The final days of international camp passed quickly.
Winning had a habit of doing that.
Training felt lighter.
Conversations came easier.
Confidence spread through the squad.
Spain won their second match as well.
Another strong performance.
Another victory.
Another game where Rio played a central role.
This time he scored.
A late strike from outside the box.
Clean.
Precise.
Unstoppable.
The goal earned headlines.
The performances earned respect.
But what pleased Rio most was something simpler.
The team played well.
Football remained easiest to enjoy when the collective succeeded.
By the end of camp, the atmosphere around him had changed completely.
The uncertainty from the first day was gone.
The curiosity was gone.
Now there was trust.
Players sought his opinion during tactical meetings.
Asked questions during training.
Looked toward him during difficult moments in matches.
The change had happened naturally.
No speeches.
No declarations.
No attempts to force leadership.
Just football.
On the final morning, players packed their bags and prepared to leave.
The dormitory hallways were busy.
Suitcases rolled across floors.
Doors opened and closed.
Goodbyes echoed everywhere.
Carlos found Rio while carrying two oversized bags.
"You'll be back next camp."
It wasn't a question.
Rio nodded.
"Probably."
Carlos laughed.
"Probably."
A pause.
"You know, that's the most confident answer possible."
Rio frowned.
"It is?"
"Yes."
The midfielder adjusted one of his bags.
"Most players would say they hope so."
Rio considered that.
Maybe Carlos had a point.
The national team coach approached a few minutes later.
"Rio."
The midfielder stopped.
The coach smiled.
A genuine smile.
"You had an excellent camp."
"Thank you."
The coach folded his arms.
"What impressed me most wasn't your football."
That caught Rio's attention.
Because football was usually the answer.
"You learn quickly."
A pause.
"You listen."
Another pause.
"And your teammates trust you."
The coach nodded.
"Never lose those qualities."
Simple advice.
Important advice.
Rio remembered it.
A few hours later, he boarded the flight back to Barcelona.
The city appeared beneath the clouds as the plane descended.
Familiar streets.
Familiar buildings.
Familiar coastline.
Home.
Not his first home.
Not the life he had originally known.
But home nonetheless.
When the plane landed, Rio checked his phone.
Several messages waited.
One from Bella.
National team superstar.
Predictable.
Another from his mother.
Proud of you. Travel safely.
The message made him smile.
And then there was Sofia.
Welcome back.
Simple.
Yet somehow it became the first message he replied to.
Interesting—
No.
Rio would have laughed if he knew a narrator was about to repeat that phrase again.
Instead, he simply typed:
Thank you.
A few seconds later:
Still terrible at texting.
A smile appeared immediately.
Some things hadn't changed.
Barcelona's training ground felt exactly as he remembered.
Which was comforting.
The same fields.
The same staff.
The same routines.
And unfortunately—
the same teammates.
Rio had barely entered the changing room before Messi appeared.
The Argentine looked deeply offended.
"You scored."
"Yes."
"I scored too."
"Congratulations."
Messi stared.
"You don't sound impressed."
Rio sat down.
"You score all the time."
The answer was technically true.
Messi looked even more offended.
Then started laughing.
The two compared stories from international duty.
Different countries.
Different teammates.
Surprisingly similar experiences.
Messi had been outstanding for Argentina.
Goals.
Assists.
Highlights.
Attention.
More attention than ever.
The football world was beginning to notice both of them.
Not as prospects.
Not as future talents.
As players who were already impacting matches.
That distinction mattered.
A lot.
The first-team squad gradually arrived.
Ronaldinho.
Xavi.
Puyol.
Deco.
Others.
The veterans immediately demanded reports from international duty.
Mostly because they enjoyed teasing younger players.
Ronaldinho listened to one story.
Then another.
Then smiled.
"So basically you two conquered international football."
Messi looked pleased.
Rio looked unimpressed.
The Brazilian laughed.
"Different personalities."
Very different.
The biggest surprise arrived later that afternoon.
Rijkaard gathered Rio and Messi after training.
