"Rosette!"
Nathan's voice called out sharply, surprise lacing his tone as he spotted her stepping out of the bullpen. He was on his way to check on Dranred before the second half of the game, but he hadn't expected to see her there.
"You were with Dranred?" he asked, brows furrowing. "When did you get here?"
"Nathan," Rosette greeted softly, a bit startled by his intensity. "Yeah, I was with him. Uncle Charlie said he wasn't in good condition to play, so I came to talk to him. I only just arrived."
"You came here to watch him?" Nathan pressed.
"Yes—and to support the team," she replied with a small smile. "I saw how you played earlier. You really stepped up for the team while he was out. You've improved a lot."
Nathan gave a dry chuckle. "But that's still not enough to make me the one you choose, is it?"
"Nathan…"
"I know," he said quickly, his tone sharpening. "But I'm not giving up. Until you're married to him, I won't lose hope." He met her eyes, determination burning in his gaze. "Watch me in this game. I'll outperform Dranred."
"Nathan, please—"
"Don't look at me like that," he cut her off, his voice low but edged with emotion. "Pity is the last thing I need from you." He turned his back to her. "I'll prove that I can be better than him. And when I do, I'll ask again—if there's even a chance for me."
Before Rosette could respond, he was already walking into the bullpen. She started to follow but stopped midway, letting out a quiet sigh. She knew he wouldn't listen right now. With heavy steps, she turned and made her way back to the audience stands, where James was waiting for her.
Inside the bullpen, Nathan approached Dranred, who was adjusting his mitt.
"You good now?" Nathan asked, his tone calm but firm. "Whatever you're going through, pull yourself together. You're not playing baseball alone. This isn't just about you. Every player on this team is here fighting for their own dream. So focus—and do your part."
"I know that," Dranred replied, his expression unreadable. "You don't have to remind me."
"You'll be pitching in the sixth inning," Nathan continued. "We're down by two runs. If you mess this up, this could be our last game in the World Cup. Just being here is already an achievement—but since we've made it this far, why stop now?"
"I get it," Dranred said, meeting his gaze. "Just make sure to catch my pitches." He started walking toward the door, but Nathan's next words stopped him.
"Pitch properly this time," Nathan said. "Lately, your throws have been all over the place."
Dranred turned slightly, glancing back. "You've noticed."
"I'm your catcher," Nathan replied with a faint smirk. "Of course I'd notice when your pitches are off. Honestly, I thought you and Rosette had a fight."
"What?" Dranred frowned, puzzled.
"Well, that's the only logical reason I could think of for your pitching to be a mess," Nathan said. "But I guess that's not it. I saw her outside the bullpen. She really knows when to step in and get you back on track."
Dranred gave a faint, confident smile. "That's why you should just give up already. There's nowhere your waiting will lead. She's already mine."
Nathan's smirk hardened. "She's not wearing a ring yet," he shot back. "So she's not yours."
The air between them grew thick—two rivals standing face to face, both driven by pride, passion, and something neither could let go of.
"And what exactly are you saying?" Dranred asked, his tone calm but edged with warning.
"I'm saying she's not tied to you yet," Nathan replied, meeting his gaze squarely. "She could still change her mind. All I have to do is show her who's better between the two of us."
Dranred turned fully toward him, their eyes locking. The air between them thickened with tension. Nathan could feel the weight of Dranred's stare — cold, steady, unflinching.
"You're hopeless," Dranred said quietly. "Don't hurt yourself chasing something that isn't there. We both know who Rosette's heart belongs to."
Nathan's jaw tightened. "You're too full of yourself. She only looks at you that way because you've known each other longer."
Dranred gave a faint, humorless smile. "If that's what you need to believe, go ahead. Delude yourself if it makes you feel better." He adjusted his cap, then started walking toward the door. "Get your arm ready, Nathan. I'll be taking the mound for the second half."
As the door swung shut behind him, Nathan's hands curled into fists. His nails dug into his palms, but he barely felt the sting. He knew, deep down, that Dranred was right — Rosette had never looked at him the way she looked at that man. Still, his pride refused to let go.
Maybe it wasn't love that kept him fighting.
Maybe it was the desperate need not to lose — not to Dranred, and not to himself.