Chapter 68 – The Road That Opens
The morning air in Penedono was still wrapped in a veil of thin mist, clinging stubbornly to the hills and whispering through the narrow dirt lanes of the village. Last night's rain had left the soil damp, soft, and heavy with the smell of earth. Chickens scratched around the yards, women swept porches, and the faint aroma of freshly baked bread drifted from open kitchen windows.
At the edge of the village, where a broad patch of ground had been cleared years ago to serve as an improvised football field, Diogo Jota—now simply known to everyone here as Jota—stood silently, staring at the uneven surface. His breath came out in little clouds, and his fingers tightened on the ragged hem of his shirt.
