As the players funnelled out of the room, Arteta walked a few steps ahead, speaking briefly with one of his assistants, but Izan closed the gap with an easy stride.
"Coach," he called quietly as Arteta glanced over his shoulder, slowed, and let Izan fall in beside him.
"Everything alright?"
"Yeah," Izan said. "Just wanted to talk about sothing before we head back in. You ntioned there were a few things we still had to finish up today."
Arteta gave him a small nod. "We do. Why?"
"In that case," Izan said, steady but respectful, "I’d like to go to Italy earlier than planned."
Arteta stopped just outside the corridor exit with the hallway light catching the crease between his brows as he studied Izan.
"Can I ask why you need to go now?"
"Of course." Izan shifted his bag higher on his shoulder.
"Saint Laurent reached out to through Selene. She wants to finish the capsule images we started. She said she’s ready to shoot again, and she’s only free this week. I wouldn’t bring it up if it wasn’t important to her schedule. That’s how she is with her timing."
Arteta held his gaze for a mont, careful and thoughtful, as if weighing two different clocks at once.
"I figured you’d handle it after the match," he said. "But if you are not doing so, I’m guessing there’s a reason."
"There is." Izan didn’t over-explain it.
He didn’t need to, as Arteta had so idea how much attention the partnership drew between him and Selene.
Arteta exhaled, quiet but not annoyed, but more like soone re-adjusting plans he had already made in his head.
"Alright," he said, rubbing a thumb briefly along the strap of the folder he held.
"Go speak with the player liaison. Tell him I’ve cleared it. He’ll sort the logistics."
"Thank you," Izan said.
Arteta gave a small, resigned shake of his head, though there was the faintest hint of a smile behind it.
"Just don’t let her keep you longer than necessary. We will still have work to do in Italy."
"I won’t," Izan replied as he pulled away from Arteta.
Afterwards, it was just late lunch and banter for the players before they began heading ho.
Outside, the late afternoon sun stretched across the training ground as Izan and Nwaneri slipped out toward the lot.
The place was thinning out after the session, with only a few cars humming to life as players peeled off one by one.
Nwaneri jogged ahead, waving a hand. "You got space?"
Izan nodded as he clicked the Gera open.
"Get in before soone else steals your ride."
Nwaneri grinned and threw his bag in the back.
"Bro, this car still feels like a spaceship every ti."
"You say that every ti," Izan said, easing out of the lot, the quiet electric glide settling over them.
"Well, it is true," Nwaneri muttered, already scrolling through sothing on his phone, legs stretched as far as they could go in the front seat.
The roads heading out of main London moved slowly, the glowing orange under the sinking light.
Inside the car, the two fell into a comfortable silence after that.
By the ti Izan pulled up to drop Nwaneri off, the latter let out a breath that fogged the window.
"Tell Olivia I said hi," Nwaneri said as he grabbed his bag.
"Yeah, I am not going to do that," Izan said as Nwaneri got off and disappeared into the building before pulling away again.
A while later, for Izan, ho ca into view just as the sky slipped from orange into a deeper blue.
He stepped inside and was t by the soft hum of the air conditioner and the faint scent of sothing Miranda must have sprayed on earlier that day.
She rarely got ho this early, yet there she was, seated on one of the kitchen stools with her tablet in hand.
"You’re back early," she said, eyebrows lifting.
"Arteta said I could go ahead," Izan replied, dropping his keys in the bowl near the door to which Miranda humd thoughtfully.
"Then I’ll book your flight tonight. Might as well get it sorted."
Izan let out a quiet sigh without aning to.
Miranda heard it and looked up.
"What was that about?" she asked.
"Nothing," he said, shaking his head.
He didn’t add anything else and just slipped past her and headed down the hallway before going up the stairs.
Miranda watched him for a mont, then went back to her tablet.
.....
[After Dinner.]
Upstairs, the house was still.
His room carried its usual faint scent of cedar from the open wardrobe and whatever fabric softener Olivia always slipped into the laundry, while Izan slipped into the bathroom after dinner.
When he ca out a few minutes later, towel over his face, he heard the sheets shift.
He lowered the towel to find Olivia lying across the bed in a soft beige nightgown, one leg folded lazily over the other, her hair falling across her shoulder.
She looked like soone who had been waiting for him.
"Took you long enough," she said with a small smile. "You just ca back, and now you’re going again. I wish I could just drop everything and follow you."
Izan draped the towel over the rack and stepped out, rubbing a hand through his damp hair.
"You can," he said as he ca closer, "but you shouldn’t."
Olivia snorted at that. "You always say that like it’s supposed to make behave."
He sat on the edge of the bed as he pushed herself upright with a slow, deliberate ease.
Her fingers brushed his shoulder before she nudged him back, guiding him onto the mattress.
"You’re leaving tomorrow," she murmured, climbing over him with a look that was equal parts playful and determined. "You need to stay on my mind while you’re gone."
Her voice softened into sothing warm and teasing as she settled above him, the room dim and quiet around them.
.....
The next day, the drive to Heathrow passed in a steady blur of headlights and quiet radio chatter.
Miranda kept one hand on the wheel and the other tapping lightly against her knee, the habit slipping in whenever she was running through ntal checklists.
Izan watched the city fall away behind them through the windows as the early morning sky softened by the minute.
A few minutes later, the forr pulled up to the drop-off zone and eased the car into an open space as the automatic doors of the terminal glowed ahead of them, bright against the pale light outside.
"Got everything?" she asked, turning in her seat towards Izan like the latter was travelling for the first ti.
"I’m not a child," Izan said as he unbuckled.
"Of course, I got everything."
Miranda blinked once, then tilted her head thoughtfully.
"Technically..."
But Izan stepped out before she could finish, closing the door on whatever she was about to add.
She laughed under her breath, shaking her head, and lowered the passenger window.
"Text when you land," she called out.
He waved without looking back, already walking toward departures with his small carry-on rolling behind him.
Inside the terminal, Izan moved through check-in and security without lingering, his mind already drifting ahead to Italy and the reason he was flying out early.
Once on the plane, the flight passed in quiet stretches.
A movie he didn’t finish.
A light al, he barely touched.
The rest spent half-asleep against the window with the clouds drifting beneath the plane like slow-moving waves.
A couple of hours later, the wheels hit the runway with a low thrum.
Ro’s afternoon light washed in through the window as the plane taxied.
Once he stepped out into the arrivals hall, the hum of conversation shifted around him, a blend of Italian, English, and the scattered noise of families waiting for loved ones.
Selene was easy to spot, not because she stood out, but because she held herself with a calm certainty.
She didn’t bother with sunglasses or hats or any effort to blend in.
She didn’t need to, as most people didn’t know her face and only knew the work she created.
She waited near the railing, with a tote bag cara bag slung casually at her side.
When she saw him, her expression ward quietly as she began sizing up her client.
"You made good ti," she said as he approached, then added, "You’ve gotten more handso."
"It wasn’t a long flight," Izan replied, adjusting the strap of his bag, " And thank you. You are not ageing too."
Selene didn’t waste ti with small talk as she nodded toward the exit.
"Car’s outside."
They walked through the sliding doors where a black sedan idled near the curb.
She opened the back door for him, then slipped in after.
Once the door shut and the city sounds softened, she glanced his way with the smallest spark in her eyes.
"Let’s get you started."
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