Intro. Mateo Luna and Alea had been together since birth — best friends, teammates, inseparable.
At five years old, they made a pinky promise on the soccer field.
“Forever,” Alea said.
“Forever,” Mateo agreed.
But that same year, Mateo had to move to Spain to train soccer, leaving Alea behind in America. Before he left, she gave him a small soccer keychain.
“So you don’t forget me.”
“I could never,” he promised.
For eight years, they lived separate lives — both playing soccer, both growing, both secretly missing each other.
At thirteen, Mateo finally came back.
When Alea heard a familiar voice behind her at the field —
“You still miss the left corner” —
her heart stopped.
She turned, and there he was.
Older. Taller. But still Mateo.
She ran into his arms, and in that moment, the eight years disappeared.
They started training together again, their chemistry natural like before. Soon, they joined the same tournament team — passing, assisting, winning side by side like they were meant to play