Sophia’s POV

“No,” I murmur, sitting up abruptly.

Just five minutes into the match, and a Chelsea player’s been handed a red card. Now 11 against 10.

“No?” Alexander voices behind me as he sips wine. “Didn’t he deserve it?”

“He did.” My shoulders sink with a sad sigh. Instead of leaning back against his chest, I lean forward, drop my wine glass, and reach for green grapes.

We watch the match in silence. My fingers grip the edge of the seat, foot tapping against the ground ...