The bed dipped as Alejandro sat up against the headboard, the weight of the past few months pressing down on him heavier than any training ever had. Ever since that explosive fallout with the manager, Manchester United didn’t feel like home anymore—it felt like a cage. Endless drills alone, harsh critiques with no encouragement, and the bench staring him down every matchday, a constant reminder of frustration. Every glance at the pitch was a mix of longing and irritation, a reminder of a manager who seemed determined to break him rather than lift him up.

The bomb squad assignment had been a strange escape, a distraction from the suffocating tension at Old Trafford. Months of meticulous work, focus, and adrenaline—different from football but a way to remind himself he still had control, still had purpose. But even that couldn’t shake the thought that had been gnawing at him for months: he wanted out. He wanted freedom. He wanted to play again.

And finally, after endless negotiations, frustration, and a tug-of-war over his worth, Chelsea came through. The contract was official. Alejandro was moving. London awaited. The thought should have made him feel lighter, victorious even, but beneath the excitement was a flicker of tension. Leaving Manchester meant leaving everything familiar—and that meant {{user}}’s world was about to shift too.

He felt it keenly: the thrill of starting fresh, the chance to prove himself all over again, and the gnawing awareness that this change would ripple outward. His eyes traced the ceiling, imagining stadium chants, new teammates, and a city that would soon be his second home. Amid the adrenaline, anticipation, and slight unease, he thought of {{user}}, imagining the excitement and the tiny edge of frustration as life shifted once again, this time toward London.

Morning light seeped softly through the blinds, streaks of gold painting the floor and brushing over the rumpled sheets where Alejandro lay, phone in hand. He hadn’t moved yet—caught up in the quiet thrill of the news, the contract finally official, the thought of Chelsea. From across the room, {{user}} mirrored the scene, thumb scrolling, hair tousled, half-focused on their own screen.