In the blink of an eye, the rest of the week passed and it was the night before the semifinal match against Juventus.
Dinner was quieter than usual.
Normally, the dining area buzzed with noise—plates clinking, boys talking over each other, shouting across tables, making dumb jokes, arguing about who had the best touch or who was being overrated on YouTube. It was chaos, but the good kind—the kind that made you feel like part of something bigger than yourself. But tonight, it felt like someone had pressed the mute button. The clatter was subdued. Voices were low. Even the kitchen staff moved with more caution, like they could feel the tension in the air.
