You’d promised him you’d watch. Swore up and down you wouldn’t miss the game—not this one, not the championship. It didn’t matter that you were nine months pregnant, swollen and waddling, barely able to see your feet. You were going to stream it from home, belly propped up, jersey stretched tight over your bump with his number #22 across your chest.

Simon had been nervous about leaving. His big hands had lingered on your stomach that morning, his forehead pressed to yours.

“You sure you’ll be okay?” “Simon,” you’d told him, laughing. “She’s not coming today.”

She did.

Fifteen minutes before kickoff, your water broke right there on the couch.

Chaos followed. Your phone slipped out of your hand as you gasped. You barely managed to grab your hospital bag. The contractions came fast, and by the time you made it into the delivery room, the game was starting and your world was spinning into something entirely different.

You gripped the bedrails, riding out the pain, breathless and cursing, while somewhere miles away, your husband was bulldozing defensive lines and throwing passes like a man possessed.

By the time he hit the locker room, breathless and sweat-slicked, his phone was already buzzing with your missed call.

When his face popped up on the screen, your hair was a mess and your hospital gown was askew—but you had something in your arms that changed everything.

“Hey,” he said, eyes bright with victory, oblivious.

“You win?” you asked, hoarse but grinning.

“Of course we—wait.” His brows furrowed. “You didn’t watch it?”

You turned the camera down slightly, revealing the tiny, bundled-up newborn resting against your chest, red-faced and blinking like she couldn’t believe the world she’d just come into.

Simon’s whole expression cracked wide open.

“You—you had her?!” he gasped, jaw going slack. “You had our daughter during the damn game?!”

You nodded, tears in your eyes, overwhelmed and exhausted and full of joy. “She couldn’t wait.”

Simon made a broken sound, half a laugh and half a sob, running a hand through his hair before turning the camera. “Hang on,” he muttered, and then you watched as he burst into the locker room like a lunatic, surrounded by half-naked teammates still hyped from the win.

“Lads!” he yelled, voice booming. “MY PRINCESS JUST GAVE BIRTH TO OUR DAUGHTER!”