The noise at Anfield was deafening before the teams had even walked out. "You'll Never Walk Alone" thundered across the stands, scarves raised high, thousands of voices pouring into the night air like a battle cry. Manchester City were marching in unbeaten, 26 wins out of 26, and Liverpool's fans had decided if their team was going to stop them, they'd be needed as the twelfth man. Klopp had his players lined up in the tunnel, clapping their hands, bouncing on their toes, urging one another with little slaps on the back. Pellegrini's City, by contrast, were calm, focused. Adriano at the front with Kompany and Aguero, eyes fixed straight ahead, looked like a general leading an army.
The referee blew the whistle to send them out, and the boos immediately rained down on the light-blue shirts. City's fans, packed tightly in the corner, responded with their chants: "Come on City, come on City!" but they were drowned by the Anfield roar.
From the first touch, Liverpool pressed high. Henderson and Lallana snapped into tackles, Coutinho buzzed around Silva, and Sturridge and Firmino chased every ball like rabid dogs. City tried to settle with short passes, but Klopp's gegenpressing smothered them. In the 4th minute, Hazard dropped deep to relieve pressure, but was fouled hard by Skrtel near the halfway line. "Welcome to Anfield," Alan Smith muttered as the referee wagged a finger but kept his card pocketed.
City started probing cautiously, De Bruyne drifting to the right to combine with Kimmich and Salah. In the 7th minute, Adriano picked up the ball just inside Liverpool's half, beat Lallana with a body feint, and threaded a pass into Aguero, who spun quickly and fired low. Mignolet dived to his left and palmed it wide. The away end leapt, arms raised, thinking it might sneak in.
Liverpool hit back almost instantly. Firmino picked Kolarov's pocket on the touchline in the 10th minute and slid a ball across to Coutinho. The Brazilian chopped inside Kompany and curled toward the far corner. Hart stretched every inch and tipped it over the bar. "Oh, that's a terrific stop from Joe Hart!" Martin Tyler shouted as Anfield groaned. Kompany clapped his keeper, yelling, "Come on! Concentrate!"
The game rattled along like a storm, end to end. In the 14th minute, Salah wriggled down the right wing, got away from Moreno, and squared for Hazard at the top of the box. Hazard's left-foot strike looked destined for the corner, but Sakho lunged to block, sprawling on the turf. Pellegrini clapped politely from the sideline, then pointed for his midfield to reset shape.
The first crack came in the 19th minute. Liverpool moved the ball crisply from Henderson to Lallana, who spotted Sturridge darting between Hummels and Kolarov. One slick through ball and Sturridge was in. Kolarov, a step slow after weeks out injured, couldn't recover. Sturridge feinted, cut back onto his left, and lashed a shot toward Hart's near post. Hart got fingertips to it but not enough — the ball hit the underside of the bar and bounced in. Anfield exploded, red shirts leaping, flags whipping in the stands. Sturridge wheeled away, arms wide, sliding on his knees before teammates mobbed him. "Liverpool lead! Daniel Sturridge with a wonderful finish, and Manchester City are behind for the first time this season!" Tyler cried above the roar.
The Liverpool bench erupted, Klopp punching the air, running down the touchline fist-pumping. Pellegrini stood with arms folded, unmoved, then stepped to the edge of his technical area and barked instructions in Spanish toward Adriano and Silva. "Calma, calma! Move the ball faster!" Adriano nodded back, clapping his hands at his teammates: "Vamos, vamos, we go again!"
City tried to respond immediately. In the 22nd minute, Hazard picked the ball on the left and danced past Clyne, whipping a cross in. Aguero rose but his header glanced wide of the far post. The away fans groaned, heads in hands. Adriano jogged back, slapping Aguero on the shoulder. "Next one, hermano. Keep going."
Liverpool weren't letting up. Firmino harassed Kompany into a sloppy clearance in the 25th minute, Lallana pounced, and suddenly Hart had to save again, diving low to deny a drive from outside the box. Pellegrini paced with a grim look, shouting toward Kimmich and Robertson on the bench to warm up.
But City had too much quality to stay quiet. In the 30th minute, Adriano collected the ball under pressure from Henderson, rolled him with a spin, and accelerated through midfield. The crowd booed furiously, trying to rattle him. He ignored it, brushed past Sakho with a shoulder drop, then squared into Silva, who slipped it back into his path. Adriano tried a first-time strike, but Skrtel threw himself across, blocking with his thigh. "That's heroic defending," Smith praised as the crowd roared approval.
