God Of football

Chapter 795: Germany Again.

Olivia was still giggling at something Izan had whispered as the duo made their way downstairs.

”You’re ridiculous,” she muttered between little bursts of laughter, shaking her head as they reached the bottom step.

”I mean it, though,” Izan fired back, the corner of his mouth tugging into a smug half-smile.

The two of them drifted toward the dining room table, a piece of furniture that rarely saw use, more decorative than practical.

Usually, they wolfed down breakfast at the kitchen island, plates clinking against glass while standing half-turned toward the stove.

But today, plates had been set on the dining table, sunlight spilling in through the curtains and stretching across the polished surface.

Komi was already seated, calm as ever, cutting into her eggs with small, deliberate motions.

Hori sat a few chairs down, slouched in her chair with her legs on it, still in her oversized tee, chewing lethargically.

”Morning,” Izan said smoothly, leaning down to plant a kiss on Hori’s cheek as he slid into the seat beside her.

She swatted at him lazily but didn’t pull away fast enough.

”Ugh, why?” she groaned, wiping her cheek with the back of her hand.

Izan glanced at Miranda’s empty chair, tilting his head.

”Where’s Miranda?”

”She had to leave early,” Komi replied, eyes still on her plate as Izan planted a kiss on her cheek.

”Something came up.”

”Mm.” Izan leaned back in his chair, then turned to look at Hori’s plate.

”So... you already ate before you even bathed or brushed your teeth, huh?”

Hori’s chewing slowed.

”So?” she mumbled defensively, mouth half-full.

”You’re a foodie,” Izan teased, voice light, ”you should probably thank Mom for her genes. Anyone else and you’d be rolling by now with how much you eat.”

Hori set her fork down with a sharp clink, turning her face toward him, glaring.

But she didn’t take the bait.

Instead, she exhaled hard through her nose and picked up her fork again, muttering something under her breath.

Across the table, Komi gave a small shake of her head and gestured vaguely in Hori’s direction, her voice low, meant only for Izan.

”She’s on her period.”

But Hori’s head snapped up instantly.

”MOM!”

The roar made Izan nearly choke on his own laughter, while Olivia slapped a hand over her mouth to stifle hers.

”I did not need you to tell him that!” Hori groaned, her face pink, her fork now stabbing aimlessly at her scrambled eggs.

Komi lowered her head, calmly returning to her food as though nothing had happened.

She chewed, serene as ever, while her daughter continued to grumble at the table.

Izan drummed his fingers lightly against the wood.

”Anyway,” he said, switching gears.

”Selene’s in town. Doing some project of her own. She asked if her muse could be around.”

Hori looked up briefly at that, her interest caught for just a second before she went back to poking her food.

”And you’re going, I guess?” Olivia said, catching the idea.

”Probably.”

Izan shrugged, feigning casual indifference.

”She’ll have outfits and bags there, too. But, I mean...” He leaned back dramatically.

”Wouldn’t even know who to give them to, if I took any.”

That earned him a sharp side-eye from Hori, who pressed her lips into a thin line, refusing to bite.

”I’ll take them,” Olivia chimed in sweetly, now sliding into the chair beside Izan, her chin propped on her palm as she gave him a playful smile.

”Oh, please,” Hori fired back immediately, rolling her eyes.

”Don’t you have class or something?”

Olivia’s smirk widened. ”I could skip it...”

”No.” Hori cut her off sharply, stabbing her fork into her plate with finality.

”You’re not skipping. I’ll go with him. End of story.”

Komi’s lips curved ever so slightly as she took another sip of her tea, clearly entertained by the back-and-forth.

”Then you’d better be quick with your food and your shower,” she said gently.

”Your brother and his girlfriend seem finished already.”

That jab made Hori narrow her eyes at her plate.

But she didn’t argue.

Instead, she began eating larger mouthfuls, almost shovelling food into her mouth, though her usual snail-like pace still clung to her.

It was a strange mix of urgency and stubborn slowness, as if she wanted to hurry but refused to look rushed.

Within minutes, she pushed back her chair, stood, and stomped her way upstairs as Izan exhaled, shaking his head with a grin.

Olivia leaned her chin against his shoulder, still giggling softly at the scene while Komi simply kept eating, her face calm, but her eyes gleamed faintly with amusement.

.....

[That evening]

The front door clicked open, and the soft shuffle of shoes against the marbled floor signalled Izan and Hori’s return.

The late evening air still clung to their clothes, carrying a faint trace of city bustle with it as they stepped into the hallway.

