It was 2 days since the epic clash at the Spotify Camp Nou.
The bruising El Clasico was over, and as the rave about Lamine Yamal's hattrick died, that was when attention returned to the King… Samuel Moses.
That was when it settled in that for the first time all season, Sam walked off the pitch with nothing on the scoreboard. No goal, no assist, just the sting of a reckless elbow that left a shallow gash on his cheeckbone and a deeper one on his pride, or so people thought.
But still, Barcelona was buzzing. Clasico nights always lingered in the city like perfume, but while the city boiled, Sam slipped away from all the noise.
No press conferences, no headlines, no talk of golden boots, no Ballon d'Or talks. Just a short pause. Two days of quiet with Kayla.
They checked into the Hotel Miramar, perched high above Montjuic, overlooking the city like royalty in exile.
