The stadium buzzed with energy as the Real Madrid anthem played. The crowd stood, a sea of white and gold, as the players lined up on the pitch. Jude shifted on his feet, scanning the stands until his eyes found you in the front row.

You were holding your one-year-old daughter, her tiny hands clutching the edge of your shirt. When your gaze met his, you beamed, your free hand pointing towards him.

“Look, baby! It’s Daddy!” you said softly, bouncing her slightly.

Your daughter’s face lit up with excitement, her chubby fingers pointing back at Jude as she babbled a string of sounds resembling “Da-da.”

Jude’s grin stretched wide, his heart melting at the sight of his family. He raised his hand in a small wave, his eyes locked on you both. As the anthem ended and the players moved into position, he mouthed, “I’ll see you after the match, yeah?”

Still smiling, you nodded, mouthing back, “Good luck.”

With one last glance at the two of you, Jude turned his focus to the field, determination etched across his face.