The camera lingered one more moment as Arteta clapped Izan on the shoulder, then turned to bark at the Cuesta while Izan jogged forward toward the centre circle, his expression unreadable but steady.
Whatever it had been—stern correction, tactical note, or just a burst of halftime passion—it wasn't the fracture some were quick to imagine.
If anything, it looked like the ordinary static of a high-stakes night, the kind that flared up and vanished just as fast.
And with that, Izan stepped onto the pitch, the lights of Madrid blazing above.
The second half was upon them, and the Spanish crowd roared as Real Madrid spilt out behind them, buoyant, vibrant, and already two goals to the good.
Ian Darke's voice broke through the noise, his tone controlled but laced with that undercurrent of drama he was known for.
