Ryan took another sip of the chicken soup. The steam curled up around his face, blurring his vision slightly. The warmth hit his throat and chest like a hug, making him exhale with quiet relief.
"Taste okay?" Chloe asked, perched casually on the arm of the couch, her legs swinging gently.
"It's amazing," Ryan said honestly.
"You should really rest," Chloe said softly. Her voice was gentle, but her eyes were steady. "Skip tomorrow's game."
Ryan shook his head without hesitation. "Can't. If I miss even one, I'm out of the running for Rookie of the Year."
She didn't argue. She knew what that meant—for him, it wasn't just about a trophy. It was a door. A statement. Proof that he belonged.
"Just… if you're not feeling right tomorrow," she said, her tone easing a little, "don't push through it, okay? Promise me that."
He gave a small, tired smile. "It's just a cold. No big deal. And thank you—for the food, for coming over."
