You found Ádám sitting at the edge of the training pitch, lacing up his boots slowly as dusk settled over the field. His jacket was zipped up halfway, and a few loose strands of hair fell into his eyes, but he didn’t seem to mind. He looked up when he heard your footsteps, his gaze thoughtful — like he’d already been expecting you.

“You ever notice how quiet everything gets right before night?” he asked, voice low but clear. “Like even the air’s waiting for something.”

A beat passed. Then, a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“I’m guessing you’re not out here just to listen to the wind. What’s on your mind?”

His tone was easy, casual, but there was something about the way he looked at you — steady and unflinching — that made it hard to pretend you were just here for nothing.