Benched My Husband During the World Cup Finals

I heard another round of applause from the screening room as I placed the thermal bag next to my feet while slowly opening the door. Jodie Lenford's voice could be heard coming through the creak of the door. "Look at how detailed the sewing is on the ankle brace on your sleeve, Mr. Hayes. Your wife must love you a lot to still be keeping such an old item of yours."

Tristan gave a low laugh as his fingers brushed across the ankle brace. "She used to understand soccer and me, but not anymore. She doesn't even bother to watch any soccer game, even if there's an offside."

Someone started saying, "You need to thank Miss Lenford tonight for bringing you back to your youthful days, Mr. Hayes."

Jodie let out a soft cough. "Stop it. I just didn't want Mr. Hayes to feel lonely watching the game alone. It'd be better if Mrs. Hayes was here with you."

Tristan was silent for a second before replying nonchalantly, "She doesn't like staying up through the night. It's better for everyone if she stays home."

Better for everyone?

I stood outside the door with my head lowered, staring at the thermal bag containing the hot soup I had made for him.

Eight years ago, during the World Cup Finals, Tristan suffered from gastritis, but he insisted on accompanying me until 5 AM. I had removed the old ankle brace from my college team and sewn it to the sleeve of his jersey. I told him that someone would always be watching over him every time he stayed up late to watch the game.

The side of the ankle brace was frayed, and the colors did not match. Tristan teased me about being clumsy with my sewing, but he still wore the jersey to meet all of his friends. However, now, the ankle brace was pressed onto Jodie's shoulder.

Someone suddenly opened the door from inside, and Jodie bumped into me with half a bucket of popcorn in her hand. The smile on her face froze. "What are you doing here, Mrs. Hayes?"

The screening room turned silent. Tristan was seated in the middle, the remote in his hand, and his legs crossed. When his gaze fell onto the thermal bag by my feet, he frowned slightly. "What are you doing here so late at night?"

I bent over to pick up the bag. "The housekeeper told me you hadn't had dinner yet, so I decided to drop by and bring it to you."

Jodie quickly took the jersey off, clenching the corner of it. "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Hayes. I had no idea the jersey was a gift from you. I sneezed because the air conditioning here was too cold, and Mr. Hayes was concerned for my well-being as his subordinate… I'll return it to you after washing it."

Tristan held her wrist down and said softly, "Put it back on. It's cold in here."

I froze in the middle of opening the thermal bag.

Tristan's colleagues exchanged glances, and one of them tried to smooth things over. "Mr. Hayes is lucky to have such a considerate wife."

All Tristan did was look at me as if he had not heard what his colleague said. "Leave the soup here. The driver is waiting downstairs to take you home."

I glanced at the jersey sleeve, where the ankle brace was pinned with Jodie's brooch through the old threads, leaving a small hole. I reached for the jersey. "I'll take this back to have it washed."

Jodie reacted by taking a step back, becoming teary-eyed. "Did I do something wrong again, Mrs. Hayes? All I did was glance at the jersey several times because I thought it was a meaningful piece of clothing."

Tristan stood up to shield her behind him. "It's just an old jersey, Dahlia. Don't make a scene at the office."

I looked up at him. "Just an old jersey?"

The look in his eyes darkened, but his tone remained composed. "Haven't you always hated it when someone kills the mood at an event? It's the finals tonight, and everyone is here."

Jodie spoke up in a small voice, "I should return the jersey to Mrs. Hayes. I know I'm not worthy of something as precious as this."

Tristan turned to look at her. "No one is saying you're not worthy."

That was when excited shouts came from the screening room as the players started appearing on the screen to start the match. I placed the soup on the table, and the glass bowl clinked softly against it. "Enjoy the game, everyone."

Tristan seemed taken aback. "Are you leaving just like that?"

I zipped my jacket up tightly without looking at him. "What else did you expect? Are you waiting for me to plan who gets benched?"

Jodie turned pale.

Tristan's fingers tapped on the remote, and his voice lowered slightly, "Don't make sarcastic remarks with soccer terms, Dahlia. Wait for me at home."

I nodded and turned to leave. I heard Jodie suddenly asking softly behind me, "Is Mrs. Hayes mad at me, Mr. Hayes?"

Tristan was silent for a few seconds before replying, "She'll be fine after a night."

Before the elevator doors closed in front of me, I saw Tristan return to his seat. The jersey was still hanging around Jodie's shoulders, and the ankle brace on the sleeve was still pinned with her brooch.