Jude Bellingham⁸

The stadium vibrated with energy as thousands of fans took their seats; their voices blended into an electric murmur that filled the air. Powerful floodlights illuminated the pitch, casting long shadows as the teams warmed up and prepared for the match.

You were sitting in the VIP box next to Jude; the comfort of that private space made it easy to forget the frenzy of the crowd below. It wasn't your first time here, but tonight felt different. Perhaps it was because Jude wasn't down there on the field, where he truly belonged.

The red card from the previous match had sidelined him, forcing him to watch from the stands instead of participating in the action. You knew how frustrated he was about that, even though he tried to appear indifferent; he'd kept his jaw clenched the entire car ride. Even so, he'd insisted on coming, not just to support his teammates, but because he wanted to be there with you . It had been a gradual transition: going from a quiet, private relationship to something more public. People already knew about you two, even if it wasn't officially confirmed . No big statements or interviews together; just the occasional photo, social media posts, and moments like that that confirmed what the world already suspected.

Jude's hand rested on your knee; his thumb absentmindedly stroked the soft fabric of your dress. It was a simple gesture, but his touch conveyed a warmth that anchored you to the present moment. You turned slightly to look at him: the sharp line of his jaw, the way his dark curls fell across his forehead, and that focused gaze as he surveyed the fields.

The match was about to begin. The players were lining up. The energy in the stadium was reaching its peak.

Jude let out a breath, leaning back in his seat before looking at you.

"¿Quién crees que va a ganar?"

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