Evening shadows stretched across the Fiorentina stadium as players filed out of the dressing rooms with equipnt bags slung over tired shoulders, and the distant sound of the team bus engine humming carried through the corridor as most headed toward the main exit.
"We’ll see you guys back at Atalanta," Riccardo called over his shoulder as Demien and Luca paused at a side hallway, and Demien nodded in acknowledgnt before they turned down the corridor that led to the VIP parking area.
The passageway gradually opened into the smaller lot where family mbers and important guests were permitted to park, and the cooler evening air felt refreshing against Demien’s face after the stuffy confines of the dressing room.
A sleek black sedan stood waiting near the far corner, its polished surface reflecting the stadium lights while several figures stood beside it in conversation, and Demien felt his pace quicken involuntarily as he recognized his mother’s silhouette.
Isabella was speaking with Marco when she glanced up and spotted them approaching, and everything about her posture changed as her shoulders straightened and her face transford with a smile that carried all her maternal pride.
She broke away from the group without finishing her sentence and moved toward them with quickening steps that turned into a half-jog as the distance closed, and her eyes shone with a mixture of joy and unshed tears.
"Demien!" she called, her voice carrying across the lot as she reached him and wrapped her arms around him in a fierce embrace that conveyed everything words couldn’t express.
The familiar scent of her perfu brought a wave of comfort as Demien returned the hug, and for a mont he wasn’t a professional footballer who’d just signed with Atalanta—he was just her son, the boy she’d raised alone through difficult years.
When she finally released him, her hands lingered on his shoulders as she looked him over as though confirming he was uninjured, and then she imdiately turned and pulled Luca into a similarly enthusiastic hug.
"Both of you were amazing!" she exclaid as Luca’s face showed surprise before lting into a pleased smile at the motherly affection he hadn’t expected.
Marco approached at a more asured pace, though his usually composed professional deanor had given way to genuine excitent that showed in the brightness of his eyes and the slight bounce in his step.
Behind him stood Sophia, whose casual stance betrayed her attempt to appear unimpressed while her eyes revealed her interest, and beside her waited the Bianchi family’s butler, his formal posture maintained perfectly despite the informal setting.
"Wow, what a match," Marco said as he reached them, his handshake firm and enthusiastic as he gripped first Demien’s hand and then Luca’s. "You guys really had us on the edge of our seats out there."
Sophia approached her brother with asured steps before suddenly punching his arm with surprising force, and Luca recoiled with a confused expression.
"What was that for?" he demanded while rubbing his arm.
Sophia’s serious expression cracked into a smile as she said, "That was for that ridiculous celebration after your goal," but then her voice softened as she added, "But that finish was actually pretty amazing."
Luca’s annoyance lted instantly as his sister’s rare complint registered, and his chest puffed slightly as he replied, "Thanks, Sofi."
She rolled her eyes at the childhood nickna but the smile remained, and the sibling dynamic shifted into sothing warr as they stood together.
Sophia turned toward Demien then, and her voice carried a different tone as she asked, "How are you feeling after all that? That tackle in the first half looked painful."
"I’m good," Demien replied while eting her eyes directly, and he added, "Nothing serious, just got caught up in the mont."
"You played well," she said simply, the statent lacking the teasing edge she used with her brother, and a brief silence stretched between them that felt weighted with sothing neither seed ready to na.
The butler cleared his throat politely before gesturing toward the sedan as he announced, "The car is ready whenever you are."
As they moved toward the vehicle, Marco fell into step beside Isabella while explaining, "Mr. Bianchi arranged for us to follow in his car—very generous of him."
The butler held the doors as they entered the spacious sedan, and soon they were pulling away from the stadium with Florence’s evening lights glowing warmly against the darkening sky.
Inside the car, conversation flowed easily about the match as Isabella asked questions that revealed she’d been paying close attention to every detail, and Luca animatedly described the feeling of scoring his equalizer while Sophia pretended not to be impressed though her eyes betrayed her pride.
"The way you controlled that midfield though, Demien," Marco cut in while leaning forward from the third row, and his agent’s analytical mind was clearly working as he added, "That’s exactly what coaches at this level want to see—composure, vision, technical quality under pressure."
The butler spoke from the front passenger seat without turning around, his voice formal yet warm as he said, "Master Luca has spoken highly of your abilities since you began training together, Mr. Walter."
Demien glanced at Luca with surprise while Luca shrugged with a half-smile as if to say of course I did, and Demien felt a mont of genuine appreciation for his friend before replying, "Thank you. Luca’s been a big part of making the transition easier."
"We make a good team," Luca added with uncharacteristic sincerity, the usual bravado montarily set aside as the day’s achievents settled over them both.
Marco suddenly snapped his fingers as though rembering sothing important, and his voice rose with excitent as he announced, "Oh! I completely forgot to tell you—I got a call from Atalanta’s sporting director today."
