January 3rd, 2015.
The winter break was over.
Mateo stood at the departure gate at Barcelona-El Prat Airport, his carry-on bag slung over his shoulder, his heart heavy with the bittersweet ache of leaving. Isabella stood beside him, her hand in his, her eyes red-rimmed but smiling.
"I hate this part," she said softly. "The goodbyes."
"Me too," Mateo signed. "But it's only for a little while. You'll come visit soon, right?"
"Of course," Isabella said. "I'll be there for the Bayern match. I wouldn't miss it for the world."
Mateo pulled her into a tight embrace, breathing in the familiar scent of her perfume, memorizing the feel of her in his arms. When they finally pulled apart, he cupped her face in his hands and signed, "I love you. Thank you for this break. For everything."
"I love you too," Isabella whispered. "Now go. Go be brilliant. Go make history."
