The Love We Left Behind

Unexpected Sight At The Stadium

It was a sunny Sunday afternoon, and the stadium buzzed with energy. The bright lights bounced off the polished seats, reflecting streaks of sunlight across the field. The roar of the crowd was almost deafening, a constant wave of excitement that made the stadium feel alive. Evan and his mom had arrived early to secure good seats near the middle‑field line, the kind of spot that gave a perfect view of both benches and the kickoff.

As they settled in, Evan’s mom reached into her purse and pulled out a couple of crisp bills.

“Hey buddy,” she said with a smile, “go get some popcorn and juice—orange flavor for me, please.”

Evan nodded, slipping the cash into his pocket. He stood, stretching his legs, and headed down the concrete aisle toward the concession stand. The smell of buttery popcorn mixed with the faint tang of hot dogs, drifting toward him with every step. From the field, the scent of fresh-cut grass wafted in, grounding him in the reality of the game.

He walked slowly, scanning the crowd. Families waved banners, kids ran up the stairs, and vendors shouted, “Get your nachos here!” The stadium felt like a giant, moving organism. He loved being a small part of it—until something caught his eye.

When he reached the concession stand and joined the line, his gaze drifted toward the entrance tunnel. And that’s when he saw her.

Bethany.

She stood near the stadium’s main doorway, chatting animatedly with a boy wearing the same debate club uniform she sometimes wore for school events. The jacket bore the familiar emblem of their school club, and his hair was perfectly styled, gelled neatly. He laughed at something she said, leaning in close as if they shared a secret only the two of them could understand.

Evan’s stomach twisted. He felt his heart beat faster, an unfamiliar pang of jealousy creeping in. He instinctively ducked behind a nearby pillar, peeking out just enough to make sure he wasn’t imagining it. But there was no mistake—it really was Bethany. The boy’s arm brushed her shoulders casually, a touch that should have been innocent, but Evan couldn’t help the sudden surge of unease that clutched his chest.

They laughed together, and Evan noticed how her smile had changed—bright, open, unguarded, and different from the playful teasing she usually reserved for him. Every laugh, every shared glance, felt like a small jab in his chest.

Who was this boy? Evan’s mind raced. Classmate? Teammate? Someone new? He swallowed, trying to steady himself, but it was no use. The more he watched, the heavier the pit in his stomach became.

He reached for his phone almost unconsciously, fingers trembling as he dialed Bethany’s number. The ringtone sounded once, twice… and then a click. Call declined. His chest sank. She hadn’t answered.

Evan let out a soft, frustrated sigh and shoved his phone back into his pocket. He tried to focus on the line moving forward, on the smell of popcorn, the excitement around him—but every sound seemed to fade into background noise. He couldn’t stop picturing her laughing with that boy, her head tilted toward him, shoulders brushing casually.

Finally, he stepped up to the counter.

“One large popcorn, please,” he said, trying to keep his voice even. “And one orange juice.”

The vendor shook his head. “Sorry, we’re out of orange. Only lemon left.”

Evan hesitated, his thoughts still stuck on Bethany and the boy. Then he shrugged, trying to sound casual. “Lemon’s fine,” he said, handing over the cash.

Tray in hand, he hurried back to their seats. His mom glanced at the drink and raised an eyebrow.

“I said orange, why did you get me lemon?”

“They were out, Mum,” Evan muttered, sitting down, his gaze already drifting toward where he’d last seen Bethany.

His mom sipped the juice, made a small face, then turned her attention to the field as players warmed up. Evan, however, couldn’t focus. His eyes scanned the rows of seats below, searching, and there she was—Bethany. She sat next to the boy, laughing at something he’d just said. He leaned in slightly toward her, and she didn’t pull away. Instead, she tilted her head toward him, comfortable and easy, and Evan felt a sharp pang in his chest.

The game began, and the stadium erupted in cheers. Evan tried to immerse himself in the excitement—the ball streaking across the field, the players shouting to each other—but he couldn’t. Every pass, every goal attempt, blurred in the background. His mind was stuck on Bethany and that boy.

Jealousy gnawed at him, uninvited and intense. He hated himself for it, but he couldn’t stop imagining what their relationship was. Friends? Teammates? Or… something more? Every laugh, every nudge, every casual touch was a jab to his chest, making it hard to breathe.

He tried to reason with himself. It’s nothing. She’s just talking to a friend. Chill. But the rational thoughts felt weak, easily drowned by the swirling mix of uncertainty and possessiveness.

By halftime, Evan’s nerves were frayed. He clapped along with the cheering crowd, tried shouting “Go, team!” but it felt hollow. Every time he looked toward Bethany, he had to swallow hard to keep from making a scene. The boy’s arm rested casually around her shoulders again, and she leaned in just slightly, her laughter ringing in Evan’s ears. He couldn’t help imagining it as something it probably wasn’t.

He felt a strange tension rising in him, the mix of anger, jealousy, and longing coiling tight. His hands fidgeted with the napkin on his tray, tapping it against the plastic edge. He wanted to call her again, ask her why she was sitting with that boy, but he didn’t. She’d already declined his last call, and Evan didn’t want to look foolish.

Evan’s mind raced with every little detail he could remember—how her hair glimmered in the sunlight when she laughed, the way her eyes crinkled, the tilt of her head when she smiled at that boy. He hated that he noticed these things so vividly, that he cared so much, even when logically, she was just enjoying her time.

The second half began, and Evan tried to focus on the game, trying to push the images from his mind. He shouted when his team scored, clapped when they defended well, and even stood when the crowd rose in excitement. Yet, every celebratory cheer felt forced. He kept sneaking glances at Bethany, heart racing whenever he caught sight of her smiling, laughing, leaning in casually toward the boy.

As the final whistle blew and the stadium began to empty, Evan’s mom nudged him gently. “You okay, Evan?”

He forced a small smile. “Yeah, I’m fine… just tired, I guess.”

She gave him a look that suggested she didn’t fully believe him but didn’t press further. “Let’s get home. We can talk later if you need to.”

They descended the concrete steps, the chatter of the departing crowd fading behind them. Evan cast a final glance toward Bethany’s section, but she and the boy were already gone, swallowed by the flow of people. His stomach twisted at the sight of the empty seats, the echo of her laughter lingering in his mind.

The image of Bethany leaning against the boy, laughing freely, stayed with him long after they had left the stadium. He thought about calling her again, trying to ask her why she hadn’t answered, but he stopped himself. Maybe she was busy. Maybe it wasn’t anything. And yet, the jealousy didn’t ease—it simmered, a stubborn knot in his chest, leaving him with more questions than answers.