It was a warm Sunday evening, and the city streets were bustling with people.
The lively hum of conversations reverberated through the air, blending with bursts of laughter and the occasional chant.
On the horizon, the sun dipped lower, painting the sky in a palette of warm amber and soft lavender hues. Its fading glow bathed the cityscape in a surreal light, while the towering buildings stretched their elongated shadows across the cobblestone streets.
Among the crowd, a group of rowdy supporters belted out a familiar chant:
"It's coming home, it's coming home…"
Their voices cut through the cacophony, brimming with unyielding spirit. Even among the bustling crowd, they stood out. Their jubilant chant was drawing the attention of the passersby.
Inside the stadium, the energy was palpable. Rows of seats that had been empty hours before were steadily filling with fans waving flags and wearing painted faces.
