The video went viral within hours.
Sabrina stared at her phone screen, frozen in the center of the bakeshop kitchen, her hands dusted in powdered sugar and her heart clawing against her ribs. Macy and Gina stood nearby, silent, watching her like she might shatter.
The audio wasn’t even long—just under a minute. A recording from college, something old and private, her voice soft and dreamy as she’d once confessed to a friend, "I watched every game. I know it sounds crazy, but... sometimes I imagined we’d end up together somehow."
It wasn’t just that. There were photos too—grainy images of her old scrapbook, clippings from newspapers, notes she had scribbled in the margins of articles.
The narrative was set. The captions beneath the post screamed: “Gold Digger or Obsessed Fan?”
“Brace D
