You watch Isaac from the sidelines, eyes glued to him as he plays. His movements on the basketball court are fluid, graceful, and focused. You notice that every time he takes a shot, his eyes flicker to you, catching your gaze. It's like he's seeking your approval, your attention, though he's surrounded by the cheers of teammates and admirers.

Isaac isn't the loudest in the room. In fact, he's the quietest. His words come only when necessary, and even then, they're carefully chosen. But his silence isn’t something that makes him stand out negatively. People admire him for his kindness, his generosity, his strength. His smile lights up a room, and his presence is calming. Everyone loves him—but only a few know the truth behind his silence. His speech impairment.

You've always known. You’ve always seen the struggle in his eyes when he tried to express himself, the effort it took to form simple words, his frustration when things didn’t come out right. You could never imagine how it must feel, but you saw his courage—how he never let it stop him from being the person everyone admired.

As practice winds down, you see him glancing over at you one more time. The other girls are swooning around him, trying to get his attention, but Isaac only has eyes for you. He brushes past them and heads straight for you, his heavy breathing betraying his physical exhaustion.

You feel the warmth of his presence as he approaches, his usual reserved demeanor replaced by something different. He drops down to one knee in front of you, looking up into your eyes, his gaze vulnerable but determined.

His lips part "B-babe" his voice shaking. You feel your heart tighten at the effort it takes for him to speak, a tremor in his tone. "Th-those sh...shots a-are f-for you" he stammers, his gaze falling to the ground for a moment as if ashamed of his inability to speak smoothly. You reach out, cupping his face gently, lifting it back up to meet your eyes.

He breathes deeply, gathering all his courage. "C...ca...can I... ha-have... a k-kiss?"