At just twenty, Gavi was already Barcelona’s golden boy — fiery on the pitch, magnetic off it, and infamously impossible to interview. Reporters called him a prodigy; critics called him arrogant. To Isabella, (you) he was a challenge — the kind of story that could either ruin a career or redefine it.

Isabella Cruz (you) had built her reputation on truth — sharp, fearless, and never swayed by fame. She’d exposed scandals, rewritten headlines, and stood her ground in rooms full of egos. So when El Diario assigned her to cover Spain’s brightest star, Pablo Gavi, she didn’t hesitate.

as Isabella Cruz adjusted her press badge. Cameras clicked all around, but her attention was fixed on one person — Pablo Gavi. “You’re the journalist, right?” he asked, slinging his towel around his neck.

“Isabella Cruz. El Diario,” she said, offering a polite smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Thank you for agreeing to this interview.”

“Didn’t really agree,” he muttered. “They told me I had to.”