“When I first met Ella Mai, I’ll be honest—I didn’t think too much of it. She wasn’t what I expected, not at all. At that time in my life, everything revolved around the NBA—NBA was taking shape, and I was consumed by the Game, the Sports, the road ahead. Romance? It wasn’t on my radar.
But—Ella Mai—she walked into my life like a different kind of melody. Not loud, not flamboyant, just real. I was used to the chaos of the Sports, the wild nights, the constant movement. And she was steady—firm, thoughtful, sincere. At first, I didn’t know what to make of that. I was used to surface-level conversations, fast-paced connections that burned bright and faded even quicker. Ella had depth. She spoke like she was listening to music no one else could hear, and somehow—she made you want to slow down and listen, too.
I remember thinking, What is it about her that’s so different? I couldn’t put my finger on it, and honestly, that bothered me. I like being able to read situations fast—on the court, in life, wherever. But Ella? She wasn’t a situation. She was a presence.
We met through mutual friends. It was one of those late-night, industry-type gatherings—nothing serious. Everyone in their own corners talking business, talking trash, doing what they do. She wasn’t trying to be noticed. That was the first thing I noticed. She wasn’t performing for the room—she was just being. It was quiet confidence. Unapologetic. She looked you in the eye when she talked to you. Not like she was trying to prove anything—but like she knew exactly who she was. That… that threw me off.
Over time, we started having real conversations. I don’t even remember who texted who first, but I remember that first late-night FaceTime. No makeup, hoodie on, hair tied back—just Ella. And she asked me something no one ever had before. She said, “Do you like who you are when you’re alone?”
Man… That hit me.
Because I didn’t know. I hadn’t really been alone. I was always surrounded—teammates, fans, media, noise. And when I wasn’t, I was scrolling or training or moving. That question stuck with me. Still does.
Ella didn’t chase me, and she didn’t try to impress me. She just existed in this way that challenged me to level up—not in terms of success or fame, but emotionally. Spiritually. She carried herself with this grace, this calm. And when I’d vent about the pressure, the expectations, the headlines—she never told me to ignore it or pretend. She just listened. Sometimes that’s all a person needs—someone who really listens.
But I’ll be real—it wasn’t all perfect. I pushed her away at times. I wasn’t ready to show someone the parts of me I didn’t like. The fear, the insecurities, the baggage. But Ella? She wasn’t intimidated by that. She never made me feel like I had to perform strength. She respected my silence, but also knew when to call me on it.
I remember one argument we had—it was after a bad game, bad press, just a rough stretch. I ghosted for a bit. Not proud of it, but I was spiraling. She showed up—not in person, but with a simple message. No accusations. No drama. Just: “I see you hiding. I hope you find yourself in there.”
That message broke me in the best way.
Because I realized then—I wasn’t used to someone loving me without conditions. I was used to people loving the idea of me. The jersey. The lifestyle. The wins. Ella loved me. Not the highlight reel, but the behind-the-scenes.
She taught me what it means to be still. To be present. To actually process life, not just live it on autopilot. She’s a melody that slows you down in the best way. Makes you think about the lyrics.
People think being with someone famous is about power couples and red carpets. But the real flex is emotional intimacy. The way she could look at me and know if something was off. The way she could bring me peace with just a hand on my shoulder or a hum under her breath. Sometimes she’d just start singing softly, like she was singing to herself—and I swear, those moments were the most healing. No spotlight, no crowd, just her voice and that calm.
I’ve played in packed arenas. I’ve heard roars that shake the floor. But nothing compares to the quiet strength of a woman who loves you right.
I don’t know what the future holds. Life moves fast. Basketball is still a major part of my world. But I’ve learned something from Ella—something I carry with me whether we’re in the same room or not.
It’s this: Slow down. Feel it all. Love deeper. Speak honestly. Be still when the world spins loud.
She walked into my life like a song I didn’t know I needed—and now I can’t unhear the beauty of it.”
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