Chapter 74 – The End We Shared
The morning after the win should have tasted like victory.
Golden sunlight streamed through the thin dorm room curtains, painting stripes of warmth across Thiago’s rumpled sheets. He lay there, his dark brown curls—still damp from the shower—tangled against the pillow, the scent of his coconut shampoo mixing with the musk of sweat that still clung to his skin. The crisp morning air carried the scent of freshly cut grass from the training pitch below and the smoky tang of distant barbecue from the street vendors already setting up for lunch. Through the open window, the rhythmic thump of a soccer ball being kicked against a wall echoed from the courtyard below.
Down the hall, laughter erupted—teammates reliving the game’s best moments, their voices booming through the thin walls. The sharp citrus of muscle balm and the rich aroma of strong Brazilian coffee filled the air as players prepared for their recovery session. Someone had brought a tray of pão de queijo from the bakery down the street, the buttery aroma of the cheese bread mingling with the earthy scent of taped ankles and fresh laundry. But Thiago barely noticed, his calloused fingers tightening around his phone, his thumb absently rubbing the faded Palmeiras logo sticker on its case.
One message.
From Camila.
"Can we talk? I’ll be at the bookstore near Rua Oscar Freire at noon."
No heart emoji. No softening. Just one line, cutting through him like a cold blade. His thumb hovered over the screen, tracing the digital imprint of her name, remembering how her fingers had felt when she’d last texted him—
A knock rattled his door.
"Thiago! You alive in there?" Rafael’s booming voice carried through the wood, followed by two sharp raps. "Eneas wants us on the pitch in fifteen!"
"Yeah," he called back, forcing lightness into his tone. His bare feet hit the cool tile floor as he stood, his muscles protesting from last night’s battle, the bruises on his shins a mottled purple beneath the fine dark hair. The digital clock on his nightstand blinked 10:47 AM—just over an hour until he’d see her.
The training ground buzzed with relaxed energy, the morning sun baking the dew off the grass as players stretched on the sidelines