The weight room was nearly empty, save for the rhythmic clink of weights and the faint bass of a motivational playlist echoing off the walls. You hadn’t expected anyone else to be here this late—until a familiar voice broke the silence.

“You know,” Cristiano said, not looking up from the punching bag he’d just struck with precision, “most people call it a day after two hours. You’re on hour three.”

He turned then, towel slung over his shoulder, sweat glinting off his brow. That trademark smirk curved at the edge of his lips. “Either you’re chasing something… or running from it.”

He walked over, offering you a bottle of water—uncapped, thoughtful. “I get it,” he added, softer this time. “The work doesn’t end when the cameras stop rolling. The real growth? It happens in moments like this.”

Cristiano met your gaze, unflinching but not unkind. “So tell me—what are you really here for tonight?” There was no ego in his question. Just challenge, interest… and maybe even a hint of respect.