The coach's expression was serious.
Not angry.
Not concerned.
Serious.
That usually meant something important.
"You both performed well during the break."
The teenagers nodded.
The coach continued.
"And because of that, expectations will increase."
Neither argued.
The statement was obvious.
Media attention had grown.
Scout reports had grown.
National team recognition had grown.
Everything was growing.
The coach looked directly at them.
"Don't chase headlines."
A pause.
"Don't chase praise."
Another pause.
"Chase improvement."
The words settled heavily.
Because they were true.
Football history was filled with young players who became distracted.
Satisfied.
Comfortable.
Rijkaard expected better.
And so did they.
The conversation ended shortly afterward.
As Rio left the facility, he found another message waiting.
From Sofia.
Are you free tomorrow?
He stared at the screen.
Then replied.
Yes.
A few moments passed.
Then:
Good. I missed talking to you.
Rio stopped walking.
The parking lot suddenly felt very quiet.
Not because of the message itself.
Because of how naturally she had written it.
No hesitation.
No awkwardness.
No games.
Just honesty.
And for the first time since returning to Barcelona, Rio found himself thinking about something other than football.
The next morning arrived with unusual anticipation.
Not because of training.
Not because of an upcoming match.
Not because of football at all.
That realization followed Rio through breakfast.
Bella noticed immediately.
Of course she did.
His sister possessed a remarkable ability to detect information nobody had told her.
"You have plans."
Rio looked up from his cereal.
"Yes."
Bella narrowed her eyes.
"With who?"
"Someone."
The answer lasted approximately three seconds before Bella groaned.
"You're impossible."
"Correct."
His mother hid a smile behind her coffee cup.
A conspiracy.
Definitely a conspiracy.
Rio escaped before further questions could arrive.
Barcelona was alive with weekend energy.
Tourists filled the streets.
Cafés overflowed with customers.
Musicians performed in busy squares.
The city felt brighter than usual.
Or perhaps his mood was simply better.
Sofia was already waiting when he arrived.
The moment she spotted him, she smiled.
Not a polite smile.
Not a formal one.
The kind reserved for people you were genuinely happy to see.
Something about that made Rio smile too.
"Look at that."
Sofia pointed dramatically.
"What?"
"You missed me."
Rio immediately regretted smiling.
A tactical mistake.
Sofia laughed.
"I knew it."
"You knew nothing."
"I know enough."
The confidence in her voice suggested she actually believed that.
Which was slightly concerning.
They started walking through the city without any real destination.
The conversation came naturally now.
Much more naturally than when they had first met.
There were no awkward pauses.
No uncertainty.
No need to search for topics.
The hours seemed to move faster whenever they were together.
At one point they stopped near a bookstore.
Sofia disappeared inside.
Five minutes later she emerged carrying a novel.
"You actually read for fun?"
She looked horrified.
"What did you think I did?"
Rio considered it.
"Mock me professionally."
Sofia laughed so hard she nearly dropped the book.
"That's only part-time."
The answer earned another smile.
By now, those smiles came easier.
Neither of them mentioned it.
Neither needed to.
The afternoon passed quickly.
Too quickly.
Eventually they found themselves sitting near the waterfront.
Watching boats move across the water.
Listening to distant conversations drift through the air.
For several minutes neither spoke.
It wasn't uncomfortable.
Quite the opposite.
The silence felt easy.
Comfortable.
A sign of trust.
Sofia eventually broke it.
"You've changed."
Rio looked toward her.
"How?"
She thought about the question.
Carefully.
"You're happier."
The answer surprised him.
Because it wasn't something he had considered.
Football was going well.
His family was doing better.
Barcelona trusted him.
Spain trusted him.
Life had improved.
Yet hearing someone else say it made the realization feel more real.
Sofia continued.
"You smile more."
A pause.
"You laugh more too."
Rio shook his head.
"Not much."
"You absolutely do."
The certainty in her voice left little room for debate.
And the annoying thing?
She was probably right.
The conversation drifted elsewhere afterward.
