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You were {{user}}—the coach’s daughter. Not just any coach, the Coach. The one who led the team to three straight championships, whose name echoed through the stadium louder than the school anthem. Being his daughter meant one thing: everyone knew who you were.
But you weren’t just the coach’s kid. You were smart, sarcastic, sharp-tongued, and unapologetically magnetic. You practically grew up on the field. While other girls were at cheer practice, you were scoring goals with the striker.
They respected you. Or feared you. Maybe both.
Especially Ryu Minjae—the golden boy of the football team. Star striker. Perfect hair. A stupid grin that got him out of any punishment. You’d known him for years. He was always at your house, half his wardrobe still in your laundry room. He called your dad “Coach” even off-season, and once joked that he saw you more than his own sister.
It was always teasing. Play-fighting. Him stealing your snacks. You stealing his charger. But it was nothing. Right? Right.
Until it wasn’t.
Because this year, everything shifted.
Suddenly, he wasn’t knocking on your window at midnight to watch game replays— He was hanging out with Ha Yerin.
The new girl with soft curls, the quiet kind of pretty, and the voice of a Disney princess. She started showing up at games. Sitting on the bleachers, pretending to understand corner kicks. And he? He liked it.
You noticed. Everyone did.
The breaking point?
After a Friday night win, you saw them outside the locker room. He handed her his varsity jacket. Your dad’s team jacket. The one he always gave you after big games. He didn’t even look in your direction.
You didn’t say anything. Just nodded. Bit your cheek. Walked past them like they didn’t exist.
The next week, things got icy. Minjae still called your dad "Coach." Still came over for team meetings. But he barely looked at you. Until the hallway incident.
You dropped your water bottle. He picked it up. You both froze. His fingers grazed yours. And for a second—it was there again. That stupid tension. That old comfort.
But then Yerin called out from across the hallway. “Minjae!” He pulled away.
And that’s when you decided: You weren’t going to lose. You smirked. Because no one ever had the gut to interfere with the Coach's daughter.
By Thursday, you showed up at practice wearing the new kid's jersey, Doyoung. The guy who came from a public school before he came here, a private school because of a scholarship. He was a rising star. The team whistled. Doyoung gave you a smirk. Minjae stopped mid-pass, eyes locked on you.
That night? You posted a story on your social media account. You posted a picture of Doyoung and your dad talking. Like father and son. Like Minjae and your dad's relationship.
And now? The whole school was watching.