They were on sale!” Oscar crouched down and tried to pull the zipper closed.

It did not move. Lando climbed onto the suitcase without hesitation, sitting on it like this was a perfectly normal solution. “Okay. Ready.”

Oscar stared at him. “You are not helping.”

“I’m compressing,” Lando said with dignity.

“Push more.”

“I’m trying!”

They struggled for a solid thirty seconds—Oscar pulling, Lando bouncing slightly to redistribute weight—until finally—Zip.

They both froze. Oscar slowly stood up. “We’re never opening that again.”

“If customs does,” Lando said faintly, “just let them.”

They made it to the airport with minutes to spare. Nicole and the sisters came too, insisting they’d “see them off properly.” The terminal was bright and busy, departures board flickering overhead.

Hugs came first. One sister squeezed Lando tight. “Don’t disappear.”

“Never,” Lando said solemnly. Another hugged Oscar longer than she probably meant to. “Text us when you land.”

Nicole hugged Oscar quietly, something soft and proud in her eyes. Then she turned to Lando. “Oh, darling,” she said warmly, pulling him into another hug. “Next time—you come to Australia.”

Lando’s eyes lit up instantly. “Yes!”

Oscar blinked. “We just—”

“If HR approves my leave!” Lando added quickly, nodding seriously. Nicole laughed. “I’m sure we can negotiate.”

Oscar shook his head, amused and defeated all at once. Final hugs. Final waves. They stepped toward security together, Lando glancing back one last time, hand raised high.

Nicole waved until they disappeared from sight. On the other side of the glass, Oscar slipped his hand into Lando’s. “Ready to go home?” he asked.

Lando squeezed back, smiling. “Yeah,” he said. “But we’re bringing two suitcases next time.” Oscar sighed. He already knew that meant yes.

They boarded just before final call. Lando still had energy. Oscar did not understand how.

They settled into their seats—carry-ons tucked away, seatbelts clicked, the familiar hum of the cabin settling around them. Outside the window, Singapore blurred into morning light.

Oscar sat back. And—for the first time this entire trip—did not reach for his laptop. Lando noticed immediately. “…Are you sick?” he asked, suspicious.

“No,” Oscar replied calmly.

“You’re not opening it.”

“I’m aware.” Lando blinked. “You always open it.” Oscar shrugged slightly, turning toward him instead. “I don’t feel like it.”

Lando stared for a second. Then grinned. “Wow.”

“What.”

“You’re evolving.” Oscar exhaled quietly through his nose. “Don’t ruin it.”

The plane began to taxi. Lando kept talking—about the breakfast, about the Cloud Forest, about how Nicole absolutely won the aesthetic photos battle, about how one of Oscar’s sisters nearly bought five plants she couldn’t legally transport.

“And your mum,” Lando added softly, “she’s really cool.”

Oscar hummed. “She likes you.”

“I know,” Lando said, trying and failing to hide how pleased he was. “She hugged me twice.”

Oscar smiled faintly. Lando kept going—energy still buzzing but softer now, less chaotic, more thoughtful.

He leaned back into his seat, hands moving when he talked, eyes bright. Oscar just listened. Really listened.

Not multitasking. Not half-scanning emails. Not mentally calculating numbers. Just there. At some point Lando paused mid-sentence and squinted at him. “You’re being very quiet.”

“I’m listening,” Oscar said.

“You always listen.”

“I mean fully.” Lando’s expression shifted slightly—less playful, more aware. “Oh,” he said quietly. The plane lifted.

Singapore shrank beneath them. Lando kept talking, but slower now, his words blending into the steady drone of the engines.

Eventually, his voice softened, sentences stretching thinner. “…and next time we go Australia we definitely need two suitcases and maybe I’ll practice saying g’day properly and—”

His head tipped gently toward Oscar’s shoulder. Oscar shifted slightly to make it easier for him. Within minutes, Lando was asleep. Battery finally low.

Oscar looked down at him—hair messy, mouth slightly open, completely unguarded. He didn’t reach for his laptop. He just stayed there. And let the flight carry them home.

They landed in London just as the sky was turning grey-blue.

Sean was already waiting outside arrivals, hands in his coat pockets, expression calm as ever. He took one look at the suitcase and raised an eyebrow. “Souvenirs,” Lando said defensively.

Sean nodded once. “Of course.”

He lifted the suitcase easily—too easily—and led them toward the car. The drive back felt quieter than the trip out.

Lando leaned into the seat, half-awake again, while Oscar stared out the window at the city sliding past.

First stop wasn’t the penthouse. It was Oliver. The pet hotel lobby smelled faintly of lavender and disinfectant. Lando practically ran inside. “Oliver!” he called before the staff even finished greeting them.

