God Of football

Chapter 717: Next Round.

The car rolled to a gentle stop before the gates of the apartment complex, as a guard proceeded to check a few things before letting them in.

Izan barely looked up, shoulders slightly hunched, eyes glued to the small screen in his palm.

His thumb tapped twice to brighten the display again.

The FA Cup quarterfinal was still alive on his phone, Arsenal pushing for a late equaliser against Aston Villa.

On-screen, Bukayo Saka cut inside with a touch that lifted the crowd at Villa Park, and Izan leaned forward in his seat instinctively, watching his teammate strike low and true—only for the Villa’s keeper, Emiliano Martinez, to stretch out a leg and deny him.

A groan escaped Izan before he could stop it, head dropping back against the headrest.

The gate closed behind them as Collie rolled into the underground car park, smooth and shadowy.

”Come on, guys...” he muttered, his voice low enough to get lost beneath the chatter in the back.

He dragged his eyes toward the top corner of the screen.

88:04.

Time was running out, and fast.

His chest tightened just as the referee signalled for a corner.

Izan’s attention sharpened as Declan Rice jogged across the pitch on his screen, placing the ball down in the corner arc.

The familiar calm in Rice’s movements almost settled him—until the delivery whipped in at pace, curling perfectly toward the near post, and that was where Calafiori rose highest, his header thudding the ball against the netting.

”Yesss!” Izan hissed, the sound spilling out just as he swung open the car door.

In the same motion, his bag slid off his shoulder and thumped against the polished floor.

He let it fall, momentarily uncaring, as he watched his teammates erupt in celebration through the glow of the phone screen.

The elevator doors ahead pinged open with a crisp note, throwing a warm golden reflection across the marble-tiled entrance.

Behind him, the trio—Hori, Komi, and Olivia—were still deep in their conversation, voices bubbling with laughter as they discovered their shared admiration for a certain musician.

The sort of fast bond only extroverted women could strike up in minutes, like they’d known each other far longer than the ride from the airport.

Their laughter dipped when they noticed him, all three pairs of eyes flicking toward Izan just as he bent down to reclaim his bag.

He, on the other hand, said nothing while his headphones were still snugged over his ears, commentary spilling into him:

”—and Arsenal have found their breakthrough! What a huge goal in the 89th minute from Riccardo Calafiori, his first in the competition!”

Izan slung the strap back onto his shoulder, pulling the main luggage behind while keeping his gaze fixed downward to avoid the curious stares.

With a small adjustment of his phone in hand, he stepped past them into the elevator, silence clinging to him even as the celebration rumbled through his ears.

The doors slid closed, cutting off the echo of the underground lot, and inside the small mirrored space, he caught his own reflection smiling like a kid who had met Santa Claus in person.

Eventually, the elevator gave a smooth chime before sliding open, spilling them into a quiet corridor where soft lighting washed across cream walls and polished wooden floors.

Their assigned apartment wasn’t far down, a sleek door with a keypad lock that clicked open after a short buzz from Collie’s card.

Inside, the place was tastefully done.

Not overly flashy, but modern in the way expensive apartments usually were.

A spacious lounge spread out in front of them with a clean-lined sofa set, muted tones, and just enough warmth in the wood panelling to keep it from feeling sterile.

The far wall was almost entirely glass, revealing a night view that stretched over the Pacific, its dark waves catching faint shards of light as if the ocean were studded with glass.

”Wow,” Olivia murmured, drifting further in, her hand brushing over the edge of a counter before she tilted her head toward the view.

Hori, meanwhile, strode in with the quiet air of someone testing ownership, her Ugg boots clicking lightly against the floor as she wandered from one side of the lounge to the hallway that split into two bedrooms.

Without hesitation, she pushed open the larger room, stepped inside, and, after a brief look around, dropped her suitcase squarely on the bed like a flag planted into claimed territory.

Olivia glanced at her with a small shake of the head, half amusement, half disbelief.