Izan had his hands in his pockets, shoulders relaxed, while Hori’s arms were straining slightly under the weight of shopping bags she refused to let go of, her expression equal parts smug and satisfied.

”Finally back,” she sighed, kicking off her sneakers, though she still made sure the bags stayed upright.

The house was quiet, save for the hum of voices coming from the living room.

When the two of them walked in, they found Komi, Olivia, and Miranda sprawled across the large sofa and armchairs.

The three women were caught in the glow of the television, eyes fixed on a dating reality show where too-tanned contestants on some vague island argued and made confessions under string lights.

None of them looked particularly invested, but their gazes lingered on the screen in that absent, background way only such shows could manage.

Komi was closest, but still far from the door, legs folded neatly beneath her.

Olivia sat cross-legged with her iPad balanced on her knees, stylus moving as she tapped through some notes or designs while Miranda, for once, looked relaxed, phone in hand but idle, her expression neutral as she tracked the messy drama unfolding on TV.

Komi glanced up first when she heard them.

”How did it go?” she asked, voice calm, as if she already knew the answer.

”Good,” Izan replied simply, rolling his shoulders as he dropped his keys onto the side table by habit and crossed further into the room.

”Great,” Hori chimed in with far more enthusiasm, raising her haul slightly.

The glossy branded bags swayed with the motion, catching the light.

”Look at these. Totally worth it.”

Izan only shook his head with a faint smile, already making his way toward Olivia.

She didn’t even look up at first, still scribbling something on the tablet.

But when he slid down beside her, close enough that their shoulders brushed, she finally tilted her head toward him, her lips curving in a knowing smile.

”You’re back,” she said softly, her attention flicking back to her screen, though her free hand shifted to rest on his knee.

Across the room, Hori walked toward Komi, plopping herself down beside her with a satisfied huff.

”Unfilial son,” she muttered, gesturing toward Izan, who had already sunk comfortably into Olivia’s side.

Komi chuckled at that, shaking her head.

”It was always going to happen,” she said, her tone warm, teasing. ”You can’t expect to keep him all to yourself forever.”

Olivia lifted her gaze briefly at that, smiling wryly, her thumb brushing lightly over Izan’s leg.

Izan only smirked faintly, leaning back against the couch as if he hadn’t heard.

For a while, the five of them sat like that, the quiet hum of the television filling the air.

None of them spoke much as Hori dug through one of her bags idly, pulling out a scarf and draping it around her neck while showing a few to Komi.

Olivia’s stylus tapped softly as she resumed her work while Izan glanced at the screen now and then, his expression caught between amusement and disbelief at the exaggerated antics on the show.

Until Miranda’s phone buzzed against the armrest, the vibration sharp in the otherwise steady rhythm of the room.

She glanced down, brow furrowing, before answering.

Her conversation was brief, a few polite acknowledgements, her voicecalm but clipped.

But then her eyes shifted toward Izan, her expression tightening with something more serious.

”I’ll give the phone to him,” she said finally, before lowering the device and extending it toward him.

Izan frowned slightly, leaning forward to take it.

”Who is it?” he asked, voice low, his eyes narrowing as he mouthed the question silently, but Miranda didn’t answer.

She only pressed the phone into his hand as the voice on the other end made it clear a moment later.

”Hola, Izan.”

It was Arteta.

His tone was polite but carried the faint weight of urgency. ”Sorry for disturbing your evening.”

Izan adjusted his posture slightly, sitting upright. ”Mister. No, it’s fine.”

Arteta didn’t waste time.

”I wanted to tell you directly. Barcelona travelled to Germany today. They’ve gone early, six days ahead of the final. So, we’ll be leaving tomorrow evening as well. I tried to mention it earlier today, but I couldn’t reach you properly.”

Izan’s free hand went to the back of his neck as realisation settled in.

He nodded slightly, though Arteta couldn’t see it.

”Right. My phone was on DND. I didn’t see the calls.”

”It’s okay,” Arteta replied quickly, his voice steady.

”Just start packing your things tonight or tomorrow morning. We’ll see you at the training ground before we leave.”

”Yes, Mister,” Izan said.

”Good. See you tomorrow.”

The line clicked off with that, leaving Izan staring at the phone for a moment before lowering it.

When he finally looked up, four pairs of eyes were already on him.

He set the phone on the table, exhaling. ”We’re leaving for Germany tomorrow.”

Olivia blinked, surprise flickering across her face.

”Tomorrow? I thought you weren’t flying out until Friday.”

”That was the plan,” Izan admitted, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

”But Barcelona arrived today. They’re not giving us the head start, so we’re not going to let them sit there waiting for us either.”