"Ahhh, Lance, I love you! Please marry me!"
A scream ripped through the crowd like thunder from a clear sky, cutting off all the other cheers. The entire back entrance fell silent for a moment.
Every pair of eyes turned toward Lance.
But Lance wasn't flustered. Wasn't shy. He looked straight in the direction of the voice and replied smoothly, "Sorry, too many requests. Please take a number and wait in line."
Laughter broke out instantly. The entire crowd lightened up.
"Rookie, are you okay? Are you hurt?"
"You didn't leave with Patrick today—was it because of extra medical checks?"
"Are you going to the hospital tomorrow for an MRI?"
Concern poured in, one question after another. The crowd quieted down, all eyes locked on Lance, their worry impossible to hide.
Lance chuckled softly. "You all know players aren't supposed to discuss injuries in public , right?"
"But I'm good. Everything's good. I went through some extra tests and got positive feedback. So, nothing to worry about."
You could hear the collective sigh of relief echoing through the air, and it was so loud that everyone laughed again without meaning to.
The team had taken extra care with him. After the game, they ran a thorough post-game check to ensure their captain was in the clear.
After all, the playoffs were drawing near. With the games growing more intense, injury risk was climbing. The team had to be cautious.
The checkup took time—but that wasn't why Mahomes had left earlier.
Normally, Mahomes would've waited for Lance. But this week was different—Brittany was in Kansas City.
Last year and this year, Brittany didn't stay long in the city. She, like Mahomes, wanted him focused on training. So she'd only come for short visits, just to keep his spirits up and stop the grind from wearing him down.
This week was special—she and Mahomes had an anniversary to celebrate. Today, in fact.
Of course, it landed on game day.
Still, what better way to celebrate than with an epic win? Mahomes raced home to be with her. And Lance, well—he knew better than to third-wheel.
In the crowd, Karen let out a long breath. Even though she'd been worried sick, she didn't forget to pat Felix on the shoulder.
"See? I told you he'd be fine."
Felix nodded hard, the tension in his chest finally releasing. He calmed down, waiting patiently now.
Lance, despite the fatigue of a grueling game—and overtime—still had the energy to give back to the fans.
He looked them in the eyes, really listened, responded sincerely. Handshakes, autographs, photos, hugs—he granted every wish.
Feeling his honesty up close, even the fans settled down. No chaos. No shouting. Just a peaceful, respectful line.
Jones and Fowler were stunned. They'd never seen anything like it. These two had just been thrown into their new roles as bodyguards… only to immediately become unemployed.
"Hey, Felix, great game!"
Lance had already spotted them without Karen saying a word. He walked straight over and shared a high five with Felix.
Felix beamed with joy.
Lance noticed right away that Felix's lips were pale.
"God, you must be frozen."
Without a word, Lance peeled off his scarf, hat, and gloves, wrapping them all around Felix like a human bundle.
Felix chuckled weakly. "What are you doing, building a snowman?"
Lance spread his arms. "My technique's a little rough, but hey—at least it's something."
"Haha." Felix finally let out a laugh.
Karen stared at Lance, full of gratitude. She wanted to say something but couldn't find the words—just stood there, overwhelmed and touched.
"I knew it. We're going to fight to the end. We won't lose that easy." Felix was fired up, hands flying, eyes shining. "Those last two touchdowns were insane!"
Lance gave Karen a knowing look, then turned back to Felix. "Stop hyping me up. My ego's about to break the sky."
Laughter rippled through the crowd.
Then Felix carefully pulled out a small paper bag from under his coat. He looked a bit embarrassed, holding it out to Lance. "It's just a little something—not a gift, more like a doodle we made."
"We?" Lance took the bag, not peeking inside, and raised his eyebrows with curiosity.
Felix shrugged. "Yeah. Some friends I met at the hospital." His expression dimmed slightly.
That meant other chemo patients, didn't it?
The paper bag suddenly felt ten times heavier in Lance's hands.
Felix took a deep breath, then smiled. "We're all Chiefs fans—well, 90% of us. We'd gather to watch away games together. Tomorrow, we'll be back in chemo, so today's win gives us a lot to talk about. That game'll fuel us for three or four hours, easy."
"Lance, chemo is long and awful. The whole room feels dead, like death's already arrived. But because of the Chiefs, we found something to talk about. Those three or four hours don't feel so bad anymore."
"We even convinced the hospital to let us put up some Chiefs artwork in the treatment room. That doodle in the bag… we made it together."
Lance's eyes lit up. "Whoa. That makes this worth a fortune. So I'm accepting it on behalf of the whole team?"
Felix laughed nervously, scratching his head.
Lance knelt down to Felix's level and looked him in the eyes. "We'll treasure it. Really. We need your courage. We're just fighting guys on the field. You're fighting death itself. You're the real role models. We need your spirit."
Felix was speechless, swept up in emotion.
Karen touched his shoulder. "Felix. Don't forget."
Felix blinked, then snapped back to focus. "Right. The mission."
"Lance, I have a friend, Annie. Her condition's really, really bad. I was wondering… could you visit her tomorrow at the hospital?"
"It doesn't have to be long—ten minutes. No, five minutes. Three. Just three minutes. That's her only wish."
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