Endrick was not born to wait. He was born to run, to fight, to feel the ball live at his feet. And yet, for eight matches, the young Brazilian has been living the exact opposite: stagnation. A crossroads of silence, where every match passes like a punishment. The bench has become his cage, and Real Madrid, which once seemed like his great dream, is starting to look like a trap.

The Clásico at the Bernabéu was the turning point. Where every footballer wants to make history, Endrick lived the heaviest silence of his career. He didn't play a single minute. When the whistle blew and the tension spilled out onto the grass, he was left sitting, staring blankly, lost in his own dream. The cameras almost ignored him; he was invisible in the storm. But he was in as much pain as anyone.

When the lights went down and the stadium emptied, Edric was left alone. He did the usual exercises for the "inactive", those who hadn't played a minute. It was the only way to get on the pitch. Alone, in the centre of the Bernabeu, in a scene that looked more like a confession than a training session.

A year ago, the world belonged to him: 7 goals in 840 minutes, the child prodigy of the new era. Now, he doesn't even have the right to participate. The excitement has faded, replaced by something deeper and more dangerous — a silent despair. The kind that consumes footballers who can't bear to watch games pass them by.