Adriano Riveiro's debut for the Portuguese national team was nothing short of spectacular. A hat-trick and two assists in a 6-0 victory over Peru had sent shockwaves through the football world. The media couldn't get enough of him, and fans across the globe were captivated by his talent, humility, and charisma.
The headlines the next day were effusive in their praise:
"Adriano Riveiro: The Future of Portuguese Football"
"Hat-Trick Hero Adriano Leads Portugal to World Cup Glory"
"Ronaldo Passes the Torch to Adriano in Stunning Debut"
Social media was ablaze with reactions. Portuguese fans were ecstatic, while fans from other countries marveled at the young prodigy's performance.
Portuguese Fans:
"Adriano is a generational talent! The future is bright for Portugal!"
"Ronaldo and Adriano together? We're winning the World Cup!"
"A hat-trick on his debut? This kid is unreal!"
International Fans:
"Adriano is the real deal. Portugal has found their next superstar."
"I can't believe he's only 17. The sky's the limit for him."
"Brazil must be kicking themselves for losing him to Portugal."
Even Brazilian fans, many of whom had criticized Adriano's decision to represent Portugal, couldn't help but acknowledge his brilliance.
"Okay, I'm still mad he chose Portugal, but that was an incredible performance."
"He's not Brazilian-style, but you can't deny his talent."
"Maybe we should've fought harder to keep him."
The media frenzy surrounding Adriano reached new heights. Every major sports outlet wanted an interview, and his face was plastered across newspapers, magazines, and TV screens. He was no longer just a rising star—he was a global phenomenon.
In an exclusive interview with Marca, Adriano reflected on his debut.
"It was a dream come true. To play for Portugal, to score a hat-trick, and to contribute to such an important victory—it's something I'll never forget. But this is just the beginning. We have a World Cup to prepare for, and I'm focused on helping the team succeed."
When asked about the pressure of being compared to Ronaldo, Adriano remained humble.
"Cristiano is one of the greatest players of all time. I'm not trying to be the next Ronaldo. I'm just trying to be the best version of myself and help the team in any way I can."
Ronaldo, ever the supportive mentor, also weighed in.
"Adriano is a special player. He's got the talent, the work ethic, and the mentality to achieve great things. I'm proud to have him as a teammate, and I know he'll be a key player for Portugal in the World Cup."
Amidst the celebrations and the constant buzz of media interviews, Adriano couldn't shake an unsettling feeling. Despite the wild success on the pitch and the endless praise, his phone remained silent when he tried reaching Hailee. At first, he told himself she was simply busy with filming or evading the paparazzi, but as the days rolled on, worry began to gnaw at him.
One afternoon, while sitting alone in his room, Adriano checked his messages for the umpteenth time. His heart sunk when he saw a notification—not from Hailee, but from her assistant. He opened the message with trembling fingers:
Hailee's Assistant:Adriano, I'm sorry to reach out like this, but Hailee asked me to let you know that she won't be able to contact you for a while. Her parents have decided to homeschool her for the next two years, and they've asked her to cut off all outside communication—even with you. She's really sorry and hopes you can understand.
Adriano's eyes scanned the words repeatedly, each reading deepening the sting. Homeschooling for two years? Cutting off communication? It felt like a punch to the gut. He couldn't believe that his relationship—brief yet intense—was now being severed by the strict demands of her family.
In a burst of urgency, Adriano immediately picked up his phone and called her assistant. The line rang several times before a calm voice answered.
"Hello?" the assistant said.
"Can I talk to Hailee? Just for a minute, please?" Adriano's voice trembled with desperation.
There was a pause on the other end, a few heavy seconds that stretched endlessly. Finally, the assistant spoke in a measured tone, "I'm sorry, Adriano. She's not allowed to take any calls right now. Her parents are very strict about this."
Frustration and helplessness rushed through him. "Please," he pleaded, his voice cracking slightly, "can you at least tell her that I just want to know what she really thinks of us? I need to understand."
The assistant sighed before replying, "I'll pass on your message, but Adriano, you shouldn't get your hopes up. Her parents are very determined, and they have made their decision."
Adriano ended the call, staring at his phone as if willing the message to change. The room was silent except for the hum of an air conditioner, but inside, his thoughts roiled loudly.
