The roar started long before kickoff.
Allianz Parque was a boiling pot of green and white, every seat filled, every hand waving a flag or holding a scarf or beating against a drum. The stands pulsed with energy, a living, breathing beast of noise and passion. The city had turned its eyes inward—São Paulo's heart thudding against its ribs as Palmeiras and Corinthians prepared to write the last chapter of the Campeonato Paulista.
In the tunnel, Thiago stood in line, the weight of the badge on his chest pressing differently tonight. Not heavier. Just… more real. His fingers flexed at his sides, the grip of his gloves tight against his palms. The air smelled of deep heat spray and nervous sweat, the sharp tang of adrenaline already humming beneath his skin. His eyes stared forward, unblinking, watching the referee check his watch, the linesmen adjust their flags.
No more distractions.
No more what-ifs.
No more Camila.
Just this.
