She was thin and childlike, her cheeks tinged with two unnatural red spots that made her pale skin look even whiter. A fine layer of sweat beaded on her forehead.

Huddled in the cramped space of the TV cabinet, knees hugged to her chest, one hand over her mouth to stifle sound, her eyes sparkled with a wide smile.

Anyone could tell—she'd been hiding in there for a while. Hot, stuffy, drenched in sweat.

But she clearly didn't care.

Mischief gleamed in her eyes, bright and dazzling, lit with the kind of excitement that sparkles in children when a prank lands perfectly.

In that moment, as her gaze met Lance's, the joy and satisfaction in her eyes spilled over—

Not because she saw Lance, but because her prank worked on him. Her pride was shining like a trophy.

"Hi."

She greeted him.

Then raised her finger to her lips.

"Shh."

Peeking her head out, she looked around cautiously—then shrank back into the cabinet again and shot a look at Lance.

Lance: ???

Wait… was that an invitation?

He looked down at his long arms and legs, then back at the cabinet. He opened his hands as if to say, "Are you sure?"

She blinked, lips pressed together, and let out a breathy little giggle.

Logic told Lance he should call Jenna, maybe notify the hospital staff. No need to keep everyone running around like this. That would be the responsible thing to do.

But…

Lance didn't know this girl's full story—but he had a feeling.

She was only eleven. That age where you're supposed to be playful, wild, curious about the world. But half her life had been spent bouncing between hospital beds and her home.

She had no childhood. No real friends. Barely any life.

She'd probably never know what it felt like to live like other kids. She was stuck in one place, alone, like a caged canary—forced to figure out how to play by herself.

And if she wanted to play hide-and-seek…

Then maybe Lance should let her.

Logic paused.

Lance crossed his legs and sat down on the floor, face to face with the little girl, eyes on the same level.

"Hey, I'm Lance."

She kept her hand over her mouth but nodded shyly. "I know."

Lance chuckled. "You were really sneaky back there—totally had me fooled." He extended a hand. "Do I get the honor of learning your name?"

She stared at his hand for a second, then slowly reached out—not to shake it, but to ball her small fist and place it in his open palm. The size difference was laughable. She widened her eyes in wonder.

"Wow!"

Lance grinned and echoed, "Wow!"

"So… are all football players as big as you?" she asked, eyes gleaming with curiosity.

Lance shrugged lightly. "I'm not sure. But soon you can ask my friends—they're football players too. I think they'd love to answer your questions."

She caught the playful tone in his voice and couldn't help laughing, clearly pleased with how everything was going so far.

Seeing she hadn't gone for a handshake, Lance didn't push. "So, who exactly are we hiding from? Doctors? Or me?"

Her eyes twinkled. "Felix."

Lance: ???

She said it seriously. "Felix planned a surprise. I know he wants to make me cry. Hmph, like I'd give him the satisfaction."

Lance raised an eyebrow. "Did you cry?"

The girl: …

Lance watched her stunned expression and slowly started to smile. "Looks like Felix still won."

Blush.

Just like that, her cheeks turned red. Her eyes darted around, clearly trying to hide her embarrassment.

Lance let up. "If you're going to surprise Felix back, we'd better get ready. They'll be back soon."

She snapped back to attention, looking at Lance, puzzled.

Lance held out his hand like a gentleman and gave her a small nod.

She hesitated—wary at first—but when she looked into Lance's eyes, she reached out and took his hand, slowly following his lead out of the cabinet. "But…"

"Shh," Lance whispered, finger to his lips. "You know 007?"

She nodded. "Yeah, but—"

"You're 007. I'm 023."

She froze. Then the joke sank in, and she clapped her hand over her mouth, giggling uncontrollably.

Light on her feet, she followed behind Lance, copying his movements. She watched as he crept to the room's entrance, peeked out into the hallway, then quickly pulled back and motioned her to retreat.

The room had a main entrance, a small corridor, a restroom on the left, a work desk on the right—then the space opened into the actual patient room.

Lance pulled her with him past the corridor and pressed them up against the wall, out of sight.

"Shh. They'll be here any second," Lance whispered.

She looked up at him, her heart pounding with excitement. It wasn't just because the man from the TV was right in front of her—it was what they were doing together.

No one else ever did things like this.

Not her dad. Not her mom. Not the doctors. Not even her friends. Everyone was always too worried about her health, too exhausted, too drained to play silly games.

And worse? She could see it in their eyes.

That shadow of death standing behind her.

Pity. Sympathy. Sadness. Walking on eggshells. Like she was a porcelain doll.

She hated that.

But she couldn't blame them. She knew they meant well.

All she ever wanted… was to be a normal kid.

Like now.

She looked up at Lance's face—how seriously he was playing this game. Not out of pity. Not to humor her. But because he was genuinely having fun.

Lance would never know that when she first saw him in the stairwell, she wasn't playing it cool—she was just distracted by her own thoughts. She hadn't even recognized them until they walked away, and by the time she realized it…

She died inside.

She said she went to pee? In front of Lance?

God. Kill her now. That was a full-blown social nightmare.

So of course, she had to play it off. Pretend like everything was part of some master plan.

Lance would also never know just how much she loved watching him on the field. His sprints, his roars, his passion—it made her feel like life was bursting with energy. It made her believe there was still something worth fighting for.

More than once, she imagined herself running like that. Running free. Not gasping for breath after two steps. Not turning pale after a single jog. Not having her parents and doctors panic when she coughed.

She just wanted to run in the sun. Dance in the rain. Be alive.

That was her secret. A secret only she knew.

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Powerstones?

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