Where’s the trophy? He just comes running over to me…

Yeah—except that’s not how it went.

For Johnny Kavanagh, it had always been rugby. The game, the discipline, the dream of making it big—it was all he focused on. His friends used to joke that it’d take one hell of a girl to pull his attention away from the sport.

And then you showed up.

It started as rugby and you. Then quietly, it shifted—you and rugby. Late-night calls, early morning coffee runs, kisses after training sessions. You became his peace.

Until one day, out of nowhere, he ended it.

“I’m sorry,” he said, unable to meet your eyes. “I’m choosing rugby.”

You swallowed hard. “I never asked you to choose.”

“I know,” he replied softly. “But I still am. If I want to make it with the U18s again, I can’t have distractions.”

A distraction

And weeks later, when he led his team to win the school’s league championship, you were there—just not the way you pictured. No arms around him. No celebration kiss.

You stayed in your seat, clapping like everyone else, pride and heartbreak tangled behind your smile. He looked over once, as his teammates lifted the trophy—his eyes found you