”Already?”

”What?” Hori leaned against the frame, an eyebrow raised. ”Someone had to.”

Izan, uninterested in the tug-of-war, slumped onto the sofa and tapped his phone screen.

The glow reflected across his face as he slipped his headset back on.

The extra-time whistle had gone a while ago, and both teams were trying not to lose momentum or their edge.

”This is going to pens,” he said as he leaned back into the cushions, scrolling the playback slightly to catch a foul on Odegaard.

A faint groan left him at the sight of the referee calling play on after Nwaneri was bodied illegally off the ball.

The door opened again behind them as Collie stepped in with a tablet tucked under her arm, her blazer now off and her hair slightly looser than before.

She gave the room a brisk glance, then addressed them with the kind of efficiency that carried authority without coming off cold.

”Alright, here’s what you need to know,” she began, setting the tablet down on the counter.

”Reception’s open twenty-four-seven, anything you need, you call down. Housekeeping is on the fifth floor if you’d rather ask in person. Room service works until midnight, though the fridge is stocked enough for now. If anything comes up, ring me first—I’m quicker than the desk.”

She pointed a thumb over her shoulder toward the balcony.

”Also, lock that sliding door at night. Security’s tight, but still I have seen way too many Tom Cruise movies.”

Her eyes flicked toward Hori as the girl reappeared from the hallway. Collie’s mouth tugged into a small smirk, almost conspiratorial, and she gave a wink before tucking the tablet back under her arm.

”You’ve got a long day ahead of you tomorrow, so I’d suggest some rest if you want to actually enjoy the concert instead of dragging yourselves through it.”

”Got it,” Olivia said, nodding, still half turned toward the glass wall while

Izan pulled one earphone free just long enough to glance up and mutter, ”Thanks.”

His gaze lingered only a second before he dropped it back to his phone screen, where the players on it were huddling for the switch in extra time, sweat pouring, bodies heavy.

”Good.” Collie gave them a light wave before slipping back out, the door closing softly behind her.

The apartment settled into its own quiet rhythm as Olivia drifted toward the balcony, the sound of waves faint through the glass.

Hori busied herself with unzipping her suitcase, tossing clothes onto the chair as if she already owned the space while taking a few selfies in the process.

And Izan, settled deep into the couch, put his headset back on, the muffled roar of the crowd rising again in his head as the second half of extra time began.

Olivia eventually drifted back from her quiet wandering, easing herself down beside Izan on the couch.

He didn’t shift much, eyes still locked on the glow of the screen, but his arm moved instinctively, wrapping around her waist as she fit snugly into his side.

The room was calm except for the muffled roar of the crowd pouring through his headset, the FA Cup tie now balanced on the thin edge of penalties.

Olivia tilted her chin slightly, following the screen even though she wasn’t entirely invested in the details.

Still, she could feel the tension in him—how his breathing slowed between spot kicks, how his thumb lightly tapped against her arm whenever the camera panned to a player walking up and kicking a ball.

One by one, the penalties came and went, each one pressing down harder.

Izan hadn’t moved an inch, jaw tight, eyes sharp, living it the way only a footballer could.

And then—Amadou Onana stepped up.

The strike went wide, scraping the outside of the post as the away fans let out sighs and gasps while Izan exhaled.

He had been holding a long exhale that loosened his whole frame.

Moments later, Nwaneri buried his kick into the back of the net, rippling it as the commentators roared, and Arsenal were through to the semi-finals.

Olivia leaned closer, her voice barely above a whisper.

”Congratulations.”

Izan turned his head just enough to catch her eyes. ”Thank you,” he murmured, softer than usual, before lowering his lips to her forehead, then her nose, and at last to her mouth—

And it hung there, suspended.

A/N: Guys, have this for now. I will see you when I wake up with the Chapters I promised we would catch up with, including a bonus GT Chapter, so why don’t you keep spamming the GT Chapter for your bonus Chapters.