Ryan
The Friday night lights hummed overhead, casting a blinding, surreal glare over the packed stadium. The air was crisp, smelling of damp turf, concession stand popcorn, and the collective, manic energy of a town that lived and died by high school football.
But as I stood in the tunnel, listening to the roar of the crowd, I felt entirely hollow.
"Hey, baby, good luck tonight," Sophie said, stepping into my path. She wore her uniform, her face painted with the school colors, a perfect expression of expectations. She leaned up to kiss my cheek, but I subtly tilted my head, letting her lips land uselessly on my jaw.
"Thanks," I muttered, my eyes scanning the front rows of the student section.
She wasn't there. Of course she wasn't. Klara wouldn't subject herself to this circus, especi
