The city didn't sleep after the clássico. Headlines filled every paper:
"Gabriel Silva decides the Fla-Flu!"
"The boy from the backyard is Flamengo's new jewel."
"Two goals, dribbles, and a promise for the future."
On social media, his name trended for hours. Clips of his nutmeg, his chip, and his composed finish spread everywhere. Strangers sent him messages, fans shouted his name in the streets.
At Gávea, younger boys from the academy ran up to him asking for autographs. Even veterans from the professional team patted him on the back.
For the first time, Gabriel felt it: the world was watching.
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The Weight of Fame
But fame wasn't only glory.
At night, he scrolled through his phone, comments flashing by the thousands. Some adored him, calling him the next Gabigol, even the "new Zico." Others mocked him, saying he'd fade like many before.
The pressure pressed against his chest.
He stepped out to the rooftop, breathing the cool Rio air. His mother appeared behind him, her hands folded, eyes filled with quiet pride.
"Você está crescendo rápido demais, Biel," she whispered.
"I don't want to let anyone down," Gabriel admitted.
"You already carry more than most men your age," she said, stroking his hair. "But don't forget—you're still just a boy. You're allowed to live."
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A New Spark
It was during an after-match celebration, organized by the club, that Gabriel felt something unusual. The event was crowded—players, staff, journalists, even actors and influencers who loved Flamengo.
As cameras flashed and music filled the hall, Gabriel felt out of place, shifting awkwardly near the buffet. He wasn't used to glittering lights off the field.
That's when he noticed her.
A girl, not much older than him, laughing with friends, her presence luminous. He had seen her before—on TV, in series his mother watched, in magazines. She was famous in her own world, just as he was beginning to be in his.
Their eyes met briefly. She smiled, warm and genuine. Gabriel felt his chest tighten, not like when facing a defender, but in a way he didn't understand.
They spoke only a little that night—light, playful words, nothing deep. But it was enough to plant something in his heart: curiosity, excitement, maybe even hope.
---
The Vow of a Star
Later, walking home under the night sky, Gabriel replayed everything—the cheers, the chants, the smile he'd seen across the room.
The Maracanã still echoed in his bones. But now, another thought lingered: football wasn't his only world anymore. Life outside the pitch was waiting too, messy and beautiful.
He looked up at the stars, clenching his fists.
"One day," he whispered, "I'll win the Libertadores with Flamengo. I'll wear the yellow jersey of Brazil. And maybe… I'll find someone to share it all with."
The boy from the backyard was no longer just a dreamer. He was a rising flame, burning brighter with every step.
And the world was ready to watch him blaze.