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... swung open under the cold kiss of a Manchester morning. fгeewёbnoѵel.cσm

Mist clung low over, but inside the training ground, there was warmth. Laughter echoed off the walls, boots squeaked against polished floors, and the thudding rhythm of a ball being juggled filled the indoor dome.

They were back.

The euphoria of the dramatic qualification night still lingered faintly—smiles, banter, tired high-fives. But it wouldn’t last long.

Amorim didn’t believe in standin ...

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