Movies.
School.
Travel.
Dreams.
Normal things.
Things that had nothing to do with football.
Which felt refreshing.
Because lately almost every conversation in Rio's life involved football.
Tactics.
Matches.
Training.
Expectations.
With Sofia, things felt different.
More balanced.
As the sun slowly began descending toward the horizon, they started heading back.
The streets glowed orange and gold.
The city looked beautiful.
Neither seemed in much of a hurry.
Eventually they reached the point where their paths separated.
The familiar moment arrived.
Goodbye.
Simple in theory.
Slightly more complicated in practice.
Sofia looked at him for a moment.
"I had fun."
"So did I."
The answer came immediately.
No hesitation.
No overthinking.
Just truth.
That seemed to make her smile.
"Good."
A pause.
"Because we're doing it again."
Rio raised an eyebrow.
"We are?"
"Yes."
The confidence returned.
As always.
Rio found himself smiling again.
"Okay."
For some reason, that answer made Sofia look unusually pleased.
They said goodbye a few moments later.
And as Rio walked away, he realized something.
The thought appeared suddenly.
Without warning.
He had been looking forward to seeing her all week.
Not as a distraction.
Not as an obligation.
Because he genuinely wanted to.
The realization followed him all the way home.
Unfortunately, Messi existed.
Which meant peace was impossible.
The following morning at training, the Argentine took one look at Rio and immediately pointed.
"There it is."
Rio frowned.
"What?"
"The face."
Messi sounded triumphant.
A terrible sign.
"What face?"
"The Sofia face."
Rio closed his eyes.
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Absolutely yes."
Several nearby teammates turned toward the conversation.
Ronaldinho appeared moments later.
Because chaos always found him.
"What happened?"
Messi pointed at Rio.
Again.
"Dinner."
"It wasn't dinner."
"Date."
"It wasn't a date."
Ronaldinho immediately joined Messi's side.
A betrayal of historic proportions.
The Brazilian nodded seriously.
"Definitely a date."
"Not helping."
"No."
Ronaldinho grinned.
"I'm not trying to."
The laughter that followed echoed across the changing room.
Even Puyol looked amused.
Which felt deeply unfair.
Training eventually saved him.
At least temporarily.
Barcelona had a huge league match approaching.
One of the biggest of the season.
A match that could shape the title race.
A match that would attract attention from across Europe.
And as coaches prepared tactical plans and players sharpened their focus, conversations continued spreading through football circles.
Scouts.
Journalists.
Analysts.
More and more people were discussing the same two names.
Messi.
Rio.
Not simply as talented teenagers anymore.
Not simply as future stars.
But as players who might one day define an era.
An enormous expectation.
Perhaps an unfair one.
Yet expectations had never frightened either of them.
And with another massive match approaching, neither planned on slowing down.
The afternoon after training was unusually peaceful.
For once, there were no matches.
No travel.
No media obligations.
No national team camps.
Just family.
Rio sat in the living room while Bella occupied the television.
Or rather, conquered it.
The remote was firmly in her possession.
Which meant negotiations were impossible.
His mother sat nearby reading while occasionally commenting on whatever show Bella had chosen.
Rio wasn't paying much attention.
He was simply enjoying the quiet.
The last few months had been a blur.
Training sessions.
Matches.
Travel.
Interviews.
National team duty.
Everything moved so fast that moments like this felt rare.
Bella suddenly looked over.
"You've been home for twenty minutes and haven't complained once."
Rio raised an eyebrow.
"I don't complain."
His mother immediately laughed.
Bella pointed triumphantly.
"See? That's a complaint."
"That's not how complaints work."
"It absolutely is."
The argument continued for several minutes.
Mostly because Bella enjoyed arguing.
Eventually Rio accepted defeat.
A wise decision.
Winning against Bella was nearly impossible.
His phone buzzed on the table.
Rio glanced down.
A message.
From Sofia.
His attention sharpened immediately.
Bella noticed.
Unfortunately.
Very unfortunately.
"Who is it?"
"No one."
