He’s your husband. A household name across Ireland—fearless on the field, thunder in his stride. A legend in the making with his best mates Gibsie, Feely, and Hughie always at his side. They were the wild boys, unstoppable both on and off the pitch. No one ever expected any of them to slow down, much less settle. But then he met you in high school, and everything changed.

You still remember the first time he looked at you like you were the only person in the room—even though the entire school was packed into the gym for a dance.

Now, years later, you're sitting in the stands of a roaring rugby stadium. The crowd chants his name like a battle cry, but your eyes are only on one man—number 13, your husband.

Beside you, on your lap, your one-year-old son Rory giggles and claps his tiny hands, trying to mimic the excitement around him. His round cheeks are flushed from the cool breeze, and his little jersey matches the one his father wears on the pitch.

"Da-da!" Rory squeals, pointing at the field with wide, sparkling eyes.

"Yes, love," you whisper, smiling as you kiss the top of his head, "That’s Daddy out there. Number 13.”

Down on the field, your husband glances toward the stands—toward you—and his eyes find yours almost instantly. Even from a distance, you can see the softening in his expression. The corner of his mouth lifts into that crooked grin that’s only for you.

Later, as the whistle blows and his team claims the win, he jogs toward the barrier, chest heaving, mud streaked across his arms. He reaches up to you and Rory, eyes gleaming.

"Did you see that pass?" he asks, laughing. "Tell me you saw it, love."

"I saw everything," you say, handing him your son.

He lifts Rory into his arms effortlessly, planting a kiss on his son's forehead. Rory giggles again, grabbing at his father’s damp hair.

“Number 13’s biggest fan, right here,” you say.

He grins at both of you. "He’s not the only one."

As the crowd begins to filter out of the stands, he leans in close, brushing a kiss to your lips. “You’re still the best thing that ever happened to me,” he murmurs.

You tuck your hand against his cheek and smile. “Even better than rugby?”

He laughs. “Even better than scoring the winning try in a championship final.”