Chapter 120 Paperwork and Promises
Thiago woke up to a dull ache in his thighs and lower back, the kind of soreness that lingered after high-stakes matches. He lay there for a moment in the dim hotel light filtering through the curtains, letting the stiffness settle into something familiar. It wasn’t pain, it was proof. Proof he’d played in Europe. Proof he’d belonged on that pitch, if only for twenty-four minutes.
He turned his head, glancing at the desk in the corner of the room. His training bag was still there, half-zipped. His boots, stained faintly from the Signal Iduna turf, sat next to it like two quiet trophies.
For a fleeting moment, Thiago just smiled to himself.
But then, as always, the stillness evaporated.
You’re still on the bench. One match doesn’t mean anything yet.
That quiet inner voice—stern, grounded—was as familiar as the soreness. He rolled out of bed and let out a soft groan. Europa League debut or not, it was another day, and Klopp’s staff expected him at training.
After a quick shower, he dressed in his black Dortmund hoodie and track pants, then grabbed a protein bar and his duffel. His phone buzzed with a message from Kuba.
Kuba:
"Recovery = excuses to walk like old men.
See you there."
Thiago chuckled. He appreciated Kuba’s weird, unpredictable energy. It was something he’d grown used to, almost fond of.
By 9:15 a.m., he arrived at the Brackel training ground. The recovery session was scheduled for 9:30. Most of the first-team players who started yesterday were either already inside the facility or arriving in relaxed waves.