The noise hit me first.
A living, vibrating roar that pulsed through the stadium like a heartbeat. Lights. Chants. Movement everywhere. The air smelled like grass, sweat, and anticipation.
“This is insane,” I muttered.
Sara grinned beside me, already scanning the field. “Welcome to his world.”
I adjusted in my seat, suddenly aware of how small I felt here. This wasn’t coffee. This wasn’t late-night messages or quiet kisses in a dim apartment.
This was spectacle.
When Mateo’s name was announced, the reaction was immediate—screams, signs, phones raised like offerings. Women around us stood, shouting his name, waving, blowing kisses.
My chest tightened.
There he was.
Focused. Grounded. Alive in a way that was almost intimidating.
He moved with confidence, every step purposeful. The
