[The Day after]
The stairs creaked once as Izan descended barefoot, hoodie loose over his frame, one hand sliding lazily down the glass balustrade.
It had been almost 14 hours after the match, but that didnât stop his phone from blitzing with notifications like it wanted to get out.
In the quiet of his room, heâd taken a single breath before calling up the system with a whisper of will.
A vial materialised from thin airâsleek, clear, humming slightly with that same strange presence only he could feel as he took out his conditioning fluid.
He downed it without a sound as the warmth spread instantly, tight through his spine, his limbs, a chemical reassurance that bought him a few more hours of not looking breakable.
And now, barefoot with eyelids low, he stepped into the heart of the house.
The kitchen buzzed with small life.
Komi and Miranda sat at the island, coffee in hand, with the other two girls barely dressed to begin their Sunday.
"Morning," Izan said as he passed behind them, heading to the fridge.
"Afternoon," Komi corrected, eyes flicking to the clock.
Olivia smirked.
"You look rosy this morning. Did you sleep well?"
"I had a dream of winning the league with Arsenal," Izan replied, grabbing a bottle of cold water.
"But barely. I hope thatâs not the same in real life."
He settled into the corner of the island, elbow on the marble, and let the sounds wash over himâdistant birds outside, soft clink of cutlery, the hum of the kettle.
Then Miranda cleared her throat.
"Izan."
He looked up.
"I know things are... dense right now. Between donation prep, match rotation, media watching your every blinkâ"
"âAnd online detectives saying heâs pale because heâs secretly a vampire," Hori added helpfully.
Miranda ignored her.
"But thereâve been a few opportunities. Good ones."
Izan didnât speak, but his gaze stayed steady.
"Two branding campaigns and one modelling offer. Oneâs a boots advertisement with Adidas. The otherâcreative. Storytelling-based. Global reach."
Komi arched a brow. "Now?"
"No," Miranda said immediately.
"I paused everything. Told them you werenât available for press runs or shortlists until further notice."
Izan blinked once, slowly.
"You paused?"
"I did."
She sipped her tea.
"But I still wanted you to know they came. Because even if youâre not at your best, they see you. So we will wait till after the donation. I just wanted to keep you in the mix."
Izan exhaled quietly, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
"Thanks," he said, after a beat.
"For handling it."
Miranda nodded with a smile.
"Let me know when youâre ready to look at them again. Or if you ever want me to say no before they even ask."
"I trust you," he said.
The table quieted again.
Then Hori raised a hand.
"Can I do the boot ad if heâs not interested?"
"No," came three voices at once.
Hori grumbled into her yoghurt again while Olivia giggled, flipping her spoon at her.
"We should go somewhere," Izan said, tilting the empty juice glass in hand before setting it down.
Everyone looked up.
"Go where?" Komi asked, fork paused halfway to her mouth, before resuming her action.
"Anywhere thatâs not training, press, or physio," Izan said.
"Just out. For a bit."
Miranda gave him a measured glance from behind her mug.
"You mean today?"
"Maybe." He leaned forward.
"Itâs still early in the day", he muttered, pointing at the clock on the island.
Hori was already frowning.
"So, no plan? You just woke up and decided we should all go somewhere because the vibes said so?"
Izan shrugged. "Kind of."
Olivia leaned forward, arms folded across the table.
"What kind of âsomewhereâ? Road trip? Hidden cafĂ©? Abandoned airfield with go-karts?"
"Honestly? Donât care." He looked at her before recalling something.
"Werenât your parents supposed to come today?"
She blinked.
"Oh. Yeah, noâtheyâre not anymore. The wedding got moved."
"Moved?" Komi asked.
"To Bali," Olivia said.
"Long story. Something about the brideâs brother living there and the venue being cheaper than London."
"Cheaper than London?" Komi sat back.
"I need to vacation somewhere where weddings are too."
"You and me both," Miranda muttered.
"But youâre the one who works twelve hours a day," Hori said.
"Where would you find the time?"
"Peace," Olivia called, waving her spoon like a flag.
"Izanâs the one who suggested something for once. Should we actually consider it?"
Miranda looked at Izan carefully. "You feeling okay?"
He hesitated. "Enough."
"Well, letâs get dressed then," Komi said, as the others followed suit.
"Why do I feel like I wonât like what I suggested?" Izan muttered as he got up and followed Olivia.
.......
The CBS Sports studio, as always, glowed in the soft blue wash of LED lights, the desk gleaming under the halo of the overhead rigs.
