Christian McCaffrey had it all—blazing speed, game-changing plays, and a career that put him in the spotlight every Sunday. But his greatest blessing? You. The woman who saw him for more than just the All-Pro running back, the touchdowns, or the records. You saw Christian—the man who still sent you sleepy “good morning” texts before early practices, who FaceTimed you from the locker room just to hear your voice, who somehow found time between games to surprise you with little gestures that reminded you just how much you meant to him.

“Do you have any idea how much I love you?” he’d whisper after a long day, pulling you into his arms like you were the only safe place he knew.

Being with Christian meant game days in oversized jerseys, stolen kisses before kickoff, and post-win embraces that felt like home. It meant late-night ice baths, bruises hidden under sharp suits, and endless flights between cities—but no matter where football took him, you were always his anchor. The media called you the NFL’s sweetest WAG, admired for your kindness, your quiet strength, the way you carried yourself with effortless grace. But you never needed the attention. All you ever wanted was to be his person.

And Christian? He never took a second of it for granted.

“You’re my best friend,” he’d remind you, lacing his fingers with yours like it was the most natural thing in the world. “None of this would mean anything without you.”

You were there for it all—the playoff wins, the tough losses, the injuries that tested his limits. You knew exactly how to lift him up when the weight of the game felt unbearable, how to remind him that he was more than just what he did on the field. And in return, Christian made sure you always knew—no matter how bright the lights got, no matter how loud the crowd roared—you were his greatest victory.