Bella looked offended.
"Phones don't buzz because of no one."
His mother lowered her book slightly.
Trying very hard not to smile.
The conspiracy had returned.
Rio ignored both of them and looked at the message.
Hey. Are you busy tonight?
Simple.
He typed back.
Not really. Why?
The response came less than a minute later.
Because I was thinking maybe we could have dinner together.
Rio stared at the screen.
For a moment, the noise in the room seemed to disappear.
Dinner.
Not a random meeting.
Not running into each other.
Not a walk through the city.
Dinner.
A deliberate invitation.
His phone buzzed again.
Only if you want to.
A second later:
I'm realizing that sounded more serious than I meant it.
Then:
Now I'm making it worse.
For the first time all day, Rio laughed.
A genuine laugh.
And that immediately attracted Bella's attention.
Dangerous.
Very dangerous.
His sister sat upright.
"You laughed at a text."
Rio immediately stopped laughing.
Too late.
Bella's eyes widened.
"Oh my God."
"No."
"Oh my God."
"No."
His mother was smiling openly now.
No longer pretending.
Bella pointed dramatically.
"IT'S SOFIA."
The entire room felt hostile.
Rio looked back at his phone.
Then typed a reply.
Dinner sounds good.
The response arrived almost instantly.
Great. 7 o'clock?
Okay.
Three dots appeared.
Then another message.
I'm looking forward to it.
Rio found himself smiling again.
Bella immediately noticed.
Again.
"This is unbelievable."
"What is?"
"You actually like someone."
Rio stood up.
A tactical retreat.
The safest option available.
Unfortunately, Bella followed him into the kitchen.
"Does she know?"
"What?"
"That you're secretly a football robot."
Rio sighed.
His mother laughed from the living room.
The betrayal continued.
As evening approached, Rio found himself checking the time more than usual.
A strange development.
Normally he never cared about the clock.
Today was different.
At six-thirty, Bella appeared in the hallway.
She looked at him suspiciously.
"You're getting ready early."
"I'm leaving in thirty minutes."
"Exactly."
Bella folded her arms.
"You're nervous."
"I'm not."
"You definitely are."
"I've played in front of eighty thousand people."
Bella smiled.
"That's football."
A pause.
"This is Sofia."
For once, Rio didn't have an answer.
And judging by Bella's expression, that answer was answer enough.
At seven o'clock, he left the apartment.
The city lights were beginning to glow as evening settled over Barcelona.
Restaurants filled with people.
Conversations drifted through the streets.
Cars rolled past.
And somewhere ahead, Sofia was waiting.
Not for football.
Not for an interview.
Not for anything related to his career.
Just for him.
For some reason, that thought stayed with Rio the entire walk.
The restaurant Sofia chose wasn't expensive.
It wasn't one of the famous places tourists filled every night.
It wasn't fancy.
It wasn't crowded.
It was comfortable.
The kind of place where people came to talk.
Rio spotted her through the window before entering.
She was already there.
Sitting at a table near the back.
The moment she saw him, her face brightened.
That smile appeared again.
The one she never seemed to use for anyone else.
"You're on time."
Rio sat down across from her.
"I said seven."
"Football players are usually late."
"That's because football players are irresponsible."
Sofia laughed.
"That's a strong opinion considering you are one."
"An accurate opinion."
The conversation flowed easily from there.
As it always seemed to.
Menus arrived.
Food was ordered.
Neither paid much attention to it afterward.
Because they were too busy talking.
Sofia told stories about school.
Teachers she liked.
Teachers she didn't.
Friends.
Plans for the future.
Rio listened carefully.
Asked questions.
Actually participated.
Something Sofia clearly enjoyed.
At one point she stopped talking and stared at him.
"What?"
Rio asked.
"You ask more questions now."
Rio frowned slightly.
"Is that unusual?"
"For you?"
She nodded.
"Very."
Maybe she was right.
Months ago, most conversations had felt different.
Back then, Rio usually answered questions.
Now he genuinely wanted to know things about her.
