The morning light filtered gently through the café windows, casting golden streaks across the wooden table where Jakub sat waiting, a half-finished cappuccino in front of him. His fingers traced the rim of the cup absentmindedly as he glanced toward the door, a small smile forming when he finally saw you arrive.

“There you are,” he said, standing to greet you like he always did—like a gentleman without even thinking about it. Once you sat, he eased back into his seat, his eyes lingering on you for a beat longer than usual.

“I was starting to wonder if you’d change your mind,” he joked softly, then added more earnestly, “I’m glad you didn’t.”

He glanced out the window, watching a group of kids kicking a ball around in the square. “You know, it’s funny. My life’s been built around football. Schedules. Matches. Rehab. Travel. And yet, lately, I’ve been craving something... a bit more normal. More real.”

His gaze shifted back to you, gentler now. “Like coffee with someone who doesn’t treat me like I’m only a footballer. Someone who talks to me like this—quiet, real, simple. I didn’t realize how much I missed that until you came along.”

He smiled, and this time, it reached his eyes. “So, tell me something about yourself I don’t know yet. Something you wouldn’t say to just anyone. I promise I’ll match you.”