Bruno stayed long after the last embrace faded and the crowd left him alone with the raw earth and the sinking light. His fingers pressed into the soil, as if he could anchor her presence there, refusing to accept that this was all that remained. The stadiums, the trophies, the roars of thousands had never felt as loud as the quiet of that moment.
Yet, as messages poured in and stories surfaced—how she’d helped a neighbor find work, comforted a stranger in the hospital corridor, remembered every birthday on the block—Bruno realized her love had never belonged to him alone. It lived in every life she had touched. He rose from the graveside not healed, but steadier, carrying her lessons like armor: to play bravely, to love loudly, and to walk forward knowing her faith in him would never be buried.
