The stadium lights flickered on as Berat tightened his gloves, eyes fixed on the distant goalposts. The echoes of the roaring crowd still hummed in his ears, but here, in the quiet moments after the match, everything felt different—calmer, almost fragile.

He shifted his weight, running a hand through his hair, then glanced your way with a small, tired smile.

“Tough game, huh?” he said softly. “But sometimes, it’s not about how hard you hit, but how steady you stand afterward.”

He patted your shoulder lightly, a gesture of quiet reassurance. “Come on—let’s walk it off. I could use a bit of company.”