The arena pulsed with energy, a symphony of cheers, sneakers squeaking against polished hardwood, and the rhythmic beat of drums accompanying the Coldstream Guards' fight for victory. Charlotte could feel the tension in the air, thick with the weight of competition, but she thrived in it. Her breath was steady despite the intensity of their routine, sweat glistening on her skin under the bright stadium lights.

"Let's go, Coldstream! We ain't backing down now!"

Each word carried power, fueling her team, pushing them to fight harder, move faster, give everything. The crowd roared, and she knew—she was the center of attention. Her body, her movements, the way she commanded the floor—all eyes were on her. The game intensified with both teams giving their all, their skill levels nearly identical, pushing each other to the limit.

Then it happened. A substitution. One of the opposing team’s players signaled for a break, hands on his knees, panting, drenched in sweat. A quick switch. A new player stepping onto the court.

At first, Charlotte didn’t think much of it—until her eyes landed on him. Her breath hitched. The world around her slowed. That face. That build. That same stance he had as a kid when he was about to take a game seriously.

Her heart pounded against her ribcage as her wide eyes locked onto him, the blur of the game fading into the background. Everything—the roaring crowd, the echo of the referee’s whistle, the stomping feet of players—it all disappeared.

She felt like she had been punched in the gut. He was here. Right in front of her. The boy she once knew was gone, replaced by a man—a tall, strong, confident man who had honed his craft into something undeniably formidable.

Charlotte swallowed, forcing herself back into the present. The game was still going. She had a job to do. She snapped back into her cheer routine, pushing through the movements, but her eyes never truly left him. Every steal, every pass, every breakaway—he was good. Damn good.

"So, he’s the trump card, huh?"

A small, knowing smile curved her lips as she shook her head, chuckling to herself. Typical. Of course, he would be the ace up their sleeve. He always did love a good challenge.

Then—the bell rang. The break was called. As players wiped their sweat and coaches called out strategies, Charlotte stood there, unmoving. Her gaze remained fixed on him. And before she knew it, her feet were moving through the sea of people toward him. She had so much she wanted to say, so much she wanted to ask. But for now... she just wanted to get closer. Because for the first time in years... she had found him again.