Barca's Proposal

Elian was tying the laces of his sneakers when his phone buzzed on the bedside table. He glanced at the screen. "Manager".

He sighed. It was early—too early for anything casual. With a tired grunt, he picked up the phone and answered.

"Yeah?"

"Elian, we need to talk," his manager's voice came through, sharp and urgent.

Elian sat up straighter. "What's up?"

There was a brief pause before the man continued. "Barcelona wants an answer. Now."

That woke him up properly. He rubbed his face, pushing his thoughts together. "Already? I thought we had more time to think about it."

"Time?" His manager scoffed. "This is football, kid. When a top club like Barcelona comes knocking, they don't wait around for second thoughts."

Elian let out a slow breath, rolling his shoulders. "What about Madrid?"

"They're still interested, but they're not as aggressive. Barcelona sees you as their main signing. They want to build around you."