The realization came quietly.
He liked hearing her talk.
Not because she was funny.
Though she was.
Not because she was smart.
Though she was.
He simply liked spending time with her.
The thought stayed in the back of his mind as the evening continued.
Eventually their meals arrived.
Sofia immediately stole one of his fries.
Without permission.
An act of war.
Rio looked at her.
She looked completely unapologetic.
"You're lucky I'm nice."
Sofia nearly choked laughing.
"That's the funniest thing you've ever said."
"Why?"
"Because you aren't."
"That's unfair."
"No."
She pointed a fry at him.
"It's accurate."
The conversation continued.
Easy.
Comfortable.
Natural.
Outside, Barcelona slowly grew darker.
The evening crowd filled the streets.
The restaurant became busier.
Neither seemed eager to leave.
At one point Sofia became quieter.
Not sad.
Just thoughtful.
She looked out the window for a moment.
Then back at him.
"Can I ask something?"
"Yes."
"You ever think about how much your life changed?"
The question caught him by surprise.
He considered it carefully.
Because the honest answer was complicated.
"A little."
Sofia waited.
So he continued.
"A year ago nobody knew who I was."
A pause.
"Now people stop me in public."
Another pause.
"Sometimes it feels strange."
That was probably the closest thing to vulnerability Sofia had heard from him.
She noticed.
"I can imagine."
Rio shook his head.
"No."
Sofia blinked.
"What?"
"You probably can't."
The answer wasn't arrogant.
Just honest.
She thought about it.
Then nodded.
"Fair."
The two sat in comfortable silence for a moment.
Then Sofia smiled.
"You know what hasn't changed?"
Rio looked at her.
"What?"
"You."
The answer came instantly.
Without hesitation.
Sofia leaned back in her chair.
"You still care more about football than attention."
A pause.
"You still care about your family."
Another pause.
"And you're still terrible at texting."
Rio laughed.
The serious moment immediately disappeared.
Exactly as she intended.
Sofia smiled proudly.
"Got him."
"Got who?"
"You."
The conversation carried on long after dinner ended.
Neither seemed interested in checking the time.
Eventually they left the restaurant and began walking through the city.
The air was cooler now.
The streets quieter.
The crowds smaller.
Barcelona looked different at night.
More peaceful.
For several minutes they walked side by side without speaking.
Not because they had run out of things to say.
Because silence no longer felt necessary to fill.
That realization struck Rio unexpectedly.
He felt comfortable around her.
Completely comfortable.
A rare thing.
Eventually they reached a small plaza illuminated by warm streetlights.
Sofia stopped walking.
"So."
"So?"
A smile tugged at her lips.
"This was fun."
"It was."
The answer came immediately.
Sofia seemed pleased by that.
She stepped a little closer.
Not dramatically.
Just naturally.
Close enough that Rio could see the amusement in her eyes.
"You know..."
A small pause.
"At the beginning I thought you hated me."
Rio looked genuinely confused.
"Why?"
"Because you barely talked."
"That's normal."
Sofia laughed.
"For you."
Fair point.
She shook her head.
"Now look at us."
Rio followed her gaze for a second.
Dinner.
Conversation.
Laughter.
Hours spent together.
A lot had changed.
More than either expected.
Sofia smiled softly.
"I'm glad we met."
The words were simple.
Honest.
And somehow they hit harder than expected.
Rio looked at her for a moment.
Then nodded.
"So am I."
For a second neither spoke.
The city noise seemed distant.
Muted.
Just two teenagers standing beneath the lights of Barcelona.
And for the first time, both became aware of something neither had said aloud.
This wasn't becoming friendship.
It had already become something more important than that.
Neither rushed to define it.
Neither needed to.
Not tonight.
Tonight was enough.
And as they finally said goodbye and headed home, both carried the same thought.
They were already looking forward to the next time.
Rio knew he was in trouble the moment he opened the apartment door.
Bella was waiting.
Not by coincidence.
Not naturally.
Waiting.
On the couch.
Arms folded.
