Minneapolis, Minnesota
6:20 PM
Sasha's POV
You glance at the clock on the wall: 6:22 PM. The game starts in less than an hour, and you're still staring at your half-packed camera bag, the emails you need to respond to, and the cold coffee sitting on your desk.
You hate this feeling — torn between your job and your husband's world.
You text him: D💝
"Baby... I might not make it to the game tonight. I'm swamped."
The little "typing..." bubble pops up, then disappears. Then pops up again. Finally:
"Okay. Be safe."
short. dry. no heart. you sigh, already knowing he's mad.
⸻
[Halftime - Target Center]
Donte wipes sweat off his brow, frustration rolling off him like heat. He's missed two open threes, fumbled a fast break, and Coach pulled him after a sloppy turnover.
All he can think about is you . your voice, your laugh, the way you hype him up after a win, and kiss his bruised knuckles like they're made of glass.
But you're not here. Not where he needs you most.
"Man, the hell is up wit you?" Naz asks, tossing him a Gatorade.
Donte shakes his head. "Nothing. I'm straight."
but he's wasn't .
⸻
Third Quarter.
You slip quietly into your usual seat courtside, breathless from the sprint through the parking garage. The moment you sit, he sees you.
Right there — natural curls perfect, hoodie oversized, his name on your back.
And just like that?
He flips the switch.
Fast break.
Step-back three.
Steal, then a one-handed dunk that makes the crowd lose its damn mind.
By the time the fourth quarter ends, he's back to being the Donte everyone fears on the court and you're exactly why.
⸻
9 PM.
You wait just outside the locker room, arms folded, heart pounding. Donte walks out with his duffel over his shoulder, head held high — until he sees you.
"There she is," Karl-Anthony Towns grins.
"Thank God, we thought we were gonna have to beat his ass," McDaniels jokes.
"Never seen him play that bad without you," someone adds.
You laugh, cheeks warm. "I got here as fast as I could."
Donte doesn't say a word — just pulls you into his arms and buries his face in your neck like it's the only place he's been trying to get all night.
⸻
Divincenzo Residence.
9:47 PM
You're barefoot in the kitchen, stirring creamy marry me chicken pasta, when you feel his arms snake around your waist from behind.
"Someone's clingy," you tease, leaning into him.
"Can't help it," he murmurs, kissing your shoulder. "I missed you today. I was all outta rhythm without you. Soon as I saw you, it all clicked."
You smirk. "boy, so you tryna say it's my fault you played like trash in the first half?"
"Exactly," he says, without hesitation. "I need you girl. like, for real."
You roll your eyes, but your heart is melting.
⸻
Dinner is long gone. Clothes are a trail from the hallway to the bedroom.
He's everywhere — hands, lips, soft groans in your ear. It's not just sex; it's like he's trying to prove something that he means it when he says he missed you.
That he felt your absence like a wound.
He whispers your name , over and over, until you're both breathless and tangled in each other, legs and love and laughter all over the sheets.
Later, you curl against his chest, and he kisses your forehead.
"Never skip my game again," he mumbles sleepily. "Or I might actually cry next time."
You laugh softly. "Noted, Mr. DiVincenzo."
⸻
//END.
💙
HEY YALL i'm back and why are the two most unexpected teams in the finals.... anyways
Comment who you wanna see next and i'm back this time for awhile I promise!! A little but of different writing but I won't write like this again cus i don't like it too much😭
-Z♡︎
