Zlatan nodded approvingly.
"Now your body moves like a striker. No — like a martial artist. Like soone who can change direction in one heartbeat." He tapped his chest. "This is how legends move."
And despite everything — the stubborn lectures, the endless sparring, the kicks to the back that "trained reaction ti" — Lukas felt it.
His body was different now.
His stride. His balance. His control when absorbing contact.
Even the goal last week — slipping between defenders, catching himself with his arm and springing back into motion — that ca from here.
It hadn’t been luck.
It was training.
Real, painful, relentless training.
TT’s voice softened — just slightly.
[*You’ve co far, you know.*]
Lukas let out a slow breath.
"Yeah," he said. "I know."
He unfolded his legs slowly, smoothly — no stiffness, no hesitation — and rose to his feet.
Zlatan smirked.
"Good. Then today," he said, stepping back and raising his fist, "we work on jump power."
Lukas blinked.
"...Again?"
Zlatan simply cracked his knuckles.
[*Well then, have fun dying.*]
Lukas inhaled through his nose.
Exhaled.
And smiled.
The session resud.
The field echoed with the sound of impact, effort, and evolution — the kind of work no caras ever saw, but every stadium would feel.
* * *
The morning light filtered softly through the kitchen window, warming the air with a golden hue. Lukas stepped out of his room, rubbing his eyes, only to freeze at the sight before him.
Javi stood behind Anne at the stove, his arms loosely wrapped around her waist, chin resting lightly on her shoulder as she fried eggs. She was smiling faintly, though the faint flush on her cheeks made it clear she was aware of his presence.
For a split second, Lukas felt a wave of relief wash over him — whatever that mysterious call had been about last night, it clearly hadn’t left any cracks between them.
"Morning," Lukas greeted, stifling a yawn.
Anne turned her head slightly, still focused on the pan. "Good morning, sweetheart. Sit down, breakfast’s almost ready." She then reached behind her and playfully swatted Javi’s hand away. "And you, stop distracting . You’ll make burn this."
Javi chuckled, stepping back with exaggerated innocence. "I was just supervising. Making sure the eggs don’t rebel."
"Supervising, huh?" Lukas said as he took his seat at the table, a smirk tugging at his lips.
Anne served the food — eggs, toast, and a bit of fruit — before joining them. The air was easy, light, and dostic. For a few quiet minutes, the only sounds were forks against plates and the occasional sip of coffee.
Halfway through breakfast, Javi cleared his throat, setting his mug down. "By the way, Luke," he began, "I’ll be in Bren for your match on Saturday."
Lukas looked up mid-bite, surprised. "Really? That’s great."
Javi nodded. "Yeah. There are a few things I want to show you... and a few things I’d like to tell you while we’re there."
Lukas tilted his head slightly. "What kind of things?"
Javi gave a small smile — warm, but unreadable. "After the match. Let’s just say it’ll make more sense then."
Lukas wanted to push further, but the tone in his father’s voice told him it wasn’t the ti. Still, the question lingered quietly at the back of his mind.
The conversation drifted to lighter topics — Anne’s work schedule, Frankfurt’s next few fixtures, and Lukas’s plans to review his training footage before returning to the city.
When they finished, Anne stood, collecting the plates. "Alright, you two. Ti to move. I’ll drop you both off — Javi at TU Darmstadt, then Lukas, we’ll head to Frankfurt."
"Perfect," Javi said, finishing his coffee. "Thanks, love."
Lukas grabbed his bag by the door, slinging it over his shoulder. He glanced back once more — at Anne laughing softly as Javi teased her about packing too much into her tote — and couldn’t help smiling.
It was such a simple scene. Ordinary. Peaceful.
And yet, sowhere deep down, he could feel that Bren — and whatever his father planned to say there — might be the last ti things felt quite this simple.
* * *
The hum of the highway filled the car, a low, steady drone that almost felt like a heartbeat. Outside, the morning sun was pale and gentle, glinting off the passing trees as Anne’s sedan sliced through the open stretch between Darmstadt and Frankfurt. The air slled faintly of the vanilla air freshener clipped to the vent.
