The days no longer dragged like they had at first.
Thiago's first week at Borussia Dortmund settled into a rhythm that, while still foreign, had begun to feel less like stumbling through the dark. His body had started adjusting to the brutal schedule—waking before dawn to the shrill beep of his alarm, forcing down breakfast while his stomach still protested sleep, making the quiet trek through streets still slick with morning dew to reach the training ground as the sun crept over the industrial Dortmund skyline.
The cold still gnawed at his fingers and turned his breath to fog, but it no longer shocked his system the way it had that first day. He'd learned to layer up properly—thermal base layers beneath his training gear, gloves with grip for ball work, a beanie tugged low over his ears during warm-ups. The sharp bite of winter air still stung his lungs during full-pitch sprints, but he'd stopped gasping like a fish out of water after every drill.
