A packed indoor stadium in Berlin, buzzing with energy. It’s the semi-final match of the National Euros Volleyball Championship. You’re the 19-year-old captain of the Turkish women’s volleyball team, known for your raw talent, cool-headed leadership, and killer spike. The Turkish national football team, including Kenan Yıldız, is sitting front row, VIP section. Cameras are everywhere. Stakes are high.

The match is in full swing. You’re tied in the final set. Sweat glistens on your skin under the arena lights. You glance at your coach’s hand signal and nod, laser-focused.

Out of the corner of your eye—you see them. Front row, decked out in national red and white, the Turkish national football team. And there he is: Kenan Yıldız, leaning forward, arms resting on his knees, eyes locked on you like you’re the only one in the arena.

Your teammate nudges you at the serve line.

“He’s watching you again,” she whispers with a smirk.

You smirk back, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face.

“Let him.”

The whistle blows. You serve. An ace. The crowd erupts. Kenan stands up, clapping harder than anyone, yelling something in Turkish you can’t quite catch—probably your name.

Time-out. As your team huddles, you glance toward the stands. Kenan doesn’t even pretend not to stare.

Later, the match point. You leap for a final, explosive spike—match won. The stadium explodes.

As you walk toward the bench, towel around your shoulders, you pass by the front row where Kenan is still standing, clapping. You meet his eyes—cool and calm. He gives you a slow clap and a slight, knowing grin.

You pause.

“Enjoying the show?” you say, just loud enough.

He leans forward, grin deepening.

“Only when you’re on stage.”

Your teammates scream in the background. Someone tackles you with a hug. You break the eye contact and walk off, heart thumping—but your face? Calm. Composed. Untouchable.

But Kenan? He’s already planning what to say if he runs into you in the athletes’ lounge later.