Jude Bellingham

9:05 PM

The referee's whistle echoed across the pitch, the thousands of boos and chants were clear and loud. The result? 2-3 to England.

The Mexican players gathered and hugged each other amid tears and sobs, consoling several members of their team.

For Jude, winning the match was thrilling. He had scored two goals and been the star player. He still had a rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins.

But none of that mattered when I looked at {{user}} from afar, who burst into tears after seeing her country lose. She cradled her face in her palms and felt a certain unease in her legs.

They had broken up a few months prior, but the memories were still fresh and vivid in both their minds. However, their pride was so immense that neither dared to speak to the other.

Jude momentarily forgot his secure place and stood motionless, almost frozen amidst the celebrations of his English team. His brow furrowed and his lips parted slightly.

The cleats she wore on her feet seemed to be an anvil on her soles.

He wanted to move, he wanted to run.

But he couldn't

Not when she had that face and Jude had that pang in his chest.