Page 121 of My Spanish Love Affair

“He’s unbelievable,” I murmur, more to myself than to Elena.

She chuckles. “Mmmhm. Now, sit back and enjoy the rest of the game. Your man’s got a championship to win.”

The game resumes, and somehow -impossibly- Santi plays on as if nothing happened. It’s as though the hit had ignited something within him, and he moves across the field with an intensity that’s almost superhuman.

Each play is sharper, faster, more precise.

His voice cuts through the chaos, barking commands to his teammates, and they respond like clockwork, the rhythm of the game bending to his will.

“He’s a machine,” Elena laughs, her eyes wide as she watches Santi sidestep an opponent with the kind of finesse that should be impossible after the hit he took. “Does this guy even feel pain?”

“I don’t know how he’s doing it,” I whisper back, my heart still lodged in my throat.

Watching him out there - unstoppable and unyielding - is as exhilarating as it is terrifying.

The final minutes of the match are pure adrenaline. Santi intercepts a pass with a leap that seems to defy gravity, tearing down the field with defenders closing in on him from every angle. Just when it seems like they’ll pull him down, he offloads the ball to a teammate with a perfectly timed pass.

The crowd roars as the try is scored, pushing their lead even further.

“He’s playing like a man possessed,” Elena says, shaking her head in disbelief. “That’s championship-level determinationright there.”

As the clock winds down, the energy in the stadium becomes almost unbearable. Every second stretches into an eternity, the tension crackling through the air like static.

The opposing team fights desperately to close the gap, but Santi’s team holds the line, refusing to give an inch.

And then, finally, the whistle blows.

The sound is drowned out almost instantly by the eruption of cheers and applause from the stands. The scoreboard tells the story - they’ve won.

The championship is theirs.

I jump to my feet, joining the deafening celebration around me as the players on the field throw their arms into the air, shouting in triumph. Teammates hug and tackle one another, some falling to their knees in sheer relief and joy.

The atmosphere is electric; a thrilling, joyous combination of pride, exhaustion, and pure, unfiltered elation.

“He did it,” I say, my voice shaking as I turn to Elena. “They did it!”

“Of course they did,” she replies. “Did you think for a second Santi was going to let them lose? Not a chance.”

On the field, Santi is swept up in the chaos, his teammates pulling him into a massive group hug. His hair is damp with sweat, his face flushed, but the smile on his face is the brightest thing in the entire stadium as the camera’s all zoom in towards the team.

The announcer’s voice booms over the speakers, declaring the victory and announcing the team as the champions. It’s all a blur as I watch the medals be handed out, my eyes glued onto Santi when it’s finally his turn to step forward and shake handswith officials, all exchanging congratulations.

The trophy is brought out, a massive golden symbol of their hard-fought season, and the team stand together and raise it up towards the crowd.

Cameras flash, confetti rains down, and the moment feels like something out of a dream as the crows roars louder than I’ve ever heard.

I can’t stop smiling, my hands clapping along with the rest of the fans, but my eyes never leave Santi. He looks up toward the stands, and for a split second, I think our eyes meet.

“You’re going to need to be ready for him after this,” Elena says, nudging me with her elbow. “He’s going to be on such a high. You might want to clear your schedule for the next twenty-four hours.”

I laugh, shaking my head.

“I’ll manage.”

As the celebration on the pitch continues, Santi is pulled into interviews, cameras surrounding him as reporters ask rapid-fire questions. The crowd begins to filter out of the stadium, but the family and friends of the players are allowed to head down and linger near the pitch.

Some of the player’s have young children who hurry across the field to greet them, and I watch them as I follow Elena’s lead, the adorable sight causing my chest to physically tighten.

---