CHAPTER 63: CHAPTER 63 – THE QUIET BETWEEN

Tuesday came like an exhale.

The draw against Santos was still fresh in everyone’s minds—pundits dissecting every minute, fans rewatching clips, headlines spinning narratives. But at the Palmeiras training ground, things had slowed. Regeneration day. No media access. No public drills. Just breath.

Thiago arrived early, more from habit than obligation. The halls were quieter. The weight room echoed with the soft clatter of dumbbells. The physio rooms hummed with machines and whispered consultations. Even Eneas kept a low profile, allowing players to reset.

Thiago moved through the motions. Light stretches. Pool therapy. Ice. No cleats today—just recovery slides and the stillness of routine.

But his mind wasn’t still.

That afternoon, he called home.

His mother answered on the second ring, voice a familiar warmth that made his throat tighten.

"Thiago? You’re calling in the middle of the day—is everything alright?"

"Yeah, mãe. Everything’s fine," he said, standing near the dormitory balcony, the breeze brushing against his hair. "I just... wanted to talk."

There was a pause. "You sound different."

He didn’t know how to answer that. So he waited.

Finally, she asked, "Is it about a girl?"

He almost laughed—but the weight in his chest didn’t budge. "No. Not exactly."

"Then tell me, meu filho."

"I’m... thinking of leaving. After the Paulista ends. To Europe."

Silence.

The kind that stretched and softened the air around it.

She finally spoke—her voice a mix of quiet awe and maternal ache. "Europe?"

"Germany, maybe. Or Portugal. Spain’s a possibility too. Even England."

He heard her breathe in slowly, then out again. "You’ve thought it through?"

"I have."

"Is this because of the scouts? Or because of what people are saying?"

"It’s not just that. I want to grow. I can feel the ceiling here, mãe. Not because it’s not enough—but because it’s the start. I want to see how far I can really go."

There was a pause, then her voice came, lower this time. "You were just a boy kicking bottle caps in the courtyard. I’d yell at you to come in, and you’d say, ’Só mais um gol, mãe.’ Just one more goal."

Thiago closed his eyes. "Still feels like I’m chasing that goal."

"You always will." Her voice trembled. "But you’re not a boy anymore."

He heard her sniffle, soft but unmistakable.

"You’re not a boy anymore," she repeated, softer this time. "You’re a young man... and now you’re chasing something the rest of us can’t even see yet."

Thiago leaned against the railing, phone pressed gently to his ear, staring down at the cracked concrete below.

"I’m scared," he admitted.

There was a beat of silence—no surprise on the other end.

"You should be," she said. "Any path worth walking should scare you a little. But I’ve watched you grow into this. You think I don’t notice the weight in your voice? The way your shoulders carry more than just a shirt now?"

Thiago didn’t know what to say.

"I’ll miss you," she said suddenly. "Every day. But I raised you to go. Not to stay."

His throat tightened. "I’ll visit. I’ll send money. I’ll call every week."

"You better," she said again, sniffling with a half-laugh. "And I’ll still keep your room the same. Just in case you need to run back for a little while."

He wiped his face, grateful she couldn’t see the dampness there. "Thanks, mãe."

"Go and become what you’re meant to be. But don’t forget who you are."

"I won’t."

"I love you, Thiago."

"I love you too."

They didn’t hang up right away. They just stayed connected, the silence holding them together. Until eventually, the line clicked off.

That evening, he found Clara in her usual spot—on the living room floor, cross-legged in front of the TV, sketching in a notebook while a muted cartoon flickered in the background.

She looked up as he stepped in. "Hey."

He dropped a small paper bag on the couch beside her. "Your favorite brigadeiros."

Her eyes lit up. "You’re either guilty or about to confess something."

"Both."

She snorted and popped one into her mouth. "Out with it."

Thiago sat on the couch, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "I’m leaving after the Paulista. To Europe. I talked to mãe already."

Clara blinked, slowly chewing, then sat upright. "For how long?"

"Maybe a few years. Depends where I go. Could be Portugal, Germany, Spain. Marina’s helping sort it out."

Another pause.

Clara looked down at her notebook.

"Are you sad?" he asked.

"No," she said. Then, with a smaller voice, "Yeah. But not mad. Just... I didn’t think it would be this soon."

"I didn’t either," he said truthfully.

"You’re not gonna forget us, right?"

Thiago reached over and poked her in the forehead. "You think I could forget this stubborn melon?"

She grinned. "You’d better still call. Even if it’s snowing or if your coach has you running laps in the Alps or something."

"I promise."

"And... are you happy?" she asked, softer this time.

He looked at her.

"I think I will be," he said.

"Then okay," she whispered. "Just don’t forget your roots, big bro."

He stayed for dinner, the three of them sitting close around the small table. His mother made stroganoff with too much sauce, Clara drew a fake mustache on her upper lip with soy sauce, and Thiago laughed until his stomach hurt.

For a while, it felt like nothing would change.

But he knew the truth: everything already had.

That night, back in his dorm room, Thiago stood in the quiet. Outside, the city thrummed—cars and footsteps and shouts drifting in on the night breeze.

He pulled out his Palmeiras hoodie from the wardrobe. Worn. Slightly faded. A gift from when he first joined the academy.

He held it in his hands.

Not to wear—but just to feel the weight of it.

The beginning.

He sat on the edge of his bed and pulled up the System.

SYSTEM STATUS

Level: 15

EXP: 153 / 600

Skill Points Available: 10

Attributes:

Pace – 70

Dribbling – 71

Shooting – 67

Passing – 69

Physicality – 66

Mentality – 64

Sub-Attributes:

Ball Control – 71

Trick Execution – 63

Stamina – 64

Active Quest:Chain Reaction

(Contribute to 6 goals before the end of the Campeonato Paulista)

Progress: 4 / 6

He blinked it away.

Tomorrow, preparations for the second leg would begin in full.

And soon, it would be time to step into the unknown.

But tonight?

Tonight, he was still home.