Behind it, the massive touchscreen panel cycled through graphicsâscores, highlights, and slow-motion replaysâall with the kind of cinematic polish that suggested something important had just happened.
Because it had.
Micah Richards was the first to speak as the camera slowly panned toward the panel.
His grin wide, and his voice bubbling with a mix of disbelief and excitement.
"I mean, who had Club Brugge sending Atalanta home? Fiveâtwo on aggregate? Thatâs not a scrapâitâs a statement."
"Yeah, but thatâs exactly what this format invites now, isnât it?" Jamie Carragher cut in, leaning forward on his elbows.
"No home comfort in a second leg. You donât show up on both nights, youâre gone. Itâs brutalâbut I love it."
Kate Abdo, seated between them, nodded as the screen flipped to PSGâs demolition job over Brest.
Tenânil.
"PSG certainly didnât need both legs," she said, tilting her head slightly.
"That wasnât a playoffâthat was a parade."
Henry chuckled under his breath, folding his arms.
"Enriqueâs men looked like they were playing a testimonial," he said.
"But itâs the Brugge one I keep coming back to. That was football with purpose. High press. Composure. Atalanta didnât even look badâthey just got outworked."
Micah raised a brow.
"And donât forget Juventus. PSV snatching it 4â3 over two legs? That second leg in Eindhoven was madness. Goal in the 98th. Juve were booking hotels for the next round before the shot even left his foot."
"Classic PSV, though," Kate added.
"Backs against the wall, the crowd roaring, then bangâone moment and theyâre through. But Milan?" She shook her head.
"Donât start," Henry warned, lips twitching.
"AC Milan," she repeated.
"One goal across two legs. Feyenoord shut them down like theyâd studied every Rossoneri touch from the last two months."
Jamie nodded grimly.
"It was calculated. And it worked. Milan looked toothless. Youâd think they were the away team both nights."
The screen cycled through againâReal Madrid flashing up next, their 6â3 triumph over Manchester City emblazoned in gold text.
"They didnât just beat them," Jamie muttered. "They humbled them."
Micah whistled. "You can talk about tactics and rotations all day, but when Madrid smell blood in Europe..."
"They feast, and Mbappe was on top that game." Henry finished.
"So City,?" Kate asked, glancing around. "What now for them?"
"They focus on finding a good place in the league because the title fight is between Arsenal and Liverpool," Micah said with a shrug, but not without sympathy.
As if sensing the conversationâs pivot, the screen shifted again.
The newly drawn Round of 16 bracket appeared, bold and balanced, one fixture falling into place at a time.
PSV Eindhoven vs Arsenal.
Paris Saint-Germain vs Liverpool.
Real Madrid vs Atlético Madrid.
Bayern Munich vs Bayer Leverkusen.
Benfica vs Barcelona.
Borussia Dortmund vs Lille.
Club Brugge vs Aston Villa.
Feyenoord vs Inter Milan.
A beat of silence passed as the panel took it in.
Kate was the first to speak.
"This is... fresh. Look at these matchups. Youâve got PSV facing an Arsenal team chasing their peak. Liverpool having to go through Paris. And RealâAtleti? Thatâs not a tie. Thatâs a war."
"Madrid will love it," Henry said.
"But donât count out Atleti. Simeone thrives on making things ugly. And if anyone knows how to frustrate Real in Europe, itâs him."
Micah grinned.
"But Iâm looking at Brugge. No oneâs talking about them, and theyâve got Villa now. Thatâs two high-energy teams who press hard and punish mistakes."
"LeverkusenâBayern too," Jamie pointed out.
"Thatâs a domestic grudge match in a continental arena. Kompanyâs under pressure. If Alonso gets through that, people are going to be asking serious questions."
Kate turned back to the panel, a knowing look in her eye.
"And what about Arsenal?"
Micah exhaled through his teeth.
"Izanâs sitting on 15 goals in the UCL already. 2 goals more from equalising Ronaldoâs 17-goal record, and I think history will be made. And if PSV thought Juventus were hard... theyâre not ready for that boy."
"Assuming heâs fit," Henry added carefully.
"The way he came off against Leicester and then not even starting both games against Newcastle and then West Hamâ"
"Yeah, but that free kick," Jamie cut in.
"You donât curl one like that if your legs are cooked. That was madness."
Kate smiled as the lights subtly dimmed to let the bracket shine.
"Champions League Round of 16," she said, voice low, reverent.
"New format. New drama. No safety nets. Itâs all to fight for on the road to
Munich
"
And with the screen freezing on the matchups, the session ended.
A/N: One for the day. Thanks for reading.