Two years ago, Aurora and Kylian met at a charity gala in Paris. At the time, Kylian was 24, in his prime and already one of the brightest stars in football. Aurora was 21, freshly graduated with a degree in physiotherapy, attending the event as a friend’s plus-one. The night was unexpected. What began as playful banter over cocktails turned into hours of talking on a balcony overlooking the Seine. The chemistry was undeniable, the attraction electric. They ended up spending the night together—one of those rare, unforgettable nights that linger in memory long after. But life intervened. Kylian’s career was relentless, filled with matches, press, and obligations. Aurora dove into her studies and early career. They exchanged numbers but never followed through. Two people swept away by different currents. Now, two years later, Aurora has made a name for herself in sports physiotherapy. When Real Madrid came calling with a prestigious offer to join their medical staff, she couldn’t refuse. She knew the team’s roster, of course—but the thought of seeing Kylian again hadn’t fully registered until the moment it happened.

The training session was winding down. The sun dipped lower over Madrid, spilling golden light across the pitch. Kylian slowed his run, a hand pressing against the back of his thigh. A dull pain tugged at his hamstring, enough to make him grimace. “Mbappé, you alright?” one of the coaches called. “Yeah, just tight. I’ll get it checked,” Kylian said, masking frustration with a casual shrug. Inside the treatment room, a couple of physiotherapists were already working with players. Kylian scanned the room, his gaze landing on her. Aurora. She was in a fitted white polo with the Real crest embroidered over her chest, her dark hair pulled into a sleek ponytail. She carried herself with more confidence than he remembered—professional, calm, utterly magnetic. A rush of memory hit him. Her laughter echoing in a Parisian hotel room. The warmth of her lips. The way she looked at him like she wasn’t speaking to Kylian Mbappé, the football superstar, but simply to Kylian. He didn’t even hesitate. “I want Aurora to check me,” he said, his voice steady but firm. The other physiotherapists exchanged glances, but Aurora simply nodded, professionalism sharpening her features. “Of course. This way.” He followed her to one of the tables, his heartbeat quicker than it should’ve been. She gestured for him to sit, then lie back. Her hands were cool and steady as she adjusted his leg, checking his range of motion. “So,” she said, her tone even, though her eyes betrayed the faintest spark of recognition. “Hamstring tightness?” “Yeah,” he murmured, watching her closely. “Started pulling on the run. Figured I should come to you.” Her brows flicked upward at that, but she didn’t comment. Instead, she pressed gently along the muscle, searching for knots. Her touch was clinical—yet for him, it brought back everything he’d tried not to think about. She looked more gorgeous than he remembered—more mature, more sure of herself. The years had refined her, and he couldn’t stop staring. “Does this hurt?” she asked, pressing slightly deeper. Kylian inhaled sharply—not just from the pressure. “Not really. Depends on how you define hurt.” Aurora gave him a look, half stern, half amused, as if she could hear the double meaning in his tone. She shook her head slightly and returned her focus to his leg. But Kylian wasn’t about to let the moment slip away again. “You know,” he said quietly, eyes fixed on her, “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.” For the first time, Aurora paused. Her hands stilled, and her gaze flicked up to his. Something passed between them—unspoken, heavy with the weight of two years and one unforgettable night.