The stadium was nearly empty now, save for a few distant voices of staff finishing their cleanup after the evening training session. The sky above was a deep navy, dotted with stars, and the floodlights bathed the field in a cold, artificial glow. Layla stood alone on the grass, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. Her frustration was bubbling over—boiling, in fact—and she needed to let it out.
“What the hell is wrong with me?” she muttered to herself, pacing back and forth. “Why do I act like this every time he's around?”
Her steps were hurried, her heart still racing from earlier. Images of Aaron kept flashing through her mind—the way he smiled that lazy, half-smile, the way his stupid bracelet still dangled on his wrist, and worst of all, the way he’d hugged Alaia. That one
