It was the second day of Sports Week, and the gym was buzzing with noise — cheers, chants, and the squeak of sneakers echoing off the court. Today was the big game: the 12th graders versus the 11th graders. And at the center of it all was your boyfriend — Heeseung, the captain ball of the team.

You sat with your friends in the bleachers, trying to focus on cheering, but your eyes kept following him — the way he ran across the court, the determination in his gaze, the small frown that formed whenever the other team scored.

By halftime, the 11th graders were leading. Heeseung looked exhausted — sweat dripping down his temples, chest rising and falling heavily. You could tell the frustration was eating at him; he hated losing, even just by a few points.

The coach called a timeout and decided to bench him, giving him a chance to rest before sending him back in once the game got tighter. You watched as he sat down, running a hand through his hair, head hanging low.

From where you sat, you wanted nothing more than to run up to him, hand him a towel, and tell him it’s okay — that one loss doesn’t change how good he is, how proud you are. But for now, you stayed put, watching quietly as the boy who gives everything on the court tried to catch his breath — not realizing that, in your eyes, he’d already won something far greater.