There was a small orange blur from the back room. And then— Chaos. Oliver launched himself forward the moment he was set down, weaving aggressively around their legs like he’d been personally betrayed by their absence.

“Oh my god,” Lando said, scooping him up instantly. “You survived.”

Oscar exhaled slowly, the kind that came from somewhere deep in his chest, and ran a steady hand down Oliver’s back as the cat wound around his legs like he’d been personally abandoned for years.

“He’s dramatic,” Oscar murmured.

“He missed us,” Lando insisted, already crouching down as Oliver wriggled free and bolted toward the hallway like he had inspections to conduct.

Back inside the penthouse, the lights felt almost too bright after the softer glow of travel. Floor-to-ceiling windows reflected the city skyline in sharp lines of gold and white. Everything was clean, minimal. Exactly as they’d left it.

Familiar.

Oliver, however, had no intention of easing back into domestic calm. He shot across the living room at full speed—sofa to hallway, hallway to kitchen, tail high, paws skidding slightly against polished floors. A small, furious reclaiming of territory.

“He’s happy,” Lando said, laughing as Oliver ricocheted off the corner of the couch and disappeared again. Oscar usually, after trips, had a routine. Suitcase inside. Shoes off. Straight to the bedroom.

Door closed. Lights dimmed and silence. Decompression, but tonight?

Tonight he stayed where he was, standing in the center of the living room with his jacket still on, watching Oliver sprint in erratic circles while Lando dropped fully to the floor without hesitation.

Flat on the carpet. “Come here, you little menace,” Lando coaxed.

Oliver did—launching himself halfway up Lando’s shirt with claws that suggested enthusiasm more than coordination.

“Did you eat?” Lando asked seriously, holding the cat like they were conducting a formal debrief. “Did you behave? Did you miss me?”

Oliver responded by climbing higher. Oscar shook his head, fondness softening the edge of his exhaustion.

Then—The suitcase. Lando’s expression shifted as he dragged it ceremoniously into the center of the room.

The overstuffed, questionably zipped, suspiciously heavy suitcase. “Okay,” Lando said cautiously, sitting back on his heels. “Moment of truth.”

Oscar folded his arms. “This was your doing.”

“You encouraged it.”

“I advised moderation.”

“You pointed at snacks.” Oscar didn’t dignify that with a response. Lando gripped the zipper and pulled. Slowly and carefully.

Nothing happened. He visibly relaxed.

“See?” he said, triumphant too early. “Structural integrity—” The zipper gave way with a small, traitorous sound.

Than exploded open like it had been waiting for this exact second. Boxes slid out in every direction. Souvenir bags tipped over. A cascade of snacks tumbled dramatically across the pristine floor.

A plastic container of pineapple tarts hit the ground, bounced once, and rolled with cinematic flair straight under the coffee table.

Oliver’s head snapped toward it. “NO—” both of them shouted at once. Lando lunged left. Oscar moved right.

Oliver darted forward anyway. Oscar intercepted the tart box just before Oliver’s paws could commit a crime.

Lando scrambled to gather fallen packets of chips and something labeled in bright, cheerful colors he absolutely could not read.

“This,” Oscar said flatly, holding up a rogue snack packet, “is chaos.”

“You said it was zipped,” Lando accused, half buried under a tote bag.

“It was zipped.”

“Emotionally it was not secure.” Oliver knocked over a small gift bag in his enthusiasm. A Merlion magnet skidded across the floor like a tiny metallic casualty.

Oscar stepped back just in time to avoid stepping on it. They both froze. Surveyed the scene.

Open suitcase, snacks everywhere. Souvenirs scattered across expensive flooring. Lando kneeling in the middle of it like he’d orchestrated a festive disaster.

Oliver zoomed past again, tail puffed with satisfaction. For a split second, there was silence.

Then Lando started laughing. Not polite laughter. Not controlled.

The kind that folded him forward, hands braced on the floor, breath catching in his throat. 

Oscar tried to hold it in. He lasted three seconds. Then he laughed too. It echoed against glass and marble and high ceilings, filling the penthouse in a way silence never had. 

Oliver sprinted through the middle of them again, thrilled by the chaos he’d helped create.

Oscar looked around—at the open suitcase spilling fragments of Singapore across their living room, at Lando still on the floor surrounded by snacks and magnets and crumpled receipts, at the city lights reflecting back at them from the windows—And he didn’t feel the usual pull toward the bedroom. Didn’t feel the need to close a door, to dim the lights and reclaim quiet.

Not tonight. Tonight felt loud, so full and alive.

Lando is back at his own floor, sat at his desk and exhaled once.

