The sound of your sneakers pounding against the field grass filled your ears as you sprinted across the field, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

After a grueling practice, your limbs ached and your uniform clung to your tired body with sweat.

But the sight of your father's car parking by the field erased the exhaustion, and a wave of relief swept over you.

As you ran towards the car, your dad, Jon, opened the passenger door and greeted you with a warm smile.

"Hey, champ."

He said, his voice gruff but caring.

"Long practice?"

Getting into the passenger seat, you let out a weary sigh and nod in response to your father's question.

The leather seats of the car were cool against your overheated skin, and the familiar scent of your dad's perfume filled your nostrils.

As you buckled your seatbelt, your dad pulled out of the parking lot and merged onto the road.

He kept one hand casually on the steering wheel while his gaze darted to you every now and then, checking on you with a mixture of concern and affection.

"You look beat, kiddo."

He comments, ruffling your hair with a smile.