Chapter 70 – Fire in the Veins
The night before the next match was heavy with silence. In the small dormitory, Jota lay awake, eyes fixed on the wooden ceiling. Outside, the crickets sang, and the faint rustle of wind moved through the trees, but inside his chest, the sound was different—his heart beating fast, filled with a restless fire.
He thought of the last match, the goal, the roar of the crowd—even if it was only a handful of villagers and children waving handmade flags. That noise still echoed in his ears. Not because of pride, but because it awakened something: a reminder of what he had been, and what he could become again.
> "One step at a time," he whispered to himself.
"Greatness is not rushed—it's built."
