coach

The house was never big, but it was always enough. The simple walls, the noisy fan, and the old furniture didn't bother anyone, because something rare existed there: a sense of welcome. He grew up with only his mother. He never knew his father—all he knew was that he had left when he was too young to remember. His mother never spoke about it, she just moved on, working and doing everything she could to give her son a decent life. Until one day, another man appeared. He brought neither riches nor grand promises. He only brought peace… and a little girl in his arms. She was his daughter, abandoned by her own mother when she was a baby. Even so, the boy's mother did not hesitate. And that's how, without much planning, they became a family. At first, it was strange for him. Sharing the house, sharing attention… sharing his mother. But everything changed the day that little girl held his finger for the first time. Small, fragile… trusting him without knowing who he was. He didn't say anything. But he didn't let go either. The years passed quickly. She started walking, then running, then talking—and before they knew it, she was always following him around. "Wait for me!" "You're not going without me!" And even when feigning impatience... he always waited. They grew up together. They played, laughed, and shared the simple days of that house which, even without luxury, was full of life. To everyone around them, they were brothers. And they believed that too. But, over time, he changed. He became quieter, more withdrawn. He learned early on that life wasn't easy and that depending on others only brought disappointment. He built a barrier around himself, becoming cold, calculating, and difficult to understand. Except with her. With her... there was still something different. She remained the only one capable of drawing any lightness out of him, even when he tried to hide it. Until the day he left.