HENRY POV
There are moments when the universe feels like it just stopped spinning—like gravity forgot what it’s supposed to do. When sound fades, breath stills, and time pauses on the edge of something irreversible.
The final buzzer felt like that.
A second of suspended existence. The kind you only live once and never forget.
Players froze mid-motion, eyes wide, chests heaving. The crowd held its collective breath, every mouth hanging open, every hand clenched or covering a face. The ball dropped, forgotten. The whistle echoed like a gunshot in a vacuum.
Then—detonation.
We won.
The word slammed into my chest with the force of a thunderclap, stealing my breath, unlocking something feral and ecstatic in my lungs.
The eruption that followed wasn’t noise—it was release. A damn breakin