A few days later, an email notification popped up. Adriano's hands shook as he hesitated before opening it. The sender was clearly marked with Hailee's name. With a deep, steadying breath, he tapped to open the email and began to read:
Dear Adriano,
I don't even know where to begin. I'm so sorry for everything. I never wanted to hurt you, but my parents… they've made it clear that I have to focus on my career and my education. They don't think a long-distance relationship is good for me right now. They have decided that I need to cut off all outside communication, including with you, and that I will be homeschooled for the next two years.
I feel like my heart is being torn apart. I care about you so much, Adriano. You were the first person I got so close to in such a short time. But I can't choose between you and my family. I just can't. Please know that this decision wasn't made lightly, and I will always cherish the time we had together. You've changed my life in ways I can't even put into words. I love you, Adriano, and I'm so, so sorry.
Yours always,Hailee
Adriano read the email over and over, the words sinking deep into his heart. Each sentence felt like a fragment of a dream shattering before his eyes. He couldn't understand how it had all fallen apart so suddenly. Hailee's message was filled with sorrow and regret, and yet it bore the finality of an unchangeable decision. Her words explained nothing about what they had meant to each other—the vibrant moments they'd shared, the laughter, the tender closeness. Instead, it all came down to parental authority and the weight of expectations that she couldn't escape.
For a long moment, Adriano stared at the screen. Anger bubbled within him, mixing with sadness and a deep sense of helplessness. He wanted to call her, to hear her voice, to ask her what went wrong, but he knew that wouldn't change anything. He felt as though his life's story was ending before it truly began—a promising relationship abruptly halted by decisions made for reasons beyond his control.
He stood up and paced slowly around his room. Every step felt like an echo of the dreams he had built on the pitch, every breath a reminder of the passion he had invested into his future. Memories of their moments together—quiet dinners, walks along the beach, and the time they spent simply talking about their lives—filled his mind. He recalled the way Hailee's smile would light up the room and the sound of her laughter mingling with the evening breeze. Now, those moments were just distant echoes, replaced by the cold finality of an email.
***
Adriano sat in his childhood home in Lisbon, staring at the letter on his phone's screen for what felt like the hundredth time.
Each word from Hailee's email cut through him like a blade.
How could something so perfect be ripped away so suddenly?
His fingers trembled as he scrolled through the message again, looking for something—anything—that would make it easier to accept.
But there was nothing.
No loophole. No second chances. No "maybe someday."
It was over before it could even truly begin.
He clenched his jaw, fighting the wave of anger and frustration that threatened to overwhelm him.
He wasn't angry at Hailee—he knew she had no choice.
But her parents? They had decided he wasn't good enough before even meeting him.
They had taken her voice away.
And there was nothing he could do about it.
A deep sigh escaped his lips as he tossed his phone onto his bed and leaned back against the wall.
Outside, the sounds of his mother cooking and his father watching TV filled the house, comforting in their familiarity.
It was strange how life moved forward, no matter how much your own heart felt like it had stopped.
He closed his eyes and exhaled.
He had to let it go.
Because the only thing he had left was football.
And he was going to pour every ounce of himself into it.
***
After spending a few days with his family in Portugal, Adriano returned to Málaga, quieter than usual. Whatever warmth he'd tried to recover at home hadn't filled the hollow space left behind.
But he didn't talk about it.He just trained.
On his first day back, he stepped onto the training ground with a different kind of focus. Sharper. Heavier.
During warmups, Joaquín leaned over to Juanmi."Look at him. He's dialed in like never before."Juanmi nodded, watching Adriano power through drills."Yeah… but it's not just focus. Something's off. Like he's carrying something heavy."
Even Pellegrini noticed. After training, he caught Adriano before he left the pitch.
"You good?" the coach asked casually.
Adriano paused, wiping sweat from his face. "Yeah. Just focused."
Pellegrini looked at him for a second, as if trying to read past the surface. He didn't push."Alright. We've got two big ones coming up. Villarreal this weekend… then Madrid at the Bernabéu."
Adriano met his gaze."I'll be ready."
***
The night sky buzzed with electricity. Villarreal's stadium was a sea of yellow, fans waving flags and chanting with fury. Flares lit up the stands. The home side smelled blood—they wanted to take down the upstart Málaga.
But Adriano?He heard none of it.
As the teams walked out onto the pitch, his eyes scanned the field like a soldier walking into battle. No nerves. No fear. Just silence inside his head.
From the opening whistle, Málaga played with urgency. They pressed high, moved the ball quickly. Villarreal matched them blow for blow—until the tenth minute.
