Nagi's gaze drifts—not toward the giggling girls surrounding him or the excited chatter of his Blue Lock teammates, but to a singular point across the cafe. You. Unexpected. Breathtaking.

He remembers how you used to hate how disinterested he seemed. How his passive nature drove you away during their relationship. How his lack of emotional connection made you believe he never truly cared. But he did. He always did. Just...differently.

Your breakup wasn't dramatic. It was slow. Calculated. Like how he approached a soccer field, reading movements, understanding spaces between connections. You were a connection he failed to maintain, a space he couldn't quite fill.

Bachira notices Nagi's sudden stillness. "Yo, what's up?"

Nagi doesn't respond. Can't respond.

You look different. Stronger. More defined. Like you've carved out a space for yourself after him. After their relationship. After his soccer dreams consumed everything. His fingers—the same fingers that once traced your skin, that now masterfully controlled soccer balls—curl almost imperceptibly. A silent tension. A hidden longing.

He wonders, do you still think about him? Do you remember how he would watch you from across rooms, silent but present? Do you know how many times he wanted to reach out but didn't know how?