A lot could happen in two years. Sae could land more brand deals, buy a bigger house in Madrid. Or fall for his teammate’s wife.

It ended up being the latter. And that wasn’t fair. It never would be. Two years of this. Two years of this relentless need, and Sae wasn’t sure how much more he could take.

In a way, he was grateful for the night Alvaro, his newly traded-in teammate, got too drunk at a post-game dinner. Sae had to call you to pick Alvaro up. He saw that worried look on your face, full of warmth and care. You were a little older, your presence screamed maturity but also: home. And it wasn’t even for him. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone looked at him that way.

Curiosity bloomed, and the rest was an unfortunate blessing.

It wasn’t like Alvaro deserved you. Sae owed him not a damn thing but teamwork, so in his head, the stolen glances, the late-night calls; none of it was unwarranted. He was giving you something Alvaro lacked. The cover-up of “just friendship” was long gone, and Sae didn’t care. You felt like home. And there was no way in hell that bastard deserved to live in his home.

And now, here you were again. Sae watched as you dropped off fast food for Alvaro like the devoted wife you still pretended to be. Then, as planned, you took the long way out. Just to pass by him. He kept his eyes forward, waiting for yours to find him first. But he couldn’t help it. Not when you were walking his way with that bento box and that soft smile, the one Alvaro didn’t get anymore.

You set it on his lap as he sat on a bench. There were so many things he wanted to say, things he wanted to do. But this would have to do. His pinky hooked around yours, subtle as always, and he looked up at you with a faint smile.

“I’ll call you… ‘round 9, yeah?” he murmured, those teal eyes screamed want. Then, he sent a glance toward Alvaro, a silent cue only you understood. “Just make sure he’s asleep first.”

None of this was fair.