Karen didn't know how to describe what she was feeling—
Joy, hope, frustration, anxiety, helplessness… a tangle of emotions so complex and contradictory that no words could capture them.
The Kansas City Chiefs had won, clinching a playoff spot early. That was worth celebrating. Their tenacity and resilience gave Felix hope—hope that helped him continue fighting his illness. That too was a blessing.
But Karen couldn't stop worrying about Felix's body.
Round after round of chemotherapy had ravaged him, trying to kill the cancer while simultaneously breaking down his body. His immune system had collapsed.
In this kind of weather, spending over four hours at Arrowhead cheering for the team had already drained him. And now, even after the game had ended, he was still outside in the freezing wind for two more hours. Karen herself could barely endure it—how could Felix, whose body was already so weak?
Karen worried. Truly and deeply.
She had tried to persuade him to leave, but Felix wouldn't budge.
And Karen… couldn't bring herself to force him.
She knew how brutal chemotherapy was. The suffering had gone far beyond anything they'd imagined. That first round had been like a living nightmare. They'd thought the second would be easier—it wasn't.
It was worse. Even more agonizing.
But it was Lance and the Kansas City Chiefs who kept Felix going. They gave him courage. They gave him belief. They were the reason Felix hadn't given in, hadn't surrendered.
And tonight, Felix had a mission. He stayed because it meant something.
Karen knew she shouldn't stop him—but the worry still gnawed at her.
On one hand, she knew Felix didn't have much time left. She should grant every wish she could. Let his eighteenth year be remembered with meaning.
On the other hand, she couldn't let go. She wanted him to survive—to beat the cancer, go to college, get a job, and argue with her every Thanksgiving and Christmas about when to come home.
Was she just being greedy?
She looked at Felix. He was trying to push his wheelchair through the crowd, leaning forward as he strained. But his hands were stiff, fingers barely moving. After a few awkward tries, he hadn't moved at all.
Felix stubbornly refused to ask for help. He was fighting his wheelchair alone—like a knight battling a dragon.
Karen took a deep breath, wiped the tears gathering in her eyes, steadied herself, and gently patted Felix on the shoulder.
She took the handles and pushed him forward a few steps, stretching her neck as well to look through the crowd for Lance.
Felix glanced up at his mother. "…Mom. I'm sorry."
Karen froze slightly, her hands and shoulders stiffening. Her eyes welled up again.
Then, both mother and son looked up, scanning the crowd. Players were trickling out one by one—
Since it was a home game, they didn't need to wait for the team bus. They could leave at their own pace and drive home themselves. So they exited in small clusters.
And for the fans, this meant something big—if they waited patiently behind the stadium, they had a 99% chance of seeing their favorite players, maybe even up close.
It was none other than Kelce himself. The towering tight end was in a great mood and immediately spotted Felix in his wheelchair.
Felix smiled back. "Great game. God, those two catches in overtime? My palms were sweating in the stands."
Kelce raised his hand and whispered, "Shh, it's a secret—I was sweating too."
The crowd around them burst out laughing.
A voice called out from behind, "Travis, can I get an autograph?"
Kelce responded warmly, "Of course. Where would you like me to sign?"
Felix quickly spoke before Kelce could walk off. "Travis, where's Lance?"
Kelce replied, "He's still inside. The team's giving him a full checkup. But he's fine—he's fine, really. Nothing to worry about. We're just being careful, right?"
That one sentence sent a ripple through the fans—many began cursing Mosley on the spot, and soon even the Ravens as a whole were catching heat.
More players emerged, but there was still no sign of Lance. When Mahomes finally showed up, Felix stretched his neck, scanning behind him… still no Lance. That's when the real worry began to set in.
Could Lance really have a concussion?
Mahomes didn't stay long. He left in a hurry before Felix could even ask anything. Felix watched his back disappear with a heart full of questions, anxiety growing as he stared at the door.
Karen had no idea how to comfort him. Because truthfully… she was beginning to worry too. Thoughts spiraled through her mind, multiplying like wildfire.
She couldn't focus. Her mind was everywhere.
The shout rang like thunder.
All eyes turned at once. In the pale yellow light, a tall and graceful figure slowly came into view.
Who else could it be but Lance?
In that moment, the tiny patch of space by the stadium's back gate erupted like a volcano—cheers billowed like mushroom clouds.
In his car, Mahomes was just starting the engine. He glanced up and silently thanked fate that he left early. Otherwise, he would've been trapped.
Jones and Fowler, still in the crowd, weren't so lucky. They were instantly swallowed by the wave of fans. Before they even realized what was happening, they had been drafted into crowd-control duty—human shields making sure Lance didn't get mobbed—
Wait a minute, something felt off.
Before joining the Chiefs, Fowler had heard about Lance's insane popularity in Kansas City. But after spending two-thirds of the season here, he still couldn't help but think:
Those rumors didn't even scratch the surface.
Just moments ago, fans had been calling out for Jones and Fowler.
Now? The spotlight was entirely on Lance. Everyone else might as well have been background characters.
No comparison. None at all.
Still, Jones and Fowler didn't complain. They instinctively shifted into crowd-control mode. Their eyes met mid-chaos—and they both gave a resigned smile. A little helpless. A little amused.
So… does this count as a once-in-a-lifetime experience?
"Ahhhh! Lance, I love you! Please marry me!"
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