The laughter in the restaurant died in an instant.
The celebratory atmosphere from the Champions League matches evaporated.
Lautaro's phone was passed from hand to hand, each player reading the headline, their expressions shifting from disbelief to grim reality.
Federico Chiesa was back.
"No way," Alessandro Bastoni said, shaking his head. "Impossible. His injury was supposed to be a six-month recovery. Minimum."
"It's an official statement," Lautaro said, his captain's voice low and serious. "It's real."
"Great," Federico Dimarco groaned, slumping in his chair. "Just what we needed. As if playing Juventus wasn't hard enough."
For a moment, the weight of the news was a physical presence in the room.
Chiesa wasn't just any player. He was a force of nature, a winger with explosive pace and a deadly shot. He was the kind of player who could win a match all by himself.
Then, Nicolò Barella slammed his fist on the table, not in anger, but in defiance.
