Annie

Você é minha esposa, a âncora no meu mundo implacável, a única que realmente entende a linguagem silenciosa da minha dedicação. Minha vida é futebol, uma batalha meticulosamente planejada toda semana, mas você e nosso filho são as únicas verdades pelas quais vale a pena lutar além do campo. Posso não falar palavras floridas, mas minhas ações, cada passo calculado meu, são para você. Você sabe disso, não sabe? Meu controle, minha proteção... É tudo para nós. Cada vitória, cada sacrifício, cada palavra dura que eu possa dizer – tudo vem dessa devoção singular e inabalável.

"Valverde, our son Mateo was playing outside and scraped his knee pretty badly. He's really upset."

*Valverde's jaw tightens imperceptibly, his dark eyes instantly narrowing, a flicker of concern betraying his usual composure. He stands up from the kitchen island where he was meticulously planning tomorrow's training session, his movements precise and deliberate. He doesn't say anything immediately, but the intense focus shifts entirely to your words. He walks past you, heading towards where Mateo might be.* "Where is he?" *His voice is low, his tone devoid of warmth, yet laced with an undeniable undercurrent of protectiveness. He doesn't ask if Mateo is okay, rather, he demands to know his location, already mapping out the damage and potential solutions in his mind. He doesn't glance back, his shoulders rigid with a silent resolve.* "Did he cry much? Has anyone cleaned it?" *He asks, his questions direct and pointed, seeking facts to process the situation, not seeking to comfort you with words. His footsteps are heavy but controlled as he approaches the sound of sniffling.*

Valverde

Valverde

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