The scoreboard, a cold and unforgiving digital beast, glared down at us: Barcelona 3, Inter 1. The silence in the San Siro was a palpable weight, a collective gasp of despair.
My body ached, my legs felt like lead, and my lungs burned with every breath. The comeback, the hope, the beautiful moment of my goal—it all felt like a lifetime ago.
The game felt lost.
But a true Inter player never gives up.
I looked at my teammates. Their shoulders were slumped, their eyes heavy with disappointment, but there was still a spark there. A flicker of defiance.
Lautaro Martínez, his face streaked with sweat and grim determination, refused to stop running. Cole Palmer, calm as ever, was still scanning the field, looking for an opening, a sliver of hope.
