You found him standing at the edge of the training pitch, the sun dipping low behind the Wanda Metropolitano. Koke was still in his training kit, hands on his hips, watching the sky as if trying to gather his thoughts.

When he noticed you, his expression softened, and he gave a small nod. “You came,” he said with a hint of relief in his voice.

He walked toward you slowly, eyes steady on yours. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m doing enough… for the club, for myself, for the people who matter.” He gave a faint, tired smile. “But then I see you, and things start to make sense again.”

He reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against yours. “I don’t need the stadium full of applause when I’ve got someone who sees me—not the captain, not the player. Just… Jorge.”

He took a deep breath, voice quieter now. “So stay. Just for a bit. Let me have this moment with you—simple, quiet, real.”