The sun bathed Munich's streets in soft golden light.
Hand in hand, Mateo and Klara strolled through Marienplatz Mall, weaving easily through the bustling Saturday crowd.
It was a familiar place now —but today, everything felt different.
Because today, they weren't just two nervous teenagers on their first date.
Today, they were something more.
Something stronger.
Something real.
Klara squeezed his hand playfully.
"You're too quiet," she teased, flashing him a sideways smile."Thinking too much again, superstar?"
Mateo chuckled softly, his dark hair ruffling in the gentle breeze.
"Maybe," he admitted."Just... remembering."
And he did.
The memories came rushing back —vivid, raw, beautiful.
Their first date.Nervous laughter.Ice cream under the sun.The accidental brushing of fingers that had set his heart racing.
The beginning of the U17 league.
Bayern Munich's dominance from the first match.
Mateo bursting onto the scene —unstoppable, relentless.
By mid-season, the press had already started calling him "The New Prodigy of Bayern."
But Mateo didn't care about headlines.
He cared about the field.About improving.About honoring the dream that had started long ago — beside a hospital bed, under his father's final smile.
He remembered the final day of the season, when Bayern lifted the trophy.
They had destroyed the league, finishing more than fifteen points ahead of the second-place team.
Mateo had ended the season as:
Top Scorer.
Top Assist Provider.
MVP of the Tournament.
Tears had burned his eyes as he held the golden boot in his hands —not from pride,but from the thought:
"I wish you could see me, Dad.I kept my promise."
The second year had been even tougher — and better.
The expectations were enormous.
The pressure suffocating.
Mateo met it head-on.
International friendlies tested Bayern's youth team against the best academies in the world:
Barcelona with their endless passing drills.
Arsenal with their speed and vertical attacks.
Juventus with their ruthless defensive structures.
Real Madrid with their terrifying counterattacks.
Some matches they won.Some, they lost.
But every match carved something sharper inside him.
Something stronger.
And through it all —through every goal,every injury,every grueling practice session —
Klara was there.
Cheering from the stands.Sending him messages before every game.Holding his hand after every defeat.Celebrating every small victory like it was a championship.
And then —
the most terrifying moment of all.
One cold afternoon after training, surrounded by some of his closest friends, Mateo had decided to finally ask Klara to be his girlfriend.
But, being Mateo, he couldn't just say it.
No, he had decided — in his awkward, nervous way — to write it on a big poster he made himself.
In shaky German, with huge, crooked letters:
"Willst du meine Freundin sein?"("Would you be my girlfriend?")
Klara had stared at it for a moment —then burst out laughing, not cruelly, but joyfully.
Mateo's friends had filmed everything, their laughter filling the winter air.
Mateo had turned beet red, wishing he could dig a hole and hide in it.
But then —Klara had stepped forward, taken the poster from his trembling hands,and kissed him gently on the cheek.
"Of course, silly," she had whispered, eyes shining.
"I've been waiting for you to ask."
From that day forward, they had been inseparable.
Two years.
Of growing.
Of dreaming.
Of becoming more.
Now, standing again in the mall where it all began, Mateo squeezed her hand tightly.
"I still can't believe everything that's happened," he murmured.
Klara leaned against him.
"You earned every bit of it," she said softly."And you're just getting started."
Just as he was about to reply —his phone vibrated in his jacket pocket.
He fished it out, frowning slightly at the unknown number.
Curious, he answered.
"Hallo?"
"González? This is Coach Dietrich."The familiar voice snapped him to full attention.
"Coach! Is everything okay?"
"Everything's great," Dietrich said, a small laugh in his voice."You need to report to Säbener Straße tomorrow morning. First thing."
Mateo blinked.
"But… we have a free week. No training, right?"
A pause.
Then:
"Not for the U17s," the coach said.
"You're reporting to the first team."
Mateo froze.
The noise of the mall seemed to dim around him.
The words echoed in his mind again:
"First team.""First team.""First team."
Klara, noticing the change in his expression, tugged his arm urgently.
"What? What is it?"
Slowly, Mateo lowered the phone.
His eyes — wide, stunned — met hers.
"I... I'm being called up," he whispered."To the Bayern Munich first team."
For a heartbeat, Klara just stared.
Then her face lit up — pure sunshine.
Without hesitation, she threw her arms around him, laughing and crying at once.
"You did it!" she whispered fiercely into his ear."I knew you would!"
Mateo hugged her back tightly, burying his face in her hair, the world spinning around him.
And then —Klara pulled back just enough to cup his cheeks, standing on tiptoe —and kissed him.
A kiss full of joy.Of pride.Of endless, shining belief.
The mall, the people, the noise — all disappeared.
There was only this moment.
Only her.
Only the beginning of the dream coming true.
As they finally broke apart, both breathless, Klara grinned wide.
"Tomorrow," she whispered."Your new life starts."
Mateo nodded, heart pounding.
"And you're coming with me," he said, grinning.
"Every step."
Tomorrow, Mateo González Schwarz would walk into Säbener Straße —into the legendary training ground of Bayern Munich's first team.
But today?
Today he held the hand of the girl who had always believed in him —even before the world knew his name.
And somehow —that was the greatest victory of all.