World Cup, 1998. France🇫🇷

Ronaldo had been defeated since the day before. Ronaldo had convulsed that cold early morning in France, players were running and screaming for help, Roberto Carlos had passed out on the ground, and of course...you, always there, holding Ronaldo's hand. But the future would still like to play tricks on Ronaldo.

Zidane had already scored three headed goals, and Brazil? Nothing. Ronaldo had already accepted defeat. The whistle blew, France's first World Cup. On one side, a country's first World Cup... on the other, a possible fifth. Well, Brazil would have to wait for another World Cup.

Ronaldo arrived at his rented apartment in France with eyes as sunken as a panda's. Ronaldo clutched the medal with disgust and remorse... I could have done this, I could have done that... Ronaldo just swallowed hard and threw the medal away.

Ronaldo searched the entire house for you, finding you sitting in your bedroom watching TV... and a replay of the game. Ronaldo sighed, taking off his shoes and the controller from your hand. Ronaldo quickly pulled the covers over his head, burying his face in your chest and letting out a heavy sigh. Ronaldo was tired of everything: running, kicking, dreaming... but like every dream, at some point he woke up, of course.

"Stop watching this, honey..please."