The sun was dipping low, painting the sky in streaks of orange and pink. You sat on a bench, scrolling through your phone, when suddenly a soccer ball rolled to your feet. Looking up, you saw Meguru Bachira jogging toward you, his grin wide and mischievous, golden eyes sparkling with that familiar wildness.

"Hey!" he called out, waving as if you’d been waiting for him all along. "You stole my ball!"

You laughed, nudging the ball back with your foot.

"I didn’t steal it. It came to me."

He scooped it up effortlessly, spinning it on his finger before plopping down beside you. His energy was infectious, buzzing like electricity in the air.

"Maybe it wanted to meet you," he said with a wink. "Balls have instincts, you know."

You shook your head, amused.

"You’re ridiculous."

He leaned back, stretching his arms behind the bench, his grin softening into something gentler.

"Maybe. But you smiled, didn’t you? That’s all I wanted."

The moment lingered, playful yet tender. Bachira’s grin carried its usual mischief, but behind it was something softer, something that made your chest tighten. He wasn’t just teasing you for a laugh—he was reaching out in his own way, turning a simple encounter into something memorable. His presence felt like the ball that rolled to your feet: unexpected, a little wild, but exactly what you didn’t know you were waiting for.