The Santiago Bernabéu stadium stood majestic under the glow of the setting sun. Florence Rae Alvarez knelt on the pitch, adjusting her shin guards as her breath mingled with the crisp Madrid air. Though the stands were empty, she could almost hear the phantom roar of thousands of fans chanting her name. Playing for Real Madrid had always been her dream, and now, at 25, she was living it.

Her fingers brushed the silver bracelet on her wrist—a thin chain adorned with a small Real Madrid logo. A gift from her brother, Javier, the bracelet had been with her through every step of her journey. It wasn't just jewelry; it was a talisman, a piece of home.

"Florence! We're not done yet!"

Coach's sharp voice cut through the air, pulling her out of her thoughts. She quickly stood, brushing the dirt off her shorts as she jogged back to her teammates.

"Keep your head in the game," the coach barked as the team lined up for shooting drills.

"Yes, Coach," she called back, her focus snapping into place.

The ball came to her feet, and with one fluid motion, she struck it into the top corner of the net. Applause erupted from her teammates, but Florence barely noticed. Her body moved instinctively, but her mind was elsewhere, tangled in memories of a simpler time.

A time when she wasn't just Florence Rae Alvarez, Real Madrid's star forward. A time when she was just a girl who spent her afternoons kicking a ball with her best friend.

Nine years earlier, when Florence was sixteen, she'd faced the hardest decision of her life.

She had met Lando Norris when she was six, just a year after her family had moved from Madrid to Somerset, England. Back then, she was the shy, Spanish girl struggling to fit in. Lando had been her first friend, the boy who had knocked on her door with a football under one arm and a crooked grin on his face.

"Wanna play?" he'd asked, not caring that she barely spoke English.

From that moment, they were inseparable. Florence was fiery and determined, always with a football at her feet, while Lando was adventurous and endlessly curious, his head full of dreams about racing cars. They pushed each other, supported each other, and spent countless afternoons in the park sharing their ambitions.

"You're gonna play for Real Madrid one day," Lando had told her once, after she scored an impressive goal.

"And you're going to be a world champion," she'd replied with a smile.

At sixteen, her dream came knocking. A Real Madrid scout offered her a spot in their prestigious academy, an opportunity that was impossible to turn down. But the offer meant moving back to Madrid, leaving behind everything she knew—including Lando.

Their goodbye had been heart-wrenching. They had stood in her driveway, clinging to each other as they promised to stay in touch.

"We'll talk every day," Lando had said, his voice thick with emotion.

"And when we're living our dreams, we'll meet again," Florence had replied, fighting back tears.

For a while, they kept their promise. Texts, calls, even the occasional video chat. But life got in the way. Lando's racing career took off, and Florence was consumed by the demands of the academy. The messages grew less frequent, until they stopped altogether.

She told herself it was for the best. They were both chasing their dreams. But there were moments, like today, when she wondered what might have been if things had been different.

"¡Flor! ¡Vamos!"

Javier's voice broke through her reverie as training wrapped up. Her older brother stood at the edge of the pitch, waving enthusiastically.

"Coming!" Florence jogged over, her grin widening as she reached him. "What are you doing here?"

"Just watching my little sister crush it," Javier replied, pulling her into a quick hug.

She laughed, nudging him playfully. "You're ridiculous."

"And you're amazing," he countered, his pride evident. "Don't forget dinner with Mamá tonight."

"I won't."

After grabbing her things, Florence decided to stop by her favorite café in the heart of Madrid. It was a quiet, tucked-away spot where she could unwind without the buzz of fans or media. She ordered her usual café con leche and slid into a corner booth, pulling out her phone.

She was scrolling absentmindedly when a deep voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Hola, Florence."

She looked up, startled, to see a man standing by her table. Her breath caught as she recognized him—Carlos Sainz, the Formula 1 driver.

"Hi," she said, her voice faltering slightly.

Carlos smiled, his demeanor warm and friendly. "Sorry to bother you. You're Florence Rae Alvarez, right? Real Madrid forward?"

"That's me," she replied, still trying to process the surreal moment.

"Mind if I join you? I'm a huge Madridista."

She gestured for him to sit. "Sure."

Carlos sat across from her, his sharp eyes scanning her bracelet as she adjusted it.

"Is that a Real Madrid charm?" he asked.

Florence smiled. "Yeah. My brother gave it to me when I joined the academy. It's kind of my good luck charm."

Carlos grinned. "That's cool. You're living every Madridista's dream, you know."

"Thanks," she said, taking a sip of her coffee.

They chatted for a while about football, Real Madrid's current form, and life in Madrid. Florence found herself relaxing. Carlos was easy to talk to, and his passion for the sport mirrored her own.

"So, how long have you been with Madrid?" Carlos asked.

"Since I was sixteen," Florence replied. "I joined the academy when my family moved back to Spain."

Carlos nodded, leaning back in his chair. "That's impressive. Not many people make it to this level."

Florence shrugged modestly, but before she could reply, Carlos tilted his head, his expression thoughtful.

"You know," he began, "I have a friend who's a huge Real Madrid fan. Watches every game, even when we're halfway around the world."

"Oh?" she said, her interest piqued.

"Yeah, he's obsessed. Talks about this girl he used to know—best friends when they were kids. She was apparently an incredible footballer, and he always said she'd make it big one day."

Florence's heart skipped a beat, but she kept her expression neutral. "What's his name?"

"Lando Norris," Carlos said casually, unaware of the storm he'd just unleashed inside her.

Her chest tightened, and she glanced down at her coffee, trying to process the revelation. After all these years, Lando still remembered her.

Carlos frowned slightly, studying her reaction. "Do you know him?"

Florence hesitated, then nodded. "We were best friends... a long time ago."

Carlos leaned forward, his interest clearly piqued. "Wait... you're the girl he used to talk about?"

"I don't know," she said quickly, her voice quieter now.

Carlos's eyes lit up with realization. "No way. You are. Oh, this is going to be fun."

"What do you mean?" Florence asked, narrowing her eyes.

Carlos grinned, leaning back in his chair. "Let's just say I have an idea. And don't worry—I'm very good at matchmaking."

Florence wasn't sure whether to laugh or run. One thing was certain, though: her past wasn't staying in the past for much longer.