The silence inside the locker room felt heavier than any roar of a crowd.
Sheila adjusted her shirt slowly, her fingers trembling despite how carefully she tried to control them. The fluorescent lights above buzzed faintly, making the entire moment feel too real, too exposed.
Across from her, Atticus leaned against the lockers, his chest still rising and falling unevenly. His hair was slightly disheveled, and there was something unfamiliar in his expression. Something softer. Something uncertain.
Neither of them spoke.
Not at first.
Sheila avoided his eyes as she reached for her hockey bag. The simple movement felt like dragging herself back into reality, like pulling away from a dream she wasn’t sure she wanted to wake up from.
“We shouldn’t have…” she started, but her voice faded b
