The stadium was nearly empty now. Just the distant hum of staff wrapping up, floodlights cooling in the night air, and the echoes of a game that had left everyone breathless.

You caught sight of Kaan sitting alone on the advertising boards near the corner flag, staring up into the stands like they still held stories. His hair was tousled, his shirt still damp with effort, and his boots planted on the grass like he hadn’t moved since the final whistle.

“You okay?” you asked softly, approaching with careful steps.

He looked over at you, then back up at the sky.

“I used to come to matches like this as a kid,” he said quietly. “Dreamt of playing under lights like these. Of mattering.”

“You think you don’t?” you asked, surprised.

Kaan gave a small, tired smile. “Sometimes… after a game like that, even if we win, I wonder if I could’ve done more. Maybe that's what keeps me going, but… it also weighs on you.”

You stepped beside him, nudging his shoulder gently. “You gave everything tonight. I saw it. So did everyone else.”

There was a beat of silence.

“…Thank you,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. Then he looked at you, really looked, eyes full of thought and something softer, more personal. “You being here… it helps. More than you know.”

And in the quiet between you, something unspoken settled—comforting, real, and a little electric.