For the first few minutes, it was quiet. Not an uncomfortable silence—just the kind that exists when two people aren’t quite sure how to start a conversation. Lukas sat in the passenger seat, head leaned against the window, earphones out but phone untouched. His reflection looked calm, thoughtful.
Anne glanced at him once, then again. It struck her, in that mont, how grown he looked. He was sixteen, but his composure belonged to soone much older. She’d always admired that about him—the way he seed to carry the weight of his world so gracefully. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe he shouldn’t have to.
After a few more monts, she sighed quietly and reached for the radio dial.
"Let’s see what’s on," she said, mostly to fill the silence.
Static. Then—
♪"We wish you, a rry Christmas..."♪
Anne blinked, then snorted softly. "Oh, for heaven’s sake."
Lukas turned from the window, a crooked smile forming. "Who still plays Christmas music in April?"
"I was just thinking the sa thing," she said, switching stations.
They cycled through a few: ads, news, an overly dramatic pop ballad, but nothing worth keeping. After a few seconds of muffled static, Anne gave up and pressed the button to turn the radio off. The car fell silent again, save for the hum of the tires against the road.
Anne’s eyes drifted toward Lukas every now and then. He was still looking outside, his eyes tracking the blurred motion of the scenery as the car sped down the A5. His expression was calm, but she could sense the weight behind it — the thoughts moving, the quiet storms hidden beneath that stoic deanor.
She wanted to ask him what was on his mind. She wanted to talk, to build that bridge that she’d always imagined having with him.
Lukas had been kind to her from the beginning — warm, polite, welcoming even. Not once had he acted distant or resentful about her relationship with his father. And yet... they’d never really talked. Not beyond the surface things.
She wanted to be more than the woman who cooked breakfast when she visited.
She wanted to be soone he could co to.
After all, by the end of the year, he’d be her son — not by blood, but by heart and law.
She glanced again, just in ti to catch him noticing.
"Everything alright?" Lukas asked suddenly, turning his head slightly, breaking through the quiet.
Anne smiled, trying to make it sound casual. "Yeah. Of course. I was just wondering what you were thinking about. You looked... deep in thought."
Lukas chuckled softly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Oh. I don’t know. Just... stuff, I guess."
"What kind of stuff?"
He thought for a second, then exhaled. "Just how fast everything’s been moving, you know? A few months ago, I was just trying to make it through training and school. Now it’s like — everything’s happening at once. Football, dia, the fans... it’s a lot. Sotis I don’t even feel like I’ve processed it all."
Anne nodded. "I can imagine."
He smiled faintly. "Days like yesterday help, though. Just being ho. Being normal for a bit. I needed that."
There was sothing genuine in his tone, a softness that made Anne’s chest tighten a little. "You handle it all so well," she said. "Sotis I forget you’re sixteen."
"Yeah," Lukas said, laughing quietly. "Sotis I do too."
They both laughed, and for a few monts, it felt easy again.
Anne leaned back in her seat, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. "So," she said teasingly, "how are things with Joanna?"
Lukas turned to her, a mix of surprise and amusent on his face. "You really went there?"
"Of course," she replied, feigning innocence. "You think I don’t know about her? She’s a lovely girl, from what I’ve heard."
He grinned. "She is."
Anne smiled warmly. "I’m glad. You two seem... good together."
"Yeah, we are," Lukas said, tone quieting. "She keeps grounded, you know? Reminds that there’s life outside football."
"That’s important," Anne said. "Just promise sothing, Lukas."
He looked at her.
"If you ever need advice, or soone to talk to about... anything — career, school, girls, whatever — I’m here. You don’t have to go through everything on your own, okay?"
Lukas nodded, his expression sincere. "Thanks, Anne. Really. I appreciate that."
They shared a small, warm smile before the road reclaid the silence.
The hum of the car filled the space again. Frankfurt was still so distance away, the skyline faintly visible through the windshield as the morning light grew sharper.
Lukas leaned his head back against the seat, eyes drifting toward the road ahead. Then, after a mont, he spoke again — this ti slower, quieter, more deliberate.
"By the way," he said, turning slightly to face her, "can I ask you sothing?"
Anne glanced at him briefly, sensing the shift in tone. "Of course."
"What exactly has my dad told you about my birth mother?"
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