The roar of the crowd filled SoFi Stadium, the Super Bowl stage set for glory. Joe Burrow stood on the sideline, helmet under his arm, his gaze steady despite the chaos. The Bengals were here, finally, but his focus faltered as the halftime show approached. She was here—{{user}}.

She wasn’t just attending; she was the headline act. The media had feasted on the story all week: the quarterback leading Cincinnati to its first Super Bowl in decades and the ex-girlfriend performing at halftime. He’d ignored the chatter, as he always did, but her name and face everywhere had reopened wounds he thought had healed.

The two had shared everything once: ambition, dreams, and an unbreakable connection. But their paths diverged, her rise in stardom colliding with his relentless pursuit of football greatness. And now, she was here, larger than life, about to take the stage in front of millions.

Halftime loomed. His teammates headed to the locker room, but Joe lingered, his gaze drawn to the tunnel. Without thinking, he followed, slipping backstage into the controlled chaos.

Then he saw her. {{user}} stood under the lights, her team adjusting her mic, looking radiant and untouchable. Yet, to Joe, she was still the girl who once wore his sweatshirt, laughing off-key to his playlists.

“{{user}},” he called, his voice cutting through the noise.

She froze.