A poor clearance from Villarreal's backline dropped into midfield. Camacho intercepted and quickly fed the ball to Adriano, who drifted into space thirty yards from goal.
He took one touch forward. A defender stepped up.
Too late.
Adriano dropped his shoulder, glided past him like a shadow, and uncorked a shot with his right foot.
CRACK.
The ball sliced through the air, rising with venom, and slammed into the top corner before the goalkeeper could even dive.
GOOOOOAAAALLLL!!!0-1, Málaga!
The away section exploded. Fans leapt over each other in celebration, but Adriano didn't react.He turned, head down, and jogged back to midfield like it was a routine play at training.
Joaquín glanced at him as they reset. "You alright, man?"
Adriano's eyes stayed locked ahead."Just keep playing."
Villarreal tried to regroup. They pushed high, moving the ball through the midfield, but Málaga were compact, disciplined. Every time the home side got close to the box, they ran into a wall.
Then came the counter.
Thirty-first minute. Villarreal lost the ball near the halfway line. Recio snapped up possession and sent a quick pass wide to Joaquín.
Joaquín raced down the right flank, a blur past the fullback. He looked up once—and saw him.
Adriano sprinting into position, dead center at the top of the box.
The cross came low and fast.
Adriano didn't break stride.One touch to kill it.One touch to bury it.
The ball skimmed off the inside of his boot and kissed the far post before rolling into the net.
GOAL! 0-2!
He gave Joaquín a slight nod. That was it.
The team huddled around him, slapping his back, shouting praise—but he barely acknowledged it.He wasn't here to celebrate.He was here to finish something.
Second half.
Villarreal came out desperate. They pressed harder, swung crosses into the box, and finally—after sustained pressure—snatched a goal. A long-range shot deflected past Málaga's keeper.1-2.
The crowd roared back to life. The game suddenly felt alive again.
But Adriano wasn't done.
Seventy-fourth minute. Málaga won a corner.
The stadium buzzed with tension. Adriano stood near the penalty spot, eyes locked on the ball.
The cross came in—high, curling, perfect.
The ball dipped right into the chaos, but Adriano read it first.He took two steps forward and hit it clean on the volley.
BOOM.
It rocketed through a mass of legs, past the keeper's desperate hands, and into the roof of the net.
GOOOOOAAALLLL! HAT-TRICK! ADRIANO RIVEIRO!
He turned toward the Málaga bench, fists clenched, jaw set. Not smiling. Not celebrating.Just burning.
The bench erupted. Players jumped to their feet. Even Pellegrini stood and clapped slowly, watching his star player walk back to the halfway line like a man possessed.
The rest of the game was a blur.
Adriano assisted Málaga's fourth goal with a clever through ball to Juanmi. Then, late in stoppage time, Darder added a fifth after a brilliant team move.
Final whistle:1-5. Málaga.
Total destruction. Away from home.
Adriano finished with three goals and one assist. Man of the Match. Maybe of the month.
As the players walked toward the away end to thank their traveling supporters, the fans chanted his name again and again.
"A-dri-a-no! A-dri-a-no!"
He raised one hand, briefly.
Then turned and walked off.
He had done what he came to do. But in his mind, it wasn't the end.
***
The players were buzzing. Some were laughing. Others were still catching their breath.Pellegrini waited until everyone had calmed.
"Great win tonight," he said. "But listen—next week is different."
The room went quiet.
"We're going to the Bernabéu," he continued. "Real Madrid. You all know what that means."
Nobody needed to be reminded. Ronaldo, Bale, Benzema. Modrić, Kroos. Ramos. Stars across the pitch.The Galácticos.
Pellegrini's eyes moved across the room, finally landing on Adriano."I know what you're thinking."
Adriano held his gaze, calm."I'm not just thinking about proving myself," he said. "I want to beat them."
The room stirred. Joaquín smirked. "Now that's what I like to hear."A few players chuckled, the tension breaking for a moment.
Pellegrini nodded."Good. Because if we walk out of the Bernabéu with a win… people will stop calling this a fairytale. They'll start calling it real."
Adriano said nothing. But in his mind, everything was clear.
This was the moment he'd been waiting for.
To go toe-to-toe with giants.To show the world what he was capable of.To bury everything he was feeling in the only place that ever made sense—on the pitch.
He would walk into Madrid with one goal.
Be undeniable.