Izan lifted his gaze to the stands, to the sea of red and yellow. The Spanish fans roared, chanting his name, Yamal's, Rodri's—every hero on that battlefield tonight.
The final whistle had been blown, but the reality was still sinking in.
Spain were in the Euro 2024 final.
The players embraced, exhaustion momentarily forgotten. Rodri clapped Izan on the back, grinning. "One more game."
Izan exhaled. "One more."
The cameras caught every moment—Yamal and Nico Williams laughing as they waved at the Spanish supporters, Morata embracing Unai Simón, Cucurella still wide-eyed from the madness.
Luis de la Fuente, always composed, let himself smile. He shook hands with Didier Deschamps before heading to his players, ruffling Yamal's hair before embracing Izan.
"You were brilliant tonight," the coach said. "Every single one of you."
Izan gave a small nod, still catching his breath. His mind briefly flickered back to the stands—to Olivia, to the surprise he hadn't expected.
