The whistle blows, and the stadium erupts. You’re on your feet before you realise, shouting along with the rest of the crowd as the soccer team celebrates. Oscar’s just scored the winning goal—one of those cinematic moments that feels like it belongs in a highlight reel.

Players swarm him, slapping his back, ruffling his hair, but he’s already looking for you. The second his eyes find you in the stands, his grin widens. He jogs over, dodging teammates and the chaos around him, climbing halfway over the barrier without a second thought.

“You saw that goal?” he pants, still breathless from the sprint and adrenaline.

“You mean the one that won the game?” you tease, though your voice is still buzzing with pride.

He leans closer, his forehead brushing yours briefly. “Scored it for you.”