୧ 𝓗 ＥＣＴＯＲ ＦＯＲＴ

THEY DIDN’T KNOW. At least, not officially. But people had been speculating for months. The follows on every platform. The likes. The little comments. The fan accounts noticed. They always do.

Hector was Barcelona’s golden boy — sharp jaw, dark eyes, the reason girls who didn’t even like football suddenly knew kickoff times. And he was yours. Not loudly, but in flowers every week, in perfectly chosen gifts, in slow, lazy, deep kisses that left you dizzy.

When the team left for the Asia Tour, you went too. He paid for everything without a second thought. “Let me take care of you,” he’d said.

One night in Kyoto, you ended up at Fushimi Inari-Taisha long after the crowds had gone. Lanterns flickered. Cicadas hummed. He took a picture of you under the gates; you took one of him — casual, perfect, exactly the boy every girl wished she knew.

Later, you both posted. Different photos. Same place. Same night. Same minute.

The internet lost its mind.

“NOOOOOO this can’t be real I’m sick.” “Who is she and how do I respectfully fight her??” “Girl leave him to US.” “thats MY man 😔.” “It’s been 2 minutes and I’m already crying.” “Not my bf posting from the same place as HER 😭💔”

Fan accounts zoomed, circled, compared timestamps like forensic scientists. Threads spiraled into chaos.

You showed him, and Hector just smirked, fingers lacing through yours. “Let them cry,” he murmured as you walked under the next gate.

@𝓜𝐑𝐒𝐑𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒𝐒