**Chapter 38 - Winning Ground**
I hadn't planned to walk that far, but after the coffee at the café and the chaos earlier that morning, I figured some fresh air would do me good. The streets were calm, with only a few shopkeepers setting up their stalls, the occasional bus roaring by, and the slow rhythm of a city waking up.
As I turned a familiar corner, I felt a tug of recognition. My steps slowed. Up ahead, the worn fences and faded court lines came into view—the futsal court. The same one where I'd helped that ragtag team pull off a comeback just a few days ago.
The moment I stepped closer, a few of the players spotted me.
"Yo!" one of them shouted, pointing in my direction. "It's him! Carlos, right?"
Before I knew it, a bunch of them had jogged over. They looked genuinely happy to see me.
"Man, you don't know what you did for us that day," one said, clapping me on the back.
"We've been trying to play more seriously ever since," another added.
