Krstović stood over the penalty spot, the entire world shrinking to that small, painted circle and the net that lay just twelve yards ahead. The roar of the crowd that had filled San Siro moments earlier faded, melting into a hush so deep, it felt like even the air was holding its breath. It wasn't silence. Not truly. But it was the sound of a thousand hearts pounding, lungs tightening, voices stilled.
He'd been here before.
Not this exact moment, not this exact stadium. But he'd stood under pressure. Missed chances that haunted his dreams. Watched the eyes of teammates, coaches, and fans fill with disappointment. That pain had branded him. But tonight, tonight felt different. Tonight he had more than his own name on the line. He had belief behind him.