All eyes turned to him as he continued, "They confird they want to offer both of you professional contracts. We’ll need to et with them at the club when you return for the formal discussions—"
"Coach Rossi already told us before we left," Luca interrupted with a grin, and Marco’s excitent deflated slightly before he recovered.
"Well, that’s good then," he said while regaining his professional deanor, though the pride still showed through as he added, "I’m incredibly proud of both of you. This is just the beginning."
Isabella reached across to squeeze her son’s hand, her eyes bright with unshed tears, and Sophia clapped her hands together once with genuine enthusiasm while forgetting her usually cool façade.
"This calls for a celebration," the butler announced from the front, and the formality in his voice cracked slightly to reveal genuine happiness for the young n, and he added, "Mr. Bianchi will be extrely pleased when I inform him of the news."
As the car approached Demien’s neighborhood, familiar streets sliding past the windows, Luca suddenly sat forward and looked at his sister with an expression that imdiately made Demien suspicious.
"Sofia," Luca said with forced casualness that wasn’t casual at all, "are you free next Saturday?"
She narrowed her eyes with imdiate suspicion and replied, "Why? I don’t think so."
"I just thought you might want to co to Bergamo to see a match," Luca continued while pointedly avoiding Demien’s stare, and he added, "The atmosphere at Atalanta is really sothing."
Sofia rolled her eyes dramatically and replied, "Ew, why would I want to see a football match with you? I’m busy."
"Well," Luca said while a mischievous smile spread across his face, "I wasn’t suggesting you go with . I thought maybe you could go with Demien."
"What are you doing?" Demien hissed under his breath, his eyes wide with alarm as he realized what his friend was attempting.
Sofia’s expression changed instantly as she asked, "With Demien?"
"Yeah," Luca continued despite Demien’s glare, "He has tickets for the pre-season match against Angers."
Sofia studied Demien for a mont before saying with a completely different tone, "Oh, well if it’s with Demien, then I’m free," and then she added while looking directly at him, "I’ll text you later so we can figure out the details."
Demien’s mind raced for an appropriate response, but his thoughts jumbled together as he tried to process the abrupt turn in conversation, and his eyes darted between Sofia’s expectant gaze and Luca’s barely contained amusent at the situation he’d created.
The sedan gradually slowed as it turned onto the familiar street where Demien had grown up, the neighborhood lights casting warm patterns through the windows as they approached his apartnt building, and the mont hung suspended between them as Demien opened his mouth without any clear idea of what would co out.
"We have arrived, sir," the butler announced with impeccable timing as the car glided to a smooth stop at the curb, and the soft click of the doors unlocking provided a welco interruption to the charged atmosphere.
Demien exhaled slowly, grateful for the reprieve as Isabella gathered her purse while Marco collected the training schedule he’d been reviewing, and the routine motions of preparing to exit the vehicle gave him a mont to compose himself.
"Thank you for the ride," Isabella said to the butler with genuine warmth in her voice as she stepped out onto the sidewalk, and Marco added his own appreciation with a professional nod while Demien was still ntally replaying the exchange with Sofia, uncertain whether to feel annoyed at Luca’s ddling or intrigued by her response.
They said their goodbyes to Luca and Sophia, with promises to stay in touch over the next two days of break, and as the car pulled away, Demien finally felt the tension in his shoulders release.
Inside the apartnt, Marco’s professional deanor disappeared completely as he threw his arm around Demien’s shoulders and exclaid, "Look at my big boy! Playing for a top club in Italia!"
His voice carried genuine excitent as he continued, "Atalanta! Champions League football! This is everything we’ve been working for!"
Demien turned to his mother and found her wiping tears from her eyes, and concern imdiately replaced his excitent as he stepped toward her and asked, "Mom? What’s wrong?"
She shook her head quickly, her smile bright through the tears as she replied, "Nothing’s wrong, nothing at all," and her voice trembled slightly as she continued, "I just can’t believe this is happening—my boy, my Demien, signing with Atalanta."
"I promised you things would get better," Demien said softly as he pulled her into a hug, rembering those dark days before David Drinkwater’s consciousness had taken over, the pill bottle, the despair that had consud this body.
"I’m going to make you proud," he whispered as he held her, and he ant it with every cell in his being—this second chance wasn’t just about him anymore, it was about her too, about making all those years of sacrifice and support worthwhile.
As they broke apart, Marco was already on his phone, typing rapidly with the excitent of an agent who knew his client was about to sign a significant contract, and Demien felt the reality of it all washing over him in waves—Atalanta, the first team, a professional contract, everything changing in the space of a trial that had started with so much uncertainty.
The system remained silent in his head, but he didn’t need notifications or currency updates to know that this mont, right here with his mother’s tears of joy and Marco’s excited planning, was what mattered most—the human connection that no gacha system could ever quantify.
The next few days would bring contract negotiations and first team integration, but tonight was for family, for celebrating how far he’d co from that broken boy who had once given up on life.
Tonight was for rembering that so victories couldn’t be asured in TP, MP, or SP.
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