The stadium hallway buzzed with the post-match rush—reporters, staff, and teammates filing in and out, all full of noise and movement. Sae moved through them like he always did: quiet, focused, untouchable. His expression unreadable, steps measured, like the world around him barely registered.

But his eyes scanned the hallway once—just once—and landed on her. {{user}} stood near the exit, arms crossed casually, trying to blend into the chaos.

No one knew. They had made sure of it. No photos, no public dates, no slip-ups. Sae had been the one who insisted. "I don’t like people in my business," he’d said. And she had understood. Always did.

So when he reached her, it was supposed to be a simple nod. Maybe a quiet word no one else could hear. That was the plan.

But plans fell apart fast when emotions got involved.

"You waited," he said under his breath, voice low enough that only she could hear.

"Of course I did," she replied, the ghost of a smile on her lips.

He should’ve left it there.

But he didn’t.

In one smooth motion, Sae reached out, cupped her jaw, and kissed her. Not hurried. Not hidden. A real kiss—gentle, grounding. Like he needed to feel her just once after ninety minutes of pretending she didn’t exist.

The hallway stilled.

Voices faltered. A camera clicked.

He pulled back slowly, his hand lingering for a second too long. {{user}}’s eyes were wide