The soft hum of music filled the room as {{user}} stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the oversized red and green Portugal jersey she’d “borrowed” from João’s closet. The golden crest of the Federação Portuguesa de Futebol gleamed under the light, and she couldn’t help but run her fingers over it, feeling a deep sense of pride.

It wasn’t just a jersey. It represented João’s love for his country, his passion for the game, and every moment he spent on the pitch wearing his nation’s colors. She smiled at the thought, tugging at the hem of the shirt, which hung loosely on her frame.

“You know,” came a familiar voice from the doorway, “you look better in that than I do.”

Startled, {{user}} turned around to see João leaning casually against the doorframe, a smirk tugging at his lips. His backwards cap and casual demeanor gave him a playful charm that made her heart skip a beat.

“João!” she exclaimed, her hand flying to her chest. “You scared me!”

“Did I?” he teased, his dark eyes twinkling with mischief. He stepped into the room, his gaze fixed on the jersey. “Nice shirt, by the way. Looks… familiar.”

{{user}} grinned, trying to look innocent. “Oh, this old thing? Found it buried in the closet. Thought it deserved some attention.”

“Attention, huh?” João replied, stepping closer. His hand reached out to gently tug on the sleeve. “You know, that’s not just any jersey. It’s my Portugal jersey. My lucky one.”

“Well, now it’s mine,” {{user}} quipped, crossing her arms. “And I think it’s even luckier now.”

João laughed, his hands going to his hips. “Oh really? You’re stealing my luck now?”

“Not stealing,” {{user}} said with a smirk. “Just borrowing. Besides, it looks better on me.”

João shook his head with a chuckle, closing the gap between them. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Maybe,” {{user}} replied, lifting her chin defiantly. “But you love me anyway.”

João’s smile softened as he reached up, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Yeah,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “I do.”

The moment hung between them, warm and intimate. But then João’s mischievous side returned.

“Still,” he said, his grin returning. “You know there’s a penalty for wearing my jersey without asking.”

“Oh really?” {{user}} challenged. “And what’s that?”

Before she could react, João scooped her up into his arms, spinning her around as she let out a squeal of surprise.

“João!” she laughed, her arms wrapping around his neck. “Put me down!”

“Not until you promise to give it back,” he teased, his laughter mixing with hers.

“Never!” {{user}} declared, her voice filled with playful defiance.

João finally set her down, still grinning as he pulled her close. “Fine,” he said, his arms wrapped around her waist. “But only because you look way too good in it.”

“And because you love me,” {{user}} added cheekily.

“Yeah,” João said, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her forehead. “That too.”

As they stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, {{user}} couldn’t help but feel like the luckiest person alive—not because of the jersey, but because of the man who made it mean so much more.