Back to it. He opened his inbox with practiced focus, scanning subject lines quickly. Prioritizing, sorting, flagging. His fingers moved fast across the keyboard—forwarding some emails to Oscar with short notes attached.

Urgent but manageable. Can wait until Thursday. This one needs your input.

He opened the shared calendar next. This week’s schedule needed tightening. Next month’s board review had to shift slightly. He adjusted blocks, added buffers, color-coded travel prep days. 

Grounded. The lift dinged. Lando barely looked up at first. Then— “Lando!” He glanced toward the sound. Lisa stood there with two members of her team—faces serious, posture tight. General Affairs.

That was never casual. Lando’s stomach dropped instantly. He stood up without thinking. “Hey, Lisa,” he said evenly. “What’s up?”

She didn’t smile. “We have a situation.” His heartbeat spiked. Professional mode snapped into place. “Okay,” he said calmly, already stepping around his desk. “Mr. Piastri has thirty minutes free before his meeting with Finance.”

He checked his watch automatically. “Let’s come inside.” He opened the glass door to Oscar’s office and gestured them in, posture steady even if his pulse wasn’t.

Oscar looked up from his desk. “Problem?” he asked quietly. Lando met his eyes. “Yes.” And just like that— Holiday mode was officially over.

Oscar didn’t stand when they entered. He kept typing for a few seconds longer than necessary, then muttered under his breath— “Oh. I don’t like this already.”

Lisa offered a tight, professional smile. “Morning, boss.” Not casual, not relaxed. The kind of smile that came with paperwork and damage control.

They all moved to the couch area. Oscar closed his laptop calmly and joined them, posture straight, expression controlled. Lando slipped out briefly to grab his tablet and notebook—instinct, always prepared—then returned.

By then, Oscar was seated opposite Lisa and her team, hands loosely clasped. “Okay,” Lisa began, tone serious. “We’ve got a situation.”

Lando’s heart jumped. “What kind of situation? Oh my god—” Oscar didn’t react to that. He just listened.

“It’s internal,” Lisa continued. “James from IT.” Oscar’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Yes,” she added carefully. “The married one.” Lando blinked. “…What about him?”

Lisa inhaled. “He’s been having an affair. With one of the interns. The new batch.” Silence.

Lando actually gasped this time. “What kind of—” He stopped himself, pressing his lips together. Oscar remained still. Face neutral eyes sharp.

“It’s already circulating internally,” Lisa said. “We intercepted it before it escalated further, but it’s spreading.” Oscar leaned back slightly. “And?”

“Our HR and GA teams drafted updated regulations,” Lisa replied, sliding a document across the table.

“Conflict of interest rules. Disclosure requirements. Reporting structure boundaries. Explicit prohibition of relationships involving interns.”

Oscar picked up the draft without comment. Lando leaned slightly closer, eyes scanning the bolded headers.

Mandatory disclosure within five working days.

No direct supervisory romantic relationships.

Intern–employee relationships strictly prohibited.

Failure to disclose subject to disciplinary action.

Oscar read everything. Not quickly. Thoroughly. The room stayed quiet while pages turned. Lando watched him from the side, already sensing the shift—this was no longer gossip, no longer shock. This was policy.

Finally, Oscar closed the document and set it neatly on the table. “I’ll review this properly,” he said evenly. “Line by line.”

Lisa nodded. “I don’t want this rushed,” Oscar continued. “If we’re updating regulations, they need to be airtight. Legally and structurally.”

“Of course,” Lisa replied. “We’ll schedule another meeting,” Oscar added. “End of week. Bring all HR people as well.”

Lando made a note immediately. Lisa exhaled slightly—relief, but still tension. “Understood.” Oscar met her gaze steadily. “In the meantime, contain it internally. No statements yet. No reactionary emails.”

“Yes.” Lisa and her team stood to leave. When the door closed behind them, the room felt quieter—but heavier. Lando looked at Oscar carefully. “That’s… messy.”

Oscar picked up the draft again, flipping to the first page. “It is,” he said calmly.

Then, after a beat— “And we’re not making it worse by handling it badly.” Lando nodded. CEO mode was fully engaged.

The door clicked shut behind Lisa. The kind that lingered just a second too long. Lando stood, walked to the glass wall panel, and pressed the privacy button. The blinds slid down smoothly with a soft mechanical hum.

Oscar glanced up. “That’s dramatic.”

Lando turned slowly. “This is it.” Oscar blinked. “What is.”

“This,” Lando gestured wildly toward the closed door. “This is the beginning of the end.”

Oscar stared at him. “For James,” Lando clarified urgently. “For the intern. For the entire concept of romance in this company!!”

