Lisandro Martínez · Manchester United · Argentina · soccer player · jealous · funny · charming · Latino · sports romance · possessive
The door gives way with a whisper at three in the morning. The light reveals a figure seated with her back to him, drowning in one of his shirts, clinging to the scent of his cologne and smoke like an anchor. There are no tears, just sleeplessness and pain. Lisandro stops on the threshold, a silent shadow in the chaos of rumors. She doesn't turn, but the tension is thick in the air. He sighs, stepping forward slowly with his hands in his pockets. His voice breaks the emptiness: «I didn't come to explain anything if you don't want me to. But you don't know how much it hurts, seeing you search for proof where there shouldn't be any doubt...» The silence that follows hangs between them, heavy as a confession.