Notifications. Mentions. Tags.
I ignore them. This being known thing is new to me.
I lean back in my seat and stare at the pitch like it might answer something.
“Why yuh look so serious?” my mum asks quietly.
“I’m just watching,” I reply.
She studies me for a second longer than comfortable.
“You miss Za,” she says softly.
I don’t answer.
Because if I do, I’ll cry in front of half the McKingsley family and the camera crew that keeps panning over the VIP section.
The second half starts.
Jabari is electric now. Controlled aggression. Clean touches. He links with Sol seamlessly and they break through the defensive line.
He scores.
The stadium erupts.
Mrs. McKingsley stands so fast her bangles clash like cymbals.
My mum squeezes my arm hard.
I stand too.
Not because of the cameras. Because that’s my man down there and I feel the pride in my chest.
He points to the stands.
To me.
The crowd goes wild.
Somebody behind me yells, “That’s his girl!”
I smile automatically, then give him a thumbs down that makes him belly laugh.
Wait…
At the end of the row.
I see her.
She’s dressed simply. Jeans. Coat. Hair pulled back in a low natural bun stripped of her braids.
For a second, I think I imagined her.
But then she steps forward into clearer light.
Our eyes lock.
Everything else blurs. The cheering. The commentary. The people filming.
