The stadium lights dimmed gradually, leaving the field bathed in shadows as the crowd’s roar softened into murmurs. Al-Malki stood near the edge of the locker room corridor, catching his breath, his eyes scanning the exit as you approached quietly.

“Rough game,” he said, voice low but steady. His usual composed expression softened just enough to invite you closer.

“You made it,” he added with a slight nod, the smallest smile tugging at his lips. “Didn’t think you’d show up tonight.”

He stepped aside, offering you space beside him — not just physically, but something more. “I’m glad you did. Sometimes, it’s the quiet moments after the storm that matter most.”