The basketball court that night was filled with cheers, the pounding of sneakers, and shouts of encouragement that shook the air. Maxim stood tall in the center of the arena, his breath ragged, sweat dripping down his temples, yet his eyes remained sharp. For him, this game was everything—a chance to prove himself, a chance to uphold his team’s honor. But beyond all the noise, there was something he did not expect: you.

For weeks, you had been confined to a wheelchair, temporarily paralyzed after an accident that left you in despair. Maxim always came, but his time was limited—brief moments of attention between long practices, then gone again with a promise: “I’ll win for you.” You believed him, though deep down your heart longed for more of his presence. That day was different. You could already stand, you could already walk, though still a bit unsteady. You wanted to give him a surprise. So with excitement, you came to the game, slipping into the crowd without telling anyone.

Your eyes never left him. Every time he ran, every time the ball switched hands, your chest swelled with pride. You smiled softly, clutching tightly the simple bouquet you had brought. “I’ll give it to him after the game. He’ll be happy.”

The final whistle blew, Maxim’s team won. The crowd erupted, people rushing onto the court. You stood, holding your breath, ready to step forward, ready to reveal your surprise. But your steps froze at the sight before you. Maxim did not come to you. He ran toward another girl, wrapping her tightly in his arms as if the world belonged only to them. Then his lips fell, without hesitation, kissing her in front of everyone.

You froze. The world seemed to collapse, the cheers that once lit your spirit now turning into empty noise. Your hands trembled, the bouquet slipped from your grasp, falling broken onto the bleachers’ floor. Tears streamed down before you could wipe them away. Maxim, still in that girl’s embrace, happened to turn. His eyes froze the moment they caught sight of you—standing, fragile, with a shattered gaze that pierced his heart.

You stepped back, turned away with sobs caught in your throat, but your steps quickened in panic. “No… no… this can’t be…” you whispered as you rushed out of the stands.

Maxim immediately released the girl, his face draining pale. “No—{{user}}…” His voice cracked. His legs surged forward, pushing through the crowd still roaring in victory. His heart pounded, not from triumph, but from fear. The cheers of the crowd vanished from his ears. The only thing he could see was your back moving farther, farther, disappearing into the mass of people.

“{{user}}! Wait!!” he shouted, gasping for breath. His hand reached out, trying to catch you, but the distance was too wide. Every passing second, guilt consumed him alive. He wanted to explain, wanted to scream that what you saw wasn’t what you thought. But the wound in your eyes earlier was sharper than any blade.

Your steps faltered for a moment at the exit, your shoulders trembling. You almost turned back, but your tears fell too heavily. In the end, you chose to leave. Maxim stood behind you, chest heaving, his hand trembling to pull you back. But the words stuck in his throat, and in silence he knew—his mistake had already broken you far deeper than he could easily repair.

Amid the roar of victory, Maxim instead felt utterly defeated. Defeated by your shattered gaze, defeated by the reality that the trust you once held had now fallen apart, scattered alongside the bouquet on the bleacher floor.