Eyes narrowed.
Like a detective who had already solved the case.
His mother sat nearby trying very hard not to laugh.
A second conspiracy.
Possibly the same conspiracy.
"How was dinner?"
Bella asked.
"Good."
A mistake.
A huge mistake.
The answer came too quickly.
Bella immediately pointed.
"There."
"What?"
"That."
Rio frowned.
"That doesn't explain anything."
"It explains everything."
Bella stood up dramatically.
"You said 'good' without thinking."
His mother finally laughed.
Traitors.
Both of them.
"It was dinner."
Rio said.
Bella looked horrified.
"Just dinner?"
"Yes."
"You spent four hours at dinner."
The prosecution had evidence.
Unfortunately.
Rio wisely chose not to continue the conversation.
A tactical retreat.
The only winning move.
The following morning offered no relief.
Because Messi existed.
And somehow the Argentine always knew things.
Nobody understood how.
The moment Rio entered the training ground, Messi appeared beside him.
"You saw Sofia."
Not a question.
A statement.
Rio stopped walking.
"How?"
Messi grinned.
The grin of a man who had already won.
"You just confirmed it."
Unbelievable.
Absolutely unbelievable.
Before Rio could respond, Ronaldinho arrived.
Unfortunately.
"What happened?"
Messi immediately answered.
"Dinner."
Ronaldinho smiled.
"A date?"
"It wasn't a date."
Both older players ignored him completely.
The betrayal was becoming routine.
Thankfully, football eventually took over.
Because today was important.
Very important.
The atmosphere around the training ground felt different.
Sharper.
More focused.
More intense.
Everyone knew why.
The Clásico.
Barcelona versus Real Madrid.
The biggest match in Spanish football.
One of the biggest matches in world football.
Even veteran players carried a little extra energy.
Supporters talked about nothing else.
Television talked about nothing else.
Newspapers talked about nothing else.
The city itself seemed to buzz with anticipation.
Inside the tactical room, Rijkaard stood before the squad.
Nobody spoke.
Nobody needed to be told this match mattered.
They already knew.
The coach pointed toward the screen.
Real Madrid.
A team full of stars.
World-class players.
Champions.
The challenge could not have been bigger.
As the meeting continued, Rio found himself studying every detail.
Every movement.
Every weakness.
Every opportunity.
This wasn't just another league match.
This was the Clásico.
A match people remembered forever.
For many players, the first one remained unforgettable.
After training ended, the squad list was announced.
The room became quiet.
One by one, names were read.
Veterans.
Leaders.
Stars.
Then—
"Rio."
A brief pause.
"Messi."
The two teenagers exchanged a glance.
Neither spoke.
Neither needed to.
They were in.
Not on the bench.
Not emergency options.
Part of the squad.
For the biggest match of their lives.
Later that evening, Rio sat in his room reviewing match clips.
A habit.
A useful one.
His phone buzzed.
Sofia.
Ready for Saturday?
Rio smiled slightly.
Yes.
The reply came quickly.
Good.
A pause.
Then another message.
Because I'm going.
Rio stared at the screen.
For a moment he forgot about football entirely.
You're coming?
Of course.
A second message followed.
It's your first Clásico.
Rio looked at the words.
His first Clásico.
The phrase carried weight.
Every Barcelona player dreamed of it.
Every academy kid imagined it.
And now it was real.
Sofia sent one final message.
No pressure. Just the biggest match in Spain.
Rio laughed.
Actually laughed.
Then replied.
Helpful.
I know.
As the conversation ended, Rio placed his phone on the desk and looked out the window.
The lights of Barcelona stretched into the distance.
Somewhere across the city, supporters were already counting down the days.
Across Spain, millions were waiting.
Inside Madrid, another group of players prepared for the same battle.
And at Barcelona's training ground, two teenagers from La Masia stood on the edge of something special.
Not because they were guaranteed success.
Not because they were stars.
Because they had earned an opportunity.
The opportunity to play in their first Clásico.
And opportunities like that only came a few times in a footballer's life.