The next day, the atmosphere in Milan's locker room was noticeably strange.
Outwardly, everything still looked harmonious — but the fun was gone.
No one was teasing Gattuso.
No one was laughing and horsing around.
Šuker had gone unnaturally quiet.
He wasn't stirring up any trouble either.
He arrived at the training base on time, trained seriously, didn't leave early, didn't skip sessions, didn't start fights, and no longer challenged Ambrosini.
But that's exactly what made it all so eerily unnatural.
It was as if there was now an invisible wall between Šuker and Milan — one that was slowly pushing them further apart.
His behavior wasn't right.
At a club that valued its "family culture" so deeply, Šuker now looked like just another employee.
You pay me, I do the job.I won't cause trouble — after all, you're the boss.
And that, right there, was the problem.
It meant Šuker was now emotionally detaching himself from Milan.
Maldini had originally thought this was just a minor fallout — a small locker room conflict. But things were clearly worse than expected.
He realized he had to act fast.
Before doing anything, Maldini spoke with Kaká to understand the full context and every detail of what had happened.
Eventually, he found the root of the problem.
"You Eastern Europeans!"
That was it. That sentence was the key.
The moment Maldini heard it, he almost slapped Ambrosini himself.
How deeply hurtful that was.
Especially for someone like Šuker.
Maldini had worked hard to help integrate Šuker into the Milan identity — to make Šuker feel accepted and part of the club's culture. They had made huge efforts in that regard.
But that one careless sentence destroyed everything.
It drew a clear line between Šuker and Milan. It negated all his contributions.
Still, Maldini found a small comfort in one thing:
Šuker was angry — angry enough to be hurt.
And that meant he still cared about Milan.
If he didn't care, he wouldn't have reacted so strongly.
Now that he understood the issue, Maldini was ready to act.
After training, Šuker left early — not irregularly, but with the kind of precise, detached timing you'd expect from a regular employee clocking out.
That evening, Maldini went home, pulled out a bottle of his most treasured wine, and drove to Šuker's villa.
Ding dong.
Šuker opened the door shortly after the bell rang.
"Boss?" Šuker looked at Maldini with surprise.
Maldini stood at the door, smiling awkwardly and holding up the bottle of wine:
"I heard your pizza is pretty good."
Šuker blinked, staring at him.
Maldini's smile was a little forced.
Šuker understood why he had come.
Then he gave a faint smile:
"You sure you can handle Eastern European pizza?"
He cracked a joke about the very topic that caused the rift.
Maldini's eyes lit up — there was hope.
"Well, I won't know until I try!"
Šuker shrugged and opened the door:
"Hope you won't regret it!"
At the dinner table, Maldini wore a smile, but his mouth twitched wildly.
He held a glass of wine in one hand, a fork in the other — but he just couldn't bring himself to take a bite.
On the table was a pizza.
Or rather, a greasy, pungent, pizza-shaped monstrosity.
What the hell is this thing!?
Maldini's mouth twitched again.
Šuker pushed the durian pizza toward him with a sly grin:
"Boss, aren't you going to eat? This is Eastern European pizza~!"
Seeing Maldini's horrified expression, Šuker was clearly enjoying himself.
Should've made Ambrosini eat a slice.
"Let's talk first," Maldini said seriously.
"After one bite," Šuker insisted.
Maldini swallowed nervously, his hand trembling as he reached for a slice. He shut his eyes and braced himself.
But — he grabbed at nothing.
Clap!
Šuker quickly pulled the durian pizza away and replaced it with a meat sauce pizza.
Seeing a normal-looking pizza, Maldini finally breathed a sigh of relief.
Šuker chuckled:
"Now we can talk."
Maldini took a bite of the new pizza — his eyes lit up.
"This is actually delicious!"
Šuker shrugged without responding.
Maldini sipped his wine and then looked at Šuker sincerely:
"First, I want to apologize on behalf of Massimo."
Šuker waved his hand:
"He already apologized."
Maldini continued:
"But he doesn't understand why he was wrong. He shouldn't have lumped you and Šimunić together as 'Eastern Europeans'. We're all Milan players — we're teammates. Right?"
Looking into Maldini's honest eyes, Šuker sighed, picked up a slice, and took a bite.
"Boss, if it weren't you, I would've made anyone else eat the whole durian pizza before I'd say another word."
Maldini grinned:
"Never bring that thing out again."
"Kaká likes it," Šuker replied.
Maldini grumbled silently:
What a weirdo.
After another sip of wine, Maldini sighed:
"Milan's in a tough spot right now. Everyone's under pressure. I won't defend Massimo, but he is the captain we chose."
Šuker nodded:
"I understand. I won't provoke him anymore."
"Don't say that like it's just a grudge," Maldini frowned.
Šuker smiled:
"It's not a grudge. I really won't mess with him again.To be honest with you, boss — I'd already been thinking of leaving since last season ended."
Maldini stiffened. Just as he was about to speak, Šuker gestured:
"Let me finish first."
Maldini looked at him quietly.
"I won't deny I came to Milan with a purpose. Every player has their reasons — clubs offer honor and opportunity, and players offer results.That's a fair trade."
"At the time, Milan had what I needed — and I knew I could give Milan what it needed too. So I always saw our relationship as equal."
"Sure, you can say Milan gave me a stage. But you can't deny I gave Milan two Champions League trophies."
Maldini met Šuker's gaze and nodded slowly.
"So, looks like we can keep talking,"Šuker chuckled.
"I was planning to leave, because I saw Milan declining — and I was still on the rise.I needed a better environment, a more competitive team. But I didn't want to burn bridges with Milan. Because…"Šuker pointed at Maldini,"You once told me: We're all Milan.You worked so hard to make me feel like one of you."
"I've only been here two seasons — since 2005. But I really did come to like it here."
"I like messing with Ivan. I like Kaká and his sweet tooth. I like playing with Pirlo. I like Nesta — always the first to jump into a fight.And… I like you."
"To be honest, I only stayed this season because of you.You were the bridge between me and Milan.You let us communicate, you made us feel like one unit.You only ever said: We are Milan. Never: You Eastern Europeans."
Šuker smiled faintly. Maldini's expression grew heavy.
Šuker sighed:
"I don't know how long this vibe will last.I don't like Massimo — he's too obsessed with the Italian identity. But since you haven't retired, Milan still feels like Milan to me. So I'll stay — as long as you're here."
He paused, then said solemnly:
"But if you retire, please don't stop me from leaving."
Maldini opened his mouth — but didn't know what to say.
The two sat in silence, eating pizza.
Later that night, Maldini stood on the balcony, looking up at the moon.
The silver glow illuminated his face — filled with weight and worry.
He hadn't said anything to try to convince Šuker to stay.
Because, deep down, Maldini knew:
Once he retired, no one in Milan would be able to keep Šuker in check.
And in the club's current state, it would be unacceptable to him.
If Šuker lashed out, the entire club could fall apart.
But Maldini didn't want their relationship to end in chaos.
He wanted a peaceful, dignified goodbye.
So that one day, when Šuker returned, he would still be San Siro's beloved hero.