The evening air was crisp as Mateo walked nervously toward Klara's house.
In his hands, a small box of chocolates —his mother's idea.
"Always bring a gift the first time," she had insisted, half-serious, half-teasing.
He adjusted his jacket, wiped his palms discreetly on his jeans,and rang the doorbell.
Moments later, the door swung open.
Klara stood there, radiant as always, her blonde hair falling neatly over her shoulders.
Her smile immediately eased some of the tightness in Mateo's chest.
"You made it," she said warmly.
"I wouldn't miss it," Mateo answered, his voice only slightly strained.
She laughed and pulled him inside.
The house was cozy and tastefully decorated —walls lined with family photos, soft lighting, the scent of freshly baked bread in the air.
Waiting in the living room were Klara's parents.
Her mother — tall, graceful, with kind green eyes —and her father — broad-shouldered, serious-looking, with a neatly trimmed beard and sharp blue eyes.
For a heartbeat, Mateo froze.
But then Klara's mother stepped forward and embraced him gently.
"So you are the famous Mateo," she said warmly."Klara talks about you all the time. Welcome to our home."
Her father shook his hand firmly but not harshly.
"Nice to finally meet you, Mateo."
"Thank you for having me," Mateo said, bowing his head politely.
Dinner was lively and full of laughter.
Klara's mother had prepared a traditional German meal —sauerbraten with red cabbage and homemade dumplings.
The conversation flowed easily, surprisingly.
Klara's parents asked about his training, his studies, his future plans.
Mateo answered honestly —telling them about his dreams, his struggles, his love for the game.
He could see Klara smiling proudly throughout.
By the end of the meal, Mateo felt something he hadn't expected:comfort.
It wasn't an interrogation.It wasn't a test.
It was... acceptance.
As the plates were cleared and coffee was served,Klara's father stood up and motioned discreetly to Mateo.
"Would you mind joining me for a moment?" he asked.
Mateo blinked, caught slightly off guard, but nodded.
Klara gave him a small reassuring smile as he followed her father down the hallway to a study.
The room was lined with bookshelves.Sports memorabilia decorated the walls.Trophies, plaques — and framed magazine covers.
Behind a large wooden desk, Klara's father gestured for Mateo to sit.
He remained standing, hands behind his back.
After a moment, he spoke:
"Mateo, do you know who I am?"
Mateo shifted in his seat, confused.
"I... no, sir. I'm sorry."
The man chuckled lightly.
"No need to apologize."
He reached into a drawer and pulled out a folder, sliding it across the desk.
"I'm an executive at Kicker Sportmagazin," he said.
Mateo's eyes widened.
Kicker.Germany's most prestigious football magazine.
The very magazine that had written about his matches, his performances, his rise.
He remembered seeing articles online.Small features at first —but growing bigger with each month.
"Wait..." Mateo stammered."Is this because I'm dating Klara?"
The man's face grew serious.
"No," he said firmly."I don't mix family and profession.Everything we've published about you was earned — by your excellence on the field."
Mateo swallowed hard, nodding.
It meant a lot — more than he could put into words.
Klara's father smiled slightly and pushed the folder closer.
"Here," he said."I thought you deserved to see this first."
Mateo opened the folder carefully.
Inside was a mock-up of a magazine cover.
His own face filled the page —mid-dribble, intense focus captured perfectly.
Above the image, in bold striking letters:
"Mateo González: The New Star of World Football."
Mateo stared, speechless.
His heart pounded.
There was pride —but also disbelief.
This wasn't just a dream anymore.
The world was starting to notice.
Starting to believe.
Just like he always had.
Klara's father chuckled at his stunned expression.
"You earned this, Mateo," he said."Welcome to the real stage."