Then, in the 34th minute, Anfield fell silent. Silva drifted left, exchanged a quick one-two with Hazard, and slipped the ball inside to Adriano. He looked up, saw Skrtel and Sakho closing, and went at them head-on. A shimmy to the right, a drag-back with his left, and both defenders were left scrambling. He shifted onto his right foot and let fly from just outside the D. The ball arrowed into the top-right corner, beyond Mignolet's despairing dive.
The away end exploded, a wave of blue leaping into the air. Adriano didn't sprint this time. He simply stood, arms wide, soaking in the chorus of cheers from his corner of the ground and the stunned silence everywhere else. Kompany grabbed him first, then Silva, then the entire front three piled on. "It's that man again! Adriano, with ice in his veins, with magic in his boots!" Tyler exclaimed.
On the sideline, Pellegrini clapped firmly but said nothing. Klopp kicked a water bottle in frustration, screaming at his defenders to stay tight. Sakho pounded the ground in anger, Skrtel screamed at Moreno to tuck in tighter.
The tempo rose again. In the 38th minute, Sturridge nearly had another when he beat Hummels to a bouncing ball, but Hart rushed out bravely to smother. In the 42nd, Salah drove at Moreno, cut inside, and let fly — just wide. The City fans sang louder: "City, City, top of the league!"
Just before halftime, Hazard was chopped down by Clyne near the halfway line, prompting furious appeals. Adriano immediately rushed to the referee, arms out. "That's three times, ref! Three!" Silva pulled him back, whispering, "Stay calm, save your energy." Pellegrini clapped firmly from the touchline, reminding them to focus.
The whistle blew at 45 minutes plus two. The score stood at 1–1. Liverpool had given their all, the crowd had rattled the Etihad giants, but Adriano's equalizer had swung the balance back. As the players walked off, Sturridge and Firmino exchanged words with Kompany, the referee stepping between them. Adriano walked with an arm around Silva, both talking rapidly about gaps between Liverpool's midfield and defense. Klopp marched down the tunnel with arms flailing, his team buzzing around him, while Pellegrini simply patted Adriano's back and muttered, "Bien hecho, ahora paciencia."
The battle was only halfway fought.
*****
The roar when the teams re-emerged from the tunnel for the second half was deafening, almost angrier than before, as if the Liverpool faithful wanted to shake their players into even greater effort. Klopp clapped furiously on the sideline, pointing at his front three, urging them to push higher. Pellegrini, hands in his pockets, whispered quietly to Brian Kidd beside him, then raised his hand and made a slow circular gesture, instructing his midfield to keep the ball moving.
From the kick-off, both sides tore into each other with ferocity. City started with composure, Silva and De Bruyne linking with one-touch passes to pull Liverpool's pressing lines out of shape. Adriano, always hovering on the edge of danger, barked at his teammates constantly, "¡Aquí! Dame la bola!" When he didn't get it quickly enough, he snapped his hand downward in frustration, then immediately sprinted into another pocket of space, demanding the ball again.
Liverpool responded with fire of their own. Henderson flew into a tackle on Hazard in the 48th minute, sending the Belgian tumbling onto the turf. Hazard leapt up immediately, squaring to Henderson with a glare. "Oi, that's late!" he shouted. Henderson just shoved a hand toward his chest and said, "Welcome to Anfield, mate," before jogging off. The crowd cheered wildly at the aggression.
In the 51st minute, Sturridge wriggled free again down the left, leaving Kimmich scrambling. His low cross skimmed across the six-yard box, and Benteke stretched desperately but couldn't connect. Hummels clapped his hands and yelled, "Zwei! Zwei!" to Kimmich and Kompany, reminding them to stay compact. Hart pointed furiously to the gap that had opened. "Not again, lads!"
City nearly silenced Anfield in the 54th minute. Salah, quiet so far, burst into life down the right, using his speed to blow past Moreno. He whipped a cross toward Aguero, who had peeled between Skrtel and Sakho. The Argentine caught it flush on the volley, and time froze. Mignolet threw himself left, his fingertips just enough to push it onto the post. The ball bounced out, Hazard pounced, but Sakho flung himself into a desperate block, the rebound flying high over the bar. Pellegrini turned and smacked his palm against the dugout wall, muttering under his breath. Klopp, meanwhile, spun to the crowd, arms out, urging them to get even louder.
