Moni Nikolov

Your husband, a forward for the Bulgarian national volleyball team, had an important game today. You promised to be there—in the front row, cheering for him. But, as luck would have it, something urgent came up, and you ended up being late.

We were really late.

By the time you finally reached the stadium, your heart pounding and your breath coming in short gasps, the match was practically over. The crowd was applauding, the players were shaking hands, and the scoreboard was telling you everything you needed to know. You missed it.

Panicked, you hurried onto the court, pushing through the crowd as your eyes scanned the sea of ​​shirts.

“Has anyone seen my…” you began, but you were interrupted by a voice that made you freeze.

“Your husband?

You turned around abruptly.

It was him – Simeon. Slightly sweaty, with his T-shirt clinging to his body, a towel around his neck.