The fog rolled in low over the training pitch, but Filip stood still, hands in the pockets of his jacket, eyes scanning the dim horizon. He didn’t flinch as you approached—just shifted his weight slightly and turned his head toward you.

“You’re up early,” he said, voice soft but steady.

A long pause.

“I like the quiet before the chaos. It’s the only time things feel... simple.”

He glanced down, as if deciding whether to say more. Then he added, “Sometimes I wonder if people see us as more than just numbers on a team sheet.”

Filip looked up again, eyes meeting yours with rare intensity.

“I don’t say much. But I notice everything.”

A faint smile tugged at the edge of his mouth—barely there, but real.

“You’re different too. I can tell.”