Then came the breakthrough. In the 64th minute, Salah again surged down the right. Moreno backed off, wary after being burned moments earlier. Salah slowed, feinted inside, then burst down the line anyway. A quick glance, a whipped cross, and Hazard timed his run perfectly. The Belgian ghosted between Sakho and Clyne, stretched his right foot, and clipped the ball into the far corner past Mignolet. The away end erupted in blue limbs, voices cracking with joy. Hazard sprinted toward Salah, pointing at him, before leaping into his arms. "Brilliant, Mo!" he shouted. Salah laughed, breathless, "I told you, I told you!"
Adriano joined in, slapping both of them on the head before roaring at the away fans with clenched fists. "Vamos, City!" De Bruyne raised both arms to the sky, soaking in the moment. Kompany grabbed Hazard around the neck as they jogged back, shouting in his ear, "That's why you're world class!"
Anfield, stunned for a second, responded with fury. The chants of "Liiii-ver-pool! Liiii-ver-pool!" roared louder than ever, as if to will their team back into it. Klopp was bouncing up and down on the sideline, pointing, gesturing wildly, telling his midfield to drive forward.
The game turned into chaos. In the 69th minute, Coutinho wriggled past De Bruyne and let fly from distance, forcing Hart into a full-stretch save. Sturridge tried to pounce on the rebound, but Kompany muscled him aside, both men shouting at each other as they hit the turf. The referee blew for a foul against Sturridge, prompting furious boos. Kompany wagged his finger at him, "Not strong enough today, Daniel!"
Adriano, meanwhile, grew more and more animated. In the 72nd minute, after being clipped late by Henderson, he sprang to his feet, shouting directly at the referee, "How many, huh? How many times?!" Silva quickly stepped in, pulling him away, whispering, "Leave it, leave it, focus." Adriano shook his head, chest heaving, but listened.
Liverpool weren't done. Klopp threw his arms forward, urging them higher, and in the 78th minute, they struck. Firmino drifted inside, playing a clever one-two with Coutinho. The Brazilian danced past Kimmich's late lunge, slipped into space at the edge of the box, and rifled a curling shot past Hart into the corner. The stadium exploded. Scarves whipped in the air, the Kop erupted into chaos. Klopp sprinted down the touchline pumping both fists, roaring at his players like a man possessed. Coutinho leapt into Firmino's arms, then ran toward the corner flag, beating his chest and screaming at the fans.
City players groaned, some hands on hips. Kompany gathered them quickly, shouting over the noise, "Heads up! Heads up! We go again!" Adriano clapped his hands frantically, eyes blazing. "Vamos! We take it back!" Silva tapped his shoulder and muttered, "Patience. We'll get one more."
The last ten minutes became a war zone. Tackles flew in, the referee's whistle rang constantly. Pellegrini paced anxiously, his usually calm face lined with tension. In the 82nd minute, Aguero nearly found the winner, skipping past Skrtel and forcing a block from Mignolet at point-blank range. The rebound fell to De Bruyne, who lashed it over, hands in his hair instantly.
The away fans didn't stop singing. "We're not really here," they chanted, voices echoing even against the deafening Kop. The tension in the ground was unbearable.
Then, in the 86th minute, came the moment that would be remembered. Silva, under pressure near the halfway line, spun away from Lallana with a delicate turn. He lifted his head and threaded a perfectly weighted ball through the heart of Liverpool's defense. Adriano, timing his run to perfection, broke between Skrtel and Sakho. The ball bounced once, twice. He didn't wait for it to drop. With his weaker left foot, he lashed it across Mignolet into the far bottom corner.
For a heartbeat, silence. Then the away end exploded like a volcano. Shirts twirling above heads, fans tumbling over seats, bodies piled on top of each other in ecstasy. Adriano slid on his knees toward them, arms outstretched, screaming with pure joy. Silva arrived first, wrapping his arms around him, the two of them laughing, almost disbelieving. Aguero piled on top, shouting in his ear, "Unbelievable, chico, unbelievable!" Hazard joined, smacking his chest, roaring, "That's why you're the best!"
Adriano, red-faced, veins standing out on his neck, pointed at Silva. "That pass… perfecto!" Silva just smiled, saying softly, "And that finish… only you."
