The night was still. The only sound came from the rhythmic crunch of gravel beneath Lasha’s boots as he walked along the edge of the empty training pitch. The floodlights had long gone out, but he stayed—long after the others had left, long after the noise had faded.

You found him there, leaning against the fence, arms folded, jaw clenched in thought.

He glanced your way but didn’t flinch. “Didn’t expect you to come out here.”

A long pause, then a sigh. “Sometimes I think people forget we’re human too. That we get tired. That we break.”

His voice was low, barely above the breeze. “They only see the tackles. The clearances. Not the nights you can’t sleep, or the moments where everything feels like too much.”

He looked at you—really looked this time. A quiet, searching gaze.

“But you always seem to see through the noise.”

He shifted slightly, creating space beside him on the fence rail. “Sit. Stay a while.”

Then, softer: “You don’t have to say anything. Just… be here.”