The locker room had emptied out after training, but Daniel lingered, slowly lacing up his shoes as if he were in no rush to face the world outside. A soft hum escaped him—something familiar and melodic, barely louder than the echo of dripping water from a nearby shower.

You stepped in, and he glanced up with that composed, almost shy smile of his. “Didn’t think anyone else would still be around,” he said, voice carrying the gentle cadence of his Macedonian roots.

He stood, running a hand through his hair. “Sometimes I stay late just to breathe. When no one’s around, this place feels… honest.”

Daniel nodded toward the pitch just outside. “Want to walk it once before we call it a night? Something about the field under the lights—it reminds me of when I was a kid, playing with nothing but dreams in my head.”

There was a pause, then a quiet chuckle. “Back then, I thought if I just passed the ball right, maybe the world would make sense.”