Liverpool players slumped. Skrtel kicked the post, Sakho pounded the ground. Klopp jumped up and down furiously, trying to rally them, but even he looked shaken. The Kop still sang, louder than ever, but there was desperation in their voices now.
The final minutes were frantic. In the 89th, Benteke rose above Kompany, his header flying just over the bar. In stoppage time, Coutinho tried again from range, but Hummels threw himself across to block. Pellegrini finally stepped forward, waving his arms to calm his players: "Tranquilos, tranquilos!"
When the referee blew the final whistle, the City players collapsed in relief, some on their knees, some with fists pumping. The away fans celebrated like they had won a cup final, voices hoarse, scarves waving proudly. Adriano walked slowly toward them, clapping his hands above his head, before hugging Silva tightly once more. Hart rushed across the pitch to embrace Kompany, both men screaming into each other's ears over the roar.
Klopp pulled his players into a huddle immediately, arm around Coutinho, speaking quickly. Pellegrini shook his head, then gave a small smile as he shook Klopp's hand, murmuring, "Great fight, Jurgen." Klopp, breathless, just nodded.
As the City players walked toward the tunnel, Hazard turned to Adriano, still buzzing with adrenaline. "You're addicted, aren't you? The bigger the pressure, the more alive you look." Adriano smirked, sweat dripping down his face. "That's football, hermano. This is why we play."
The scoreboard behind them glowed: Liverpool 2 – 3 Manchester City.
Another battle won. The streak continued.
*****
Adriano leaned back into the couch, hair still damp from his shower, the faint scent of soap clinging to his skin. The Liverpool game was behind him now, another victory chalked into City's incredible unbeaten run, but the adrenaline still hummed faintly in his veins. He wanted comfort—not from the fans, not from the media, but from Kate.
Her face filled the screen after a couple of rings. Her hair was tied up, loose strands falling around her cheeks, and she smiled at him the way she always did—like seeing him was enough to brighten her entire day.
"Hey, superstar," she teased. "How was the match?"
Adriano laughed softly. "Not bad. Could've had a hat-trick, but their keeper decided he was prime Neuer tonight. Training was tougher, honestly. Legs are dead."
Kate tilted her head, studying him. "You don't look dead. You look smug. Did you score?"
"Two and an assist," he replied, shrugging as though it was nothing.
Kate rolled her eyes. "You're ridiculous."
"You asked," he said, grinning.
She leaned closer to the screen, lowering her voice in mock seriousness. "Well, I'm proud of you. But you already know that."
Adriano's grin softened. "Doesn't mean I don't want to hear it."
For a moment they sat in that comfortable silence, the kind that only existed between people who didn't need to fill the gaps with words. Then Adriano asked, "And what about you? How's the fashion world treating my girl?"
Kate let out a dramatic sigh, flopping backward onto her hotel bed. "Ugh. Honestly? I'm spoiled. You've ruined me. I got so used to you pampering me all the time, carrying things, bringing me food, rubbing my shoulders… now I have to actually do stuff myself. It's exhausting."
Adriano laughed, tilting his head back. "Poor thing. Sounds terrible."
"It is!" she protested. "You turned me into a lazy princess."
"Good," he shot back without missing a beat. "Means I did my job right. And hey—if it's too much, you know you can just drop it all and come home."
Kate peeked at him from under her lashes, grinning. "As much as I'd love to, I don't think my agency would be thrilled. Broken contracts equal lawsuits, and I don't want to spend your football salary on legal fees."
He smirked. "Who said you'd have to pay? I'd cover it."
"Exactly why I'm not doing it," she replied, poking her tongue out at him. "I don't want to waste your money on something that silly. Besides, it's only a few more weeks."
Adriano sighed dramatically. "Feels like years."
Kate giggled at his sulk before suddenly brightening. "Actually, you can help me with something." She twisted her phone around, showing the dresses laid out neatly across the bed. "I need to pick one for tomorrow's show. You're my stylist for the night."
Adriano leaned forward, squinting. "Alright, let's see them."
Kate stood and one by one, slipped into each dress, walking toward the phone with a mock runway strut. The red one shimmered under the light, hugging her frame.
"Well?" she asked, hands on her hips.
"You look great," Adriano said immediately.
She narrowed her eyes. "Too fast. That means you're not actually thinking about it."
