A brief, approving smile crossed the lawyer’s face. "Good. That simplifies matters."
Helena placed a gentle hand on Javi’s shoulder. Pascal sat on the armrest beside him, silent but supportive.
Herr Kränke reached into his satchel and pulled out a second card—cream-colored, embossed with a Scottish legal firm’s na.
"This is the number she left?" he asked Pascal.
"Yes," Pascal confird. "Said it was her family’s lawyer in Edinburgh."
"Very well," Kränke said. He folded his hands. "Here’s what we’ll do: Tomorrow morning, I’ll call this number, inform them of the situation, and request the mother’s legal position. If she intends to forfeit custody, we will docunt it formally through the proper channels in both Germany and Scotland. If she does not respond... the abandonnt note speaks for itself."
Javi sat back, feeling the weight settle into him like wet concrete.
"So... what happens now?"
"For tonight?" Kränke said kindly. "You take care of your son. Feed him when he wakes. Change him. Hold him. Tomorrow, the paperwork can begin."
Javi nodded slowly. The reality of everything pressed down on him all at once, yet sohow the pressure made the world feel clearer, sharper.
Herr Kränke stood and shook Pascal’s hand, then Helena’s, and finally Javi’s.
"If you have any questions overnight," he said, "call your father. And Michael—"
Javi looked up.
"You’re not alone in this. We’ll make sure everything is done properly."
The lawyer gathered his things, buttoned his coat, and stepped out into the cold Bren evening.
The door closed softly behind him.
Javi exhaled for the first ti in what felt like hours.
His parents placed comforting hands on his back.
But his mind was already drifting — back to the quiet bedroom, back to the tiny bundle sleeping peacefully under soft blankets.
His son.
Lukas.
And with that, everything began.
* * *
Javi fell silent for a mont, gathering his thoughts as the two of them walked under the soft orange wash of the streetlights. Lukas kept his gaze forward, waiting. The night was quiet except for the distant hum of the city and the faint rustle of leaves overhead.
"It took about six months," Javi finally continued, his voice low but steady. "Six long, confusing months... but we eventually got the courts in Scotland to grant us full custody of you. I didn’t et your mother once during that entire ti. Everything went through lawyers. Letters. Paperwork. Nothing more."
Lukas didn’t interrupt. He simply walked beside him, hands in the pockets of his jacket, breathing in the cool night air.
Javi let out a breath that sounded like it had been held in for years.
"And then, the sa month the custody papers ca through... I got injured. That Achilles injury." He gave a small, humorless laugh. "Worst timing imaginable. But I pushed through rehab anyway, because I knew I needed to be there for you. No matter what."
Lukas turned his head slightly, watching the outline of his father’s face in the dim light. Javi’s eyes were focused sowhere far ahead—on mories Lukas could only guess at.
"I wanted to keep playing football," Javi went on. "I had plans. Dreams. And I wanted to raise you at the sa ti. But after the injury... I knew I couldn’t rely on football to feed a child. Couldn’t depend on your grandparents forever either. And staying here—staying in Bren—hurt more and more. Every ti I walked past the Weserstadion, every ti I saw the flag, every ti I got invited to watch a match... it felt like a reminder of what I lost. What I could have been."
His voice cracked a little at the end, and Lukas looked down, feeling his chest tighten.
"So I made the choice," Javi said softly. "I applied to TU Darmstadt. Got in. And I left. Packed up everything and moved with you even though my parents begged not to go. But I had to get away. I had to build sothing new."
They reached the edge of the small park—empty now, save for a couple of benches and the gentle glow of old street lamps. Javi slowed his pace.
"You asked how I managed," he said. "I didn’t, not alone. Your grandparents helped financially at first. And you... you weren’t a difficult child. You were calm. Quiet. Easier than most. When I had classes or shifts, I dropped you off at daycare. By the ti I finished my bachelor’s, then my master’s, and finally got a job... you were old enough to stay at the Ginez’s when needed. They helped more than they know."
Lukas smiled faintly. He rembered those days. The warmth of the Ginez household, the noise, the laughter.
"Five years ago," Javi continued, "I got a call from my mom. She told Jane had co to Bren looking for us. That’s the last ti I visited ho before today." He shook his head. "I was scared. Scared she’d bring drama. Scared she’d try to see you or challenge custody or... I don’t know. I just didn’t want to risk losing you. Not after everything."
Silence settled between them again. Lukas processed each word carefully, letting them sink in. He asked questions—about Javi’s injury, about leaving Bren, about studying while raising him—but avoided anything about Jane.
And Javi caught it.
They stopped walking. Javi turned to face him fully.
"Lukas," he said quietly, "isn’t there anything you want to know about her?"
Lukas t his eyes. "No."
"Are you... angry at ?" Javi asked. His voice softened with vulnerability. "For keeping you away from her all these years?"
Lukas shook his head imdiately. "I’m not angry. I understand you. All of it."
Javi exhaled in relief, only for Lukas’s next question to catch him off guard.
"But why tell today?" Lukas asked. "Why now? All these years... you never said a word. So... why today?"
There was no accusation in his tone. Just confusion. A quiet ache.
And behind it, a truth Lukas didn’t voice,
"In my previous life, you never told anything — not even when I was grown. Why now, in this one? Why today?"
Javi stared at the ground for a mont, his jaw shifting as if searching for the right words.
The night felt heavier. The air colder. The lamps suddenly seed too dim.
He finally looked up at Lukas with a conflicted, almost pained expression—
Javi exhaled slowly, the kind of breath that carried the weight of days he had spent thinking, debating, second-guessing himself. "You rember that call," he finally said, voice quieter than before. "The one from the UK. The night you were at ho."
Lukas felt his stomach tighten.
Javi nodded to himself, confirming the thought. "It was her. Jane."
The na hung in the night air like cold mist.
"I don’t know how she got my number," Javi continued. "But she called. Out of nowhere. And... she wanted to speak to you."
Lukas didn’t respond. He kept walking, eyes fixed on nothing, his hands buried deeper into the pockets of his jacket. Javi glanced at him, searching for a reaction, but Lukas had angled his face slightly away from him—toward the dark stretch of houses and trees on the other side of the street.
"She said she’d seen you," Javi went on. "Sowhere on TV. Recognized your face imdiately. She asked to... connect the two of you."
A soft, strangled breath left Lukas before he could stop it, but it was too quiet for Javi to catch. He kept staring at the darkness ahead, fighting hard not to swallow too sharply, not to blink too quickly, not to let anything spill.
"And what did you say to her?" Lukas asked, steadying his tone as best he could.
"I ended the call." Javi’s answer was imdiate. Firm. "I told her it would never happen. And I told her not to call this number again."
A/N: Hey guys... Writ here. I hope you guys are enjoying the story so far. This is doing my monthly shaless gift begging. Help a broke writer out any way you can...
Thank you all.
Love you all.
-Writ.
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