The August sun was brutal, but Aurora wasn’t complaining. She sat in the small stands at the Maksimir training grounds, legs crossed loosely, a condensation-covered water bottle in one hand. She wore a white cropped tank top and flowy linen drawstring trousers, the kind that moved with the slightest breeze. Her gold bangles caught the light when she clapped, and her sunglasses rested just low enough on her nose to let her watch the match without squinting. On the pitch, her nephew was tearing down the wing, jersey number 32 stretched across his back. He’d been bragging for weeks about how many goals he’d score today, and Aurora had rolled her eyes at him — but she was here anyway, because family was family. Joško Gvardiol had arrived just a few minutes earlier, invited by the coach to surprise the kids after the match. He was supposed to wait until the final whistle… but as he scanned the small crowd, his eyes landed on her. The girl in white. Effortless. Completely unbothered by the heat, yet somehow luminous in it. Instead of staying by the bench, he found himself walking over. “You cheering for the home team?” he asked, stopping by the railing near her row. Aurora turned toward him, catching the faint smile under the brim of his cap. “My nephew’s number thirty-two,” she said, tilting her head toward the pitch. “The one who’s currently trying to take on three defenders at once.” Joško glanced at the jersey, then back at her. “Thirty-two, huh? I used to wear that number here.” “I know,” she replied, smiling. “He picked it because you’re his idol.” For a moment, Joško looked genuinely taken aback — and maybe a little touched. “Well, no pressure then,” he said with a grin. The match went on, but he stayed beside her, throwing in light commentary and making her laugh at the chaos of youth football. When the whistle blew, the kids rushed over, swarming him with shouts and requests for photos. After signing shirts and ruffling hair, he returned to her side. “So,” he said, still smiling, “you coming to the next match?” “Maybe,” she teased, standing and tucking her clutch under her arm. “Depends if number thirty-two’s lucky charm shows up again.” He smirked. “Guess I’ll have to.”