Christmas Eve at Casa de los Niños was always magical, but this year felt different. The orphanage was transformed twinkling lights adorned every window, a beautifully decorated tree stood in the common room, and the smell of Sister Maria Elena's famous turrón and polvorones filled the air. But beyond the decorations, there was an energy, an excitement that seemed to pulse through the very walls of the building.
Mateo had been planning this for months.
He stood in the courtyard early that morning, watching as a small convoy of vans pulled up to the gates. Professional coaches from various Barcelona youth academies stepped out, carrying equipment bags and wearing warm smiles. Mateo had reached out to them weeks ago, calling in favors, making arrangements, ensuring that everything would be perfect.
Don Carlos appeared at his side, his eyes wide with surprise. "Mateo, what is all this?"
