You sat on the cold metal chair, your hands tucked into the sleeves of your sweater, watching your brother’s big football game unfold under the floodlights. The air was crisp, and the tension was thicker than the fog hovering over the field.

It wasn’t going well. The scoreboard told a story you didn’t want to hear, your brother’s team was down by two points. You sighed, eyes wandering away from the field, trying to distract yourself from the sinking feeling.

Then an eruption of cheers split through the air.

Your head whipped back to the game, and there he was. Victor. Charging down the field with the ball like he owned the night. The way he moved calm, powerful, and laser focused made the crowd go wild.

A minute earlier, you’d overheard him talking to your brother at the sideline.

“If we win this,” your brother had teased with that mischievous grin, “you’re about to be my brother-in-law.”

Victor had paused, glancing toward you in the stands, his lips curling into a smirk. “You mean that?” he’d asked, like he wanted to be sure it wasn’t just locker-room talk.

“Absolutely,” your brother had said, already jogging off.

Victor had turned back to the team, voice loud and confident. “Okay team, here’s the plan—”

Now, as you watched him tear through the defense, your chest tightened. It wasn’t just the game. It was the way he played like he had something, someone to win for.

And when he scored the winning touchdown moments later, his first glance wasn’t at the scoreboard. It was at you.