He didn't say Lukas's name.
He didn't need to.
Everyone knew who he meant.
"That happens. It's football. What matters is how we move forward."
He stepped further in, folding his arms.
"We cannot win every game. No club in the world does. What we can do is move on quickly, because in five days—"
He paused.
"—we have the most important match of our season waiting for us."
Heads lifted. Eyes sharpened.
"The Europa League quarterfinal. First leg. At home. Against Athletic Club."
A ripple of focus moved through the room.
Toppmöller looked directly at Lukas this time.
"We put today behind us. All of us. We regroup, we train, and we go again. We still have dreams in every competition. Don't forget that."
Lukas breathed out slowly, the weight on his shoulders easing; not gone, but lighter.
The disappointment remained.
But the fire was still there too.
Guilded by expectation.
Fanned by ambition.