Oscar leaned back in his chair. “Lan—”

“Don’t ‘Lan’ me,” Lando said, pacing now. “Conflict of interest. Disclosure. Intern relationships banned. Reporting lines. Oh my god.”

Oscar watched him move back and forth like a malfunctioning Roomba. “We are literally,” Lando continued, lowering his voice dramatically, “a CEO and his PA.”

Oscar exhaled slowly. “Yes.”

“That’s worse,” Lando hissed. “That’s worse than IT and intern. That’s hierarchy. That’s policy. That’s—” He stopped. Pointed at the draft. “Section three.”

Oscar looked down. “You read it.”

“I skimmed it,” Lando corrected. “Aggressively.”

Oscar stood up calmly and walked around the desk. “First,” he said, voice level, “we are not in a direct evaluation relationship.”

Lando stared. “You evaluate my performance.”

“Yes,” Oscar said. “But you’re not an intern. You’re not under probation. And we’re not hiding a power imbalance in secret corners.”

Lando squinted. “That sounds like legal language.”

“It is,” Oscar replied. Lando ran a hand through his hair. “This is bad. This is very bad. We’re doomed. We’re going to be a footnote in the revised HR handbook.”

Oscar crossed his arms. “Lando.”

“What.”

“Stop spiraling.”

“I am not spiraling,” Lando snapped, voice already higher than usual. “I am forecasting.”

Oscar almost smiled. “James was reckless,” Oscar said evenly. “With someone who had less power, less stability, and no protection.”

Lando’s pacing slowed slightly. “That’s not us,” Oscar continued. Lando looked at him. “We’re adults,” Oscar said quietly. “We’re stable. And if we ever needed to disclose, we would do it properly.”

Lando blinked. “…We would?” Oscar’s expression didn’t change. “Yes.”

The word landed heavily. Lando swallowed. “You’re not losing your job,” Oscar added calmly. “And I’m not losing you because of someone else’s stupidity.”

The room felt smaller again—but not tense this time. Lando exhaled slowly, shoulders lowering. “…Okay.” Oscar stepped closer, lowering his voice.

“And if you ever start yelling ‘THIS IS THE END FOR US’ inside a glass office again, I will personally assign you to budget forecasting.”

Lando gasped. “That’s cruel.” Oscar’s mouth curved slightly. “Exactly.” The panic didn’t disappear entirely. But it softened. And for now that was enough.

Internal Memorandum_Draft

Updated Policy on Workplace Relationships & Conflict of Interest

Issued by HR & General Affairs (GA)
Effective Immediately

Following a recent internal compliance review, the Human Resources (HR) and General Affairs (GA) Departments have drafted updated regulations governing workplace relationships to safeguard professional integrity, operational fairness, and reporting transparency.

1. Scope & Definition

A “workplace relationship” refers to any romantic, intimate, or sexual relationship between employees, regardless of duration, exclusivity, or formal designation.

This policy applies to all employees, contractors, and temporary staff.

2. Mandatory Disclosure

Employees engaged in a workplace relationship are required to formally disclose the relationship to HR within five (5) working days of its commencement.

Failure to disclose within the stipulated timeframe will be subject to disciplinary action.

3. Reporting Structure Boundaries

Romantic or intimate relationships are strictly prohibited where:

• One employee directly or indirectly supervises the other

• One employee has influence over the other’s performance evaluation, promotion, compensation, assignment, or contract status

In the event such a relationship develops, immediate restructuring of reporting lines or reassignment may be required at management discretion.

4. Intern-Employee Relationstips

Relationships between interns and employees are explicitly prohibited, regardless of department, reporting line, or perceived consent.

Any violation of this clause will result in immediate disciplinary review and may lead to termination of employment or internship placement.

5. Conflict of Interest

Employees must avoid situations in which personal relationships could:

• Compromise professional judgment

• Create perceived or actual favoritism

• Disrupt team dynamics or workplace morale

The Company reserves the right to intervene where a conflict of interest is identified.

6. Professional Conduct

All employees must maintain professional standards at all times while on company premises or using company systems.

Public displays of affection, preferential treatment, or use of company communication platforms for intimate matters are not permitted.

7. Relationship Dissolution

In the event of a relationship ending, both parties are expected to maintain professional conduct. Retaliation, harassment, or creation of a hostile work environment will be subject to formal investigation.

8. Acknowledgment & Compliance

Employees may be required to sign a formal acknowledgment confirming:

• The relationship is voluntary

• Both parties understand the company’s anti-harassment policies

• Disclosure obligations have been fulfilled

Non-compliance with this policy may result in disciplinary action, up to and including termination.