The days after a debut were dangerous. Not because of injury or fatigue—those were expected, manageable. No, the real danger came from the whispers.
You did it.
You've made it.
You're a first-team player now.
Thiago ignored them all. He didn't listen to the murmurs in the locker room, the approving nods from staff, the way even the veterans glanced at him a second longer than before. While others lounged in the boot room, stretching lazily and trading jokes before warm-ups, he was already five laps deep into his morning routine, his breath coming in steady clouds as his cleats crunched against the frost-covered grass.
The cold no longer bit at his fingertips—it had become an old friend, a constant companion that reminded him comfort meant nothing here. Not when you were chasing something real.
