Rosette blinked in surprise when a familiar voice broke the quiet hum of the art gallery.
"Nathan!" she exclaimed, turning to see him sitting beside her on the long bench near the center of the room. Paintings lined the walls, but her focus instantly shifted to the tall figure now leaning casually beside her. "What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be playing in the World Cup?"
"It's our day off," Nathan replied, his tone light but his eyes fixed on her.
"And you're spending your day off traveling across countries instead of resting?" she said, shaking her head. "You really should take it easy."
"I can only rest," he said quietly, "once I hear the answer I've been waiting for."
Rosette's breath caught. He was still at it. For months, Nathan had been persistent — stubborn, even — despite her constant rejections. She had told him many times that she couldn't return his feelings, but he always brushed it off with that same confident smile.
"Nathan…" she started, searching for the right words.
But before she could finish, a deep, familiar voice interrupted her from behind.
"If there's one thing I admire about you, Nathan," the voice said smoothly, "it's your persistence — persistently irritating."
Rosette froze. Her heart skipped a beat. That voice… it couldn't be.
Slowly, she turned. And there he was — Dranred. Standing a few feet away, his usual calm expression framed by the light streaming from the tall windows. He looked just the same — maybe even better — his presence commanding the room effortlessly.
"What are you doing here?" Nathan demanded, frowning as he turned to face him.
Dranred crossed his arms and tilted his head slightly. "Why else?" he said with a faint, confident smile. "Because my girl is here. And I'm here to—"
But before he could finish, Rosette spun around and gave him a sharp look that could silence an entire stadium.
"What's with that stare?" Dranred said, half teasing, half defensive, exhaling deeply.
Rosette turned back to Nathan, her tone soft but firm. "I'm sorry, Nathan. Let's talk another time."
Nathan hesitated, his eyes moving from her to Dranred. "All right," he said finally, though there was a trace of disappointment in his voice. Their eyes locked for a moment — silent, tense — before Nathan gave a small nod and walked away.
Dranred watched him go, then muttered, "What's wrong with that guy? He's just as stubborn as ever."
Rosette crossed her arms, her lips curving slightly. "I could say the same thing about you."
Dranred blinked, turning to her in disbelief. "Wait, what? You're comparing me to him?" he said, incredulous.
Her expression didn't change — she only smiled faintly, and that was enough to leave him speechless.
The evening air hung heavy with silence as Dranred took a hesitant step forward.
"All right. I'm sorry," he said, his voice low but firm.
Rosette didn't answer right away. Her arms were crossed, her gaze steady. "I'm listening."
He drew in a breath, as if bracing himself for the truth. "I didn't show up for the past three years because I couldn't promise that I'd still have the same resolve. I missed you every single day, Rosette. There were times I almost came back—times I nearly bought the first ticket home. But I stopped myself because I knew it would be selfish. I knew that the moment I saw you, I'd lose all control. The only thing that kept me together was the thought that you'd be waiting for me."
He reached for her hand, fingers trembling slightly.
Rosette's heart thudded painfully against her ribs. "And what are you doing here now?" she asked. "Aren't you supposed to be in Mexico?"
"I would be—if Nathan hadn't come here first." His jaw tightened. "I've been restraining myself for three long years, only to find out he's been visiting you all this time. Do you know how frustrating that was? I told myself I'd wait until the final game. But when I learned someone else was after you…" He gave a short, helpless laugh. "I couldn't just sit still anymore."
Rosette lifted her chin, half in defiance, half to hide the warmth creeping into her cheeks. "And what do you think of me, huh? How many times do I have to tell you that my heart—"
"Your heart belongs to me," he interrupted with a grin, stealing the words right out of her mouth.
Her protest died in her throat. "So you already know," she murmured, a reluctant smile tugging at her lips.
Dranred chuckled softly and pulled her into his arms.
"Planning to crush my bones?" she teased, her voice muffled against his chest.
"Oops." He loosened his hold, but his hands lingered at her back. "I just missed you so much I couldn't hold back anymore."
He suddenly froze, as if remembering something. "Ah!"
Rosette looked up at him, amused. "What now?"
"Do you still have the baseball I gave you?"
"The one in the box?"
He nodded eagerly.
"I threw it away," she said casually, looking away.
His face fell. "What? Why would you do that? That was special!"
"Serves you right," she said, smirking—but when she caught the disappointment in his eyes, her smile softened. "I still have it," she admitted quietly. "You told me not to open it. What's inside anyway?"
"That's a secret," he said, his grin returning. "I'll make it to the finals and win the World Cup this time. Just promise me you'll bring that box on the day of the championship."
"And if you don't make it?" she asked, arching a brow.
"That's impossible," he said, confidence flaring in his eyes. "I'm the Fire Ace. Haven't you heard? My team just won the Majors."
"Show-off," she said, laughing softly.
"I can only say those things in front of you," he replied, leaning in until their foreheads almost touched. "Let me have this moment."
He wrapped his arms around her again, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I'm finally home, my light. I needed three years' worth of recharging."
Rosette smiled, feeling her walls finally crumble. "Welcome home," she murmured, returning his embrace. "My brightest star."