He chuckled. "No, really. You'd look great in a potato sack."
"Not helpful," she groaned, disappearing to change again.
The next was black and sleek, the kind that made her seem effortlessly elegant.
"Better?" she asked.
"Different kind of great," he answered honestly, lips twitching with amusement.
"Adriano!" she whined. "You're supposed to help me choose, not just say I look good in all of them."
He smirked, eyes glinting. "I'm trying, but the moment you started changing, all the blood in my brain rushed somewhere else. Decision-making is kind of… limited right now."
Kate froze for a second, then burst into laughter, covering her mouth with her hand. "You're unbelievable."
"Not lying though," he shot back, eyes wide in mock innocence.
She shook her head, still giggling, and slipped away to change again. When she returned in a flowing blue dress, his expression shifted slightly—less teasing, more genuine admiration.
"That one," he said simply.
Kate raised an eyebrow. "Finally. Why?"
"Because," Adriano replied, leaning closer to the camera, "it's the same color as your eyes. And when you walk out in that, nobody will notice the dress anyway. They'll just be staring at you."
Kate's face softened, her cheeks flushing. "You know exactly what to say, don't you?"
"Only because it's true."
She smiled, satisfied at last. "Blue it is then."
Adriano leaned back, stretching his arms behind his head. "So… when are you coming back?"
Kate pursed her lips, tilting her head playfully. "Hmm. Not telling."
"Kate." His voice dropped into that warning tone he used sometimes, the one that always made her laugh.
She winked. "You'll just have to wait. Consider it good practice for patience."
He groaned dramatically. "I'm not patient. I'm lonely. If you don't come back soon, who knows… I might be tempted by the next pretty fan that flashes me."
Kate's jaw dropped in mock offense, her eyes narrowing. "Excuse me?"
Adriano couldn't keep a straight face, chuckling as he held up his hands in surrender. "Joking! Joking!"
"Good," Kate said with mock severity. "Because if you ever did that, I'd fly straight back, and you know what I'd do?"
"What?"
She leaned closer to the camera, lowering her voice. "I'd kick your balls like a football. And trust me, I'd aim for top corner."
Adriano laughed so hard he nearly dropped the phone. "Okay, okay! Message received loud and clear. No pretty fans. Only you."
Kate folded her arms, pretending to pout. "That's better."
Then, as if she'd been waiting for the perfect moment, Kate smirked and let her clothes drop to the floor in one fluid motion. She posed toward the phone, bare and confident, watching Adriano's eyes go wide and his throat work as he swallowed hard.
"What are you doing?" he croaked.
"Reward system," she said smoothly, holding his gaze through the camera. "Since you've been a good boy, you get a preview. The rest… you'll have to wait for."
Adriano dragged a hand down his face, groaning. "You're evil. Do you realize how hard it is not to wake the pilot right now and take the jet to you?"
Kate's laugh rang through the line. "That's the idea. Consider this… motivation."
"Motivation to what? Go insane?"
"Motivation to win your next match," she countered, grinning. "Maybe I'll give you another reward if you score a hat-trick."
Adriano stared at her, torn between frustration and amusement. "You're going to kill me."
"Worth it," she said smugly.
They both dissolved into laughter after that, the tension melting into the kind of easy warmth that made the distance feel just a little smaller.
The conversation drifted after that—Adriano talking about the mood in the dressing room, Kate sharing little stories from backstage at the fashion show. They teased each other, laughed, and filled the silences with the comfort of people who didn't need to perform for each other.
Eventually, Kate stifled a yawn. "I should sleep. Early call tomorrow."
Adriano nodded, though he didn't want to hang up. "Yeah. Rest up, angel."
"Don't miss me too much," she teased gently.
"Too late."
She smiled softly, eyes lingering on him through the screen. "Goodnight, Dear."
"Goodnight, Babe."
The call ended, and for a long moment Adriano just sat there on the couch, staring at the darkened screen, already counting the days until she was back.
******
Adriano's Stats 2015-16 Season
Premier League
Match: 24
Goals: 39
Assists: 18
Champions League
Match:6
Goal: 12
Assist: 5
Community Shield
Match: 1
Goals : 2
Assists: 2
Capital One Cup
Match: 4
Goal: 7
Assists: 3
Euro Qualifiers
Match: 6
Goals: 8
Assist: 5