God Of football - Chapter 767
Chapter 767: Fun Day
Once the lock clicked, the warm scent of garlic and herbs drifted out, wrapping around them as they stepped into the hallway.
Izan bent, setting the bags down by the couch in a neat stack, exhaling softly through his nose.
Before he could straighten, a head peeked out from the kitchen doorway.
Komi.
Her gaze skipped past Olivia, lingered briefly on the mountain of shopping bags, and then locked squarely on Hori.
“You.”
Her tone was sharp, somewhere between scolding and resigned, like she already knew exactly what had happened.
Hori froze mid-step, clutching her little shopping bag closer to her chest as if it could shield her.
Olivia bit her lip to hide a smile, while Izan just closed his eyes for a beat, already knowing trouble was about to brew.
Hori blinked, still clutching her bag like a shield. “…Me?”
“Yes, you,” Komi shot back, striding forward, her expression sharpening into that familiar motherly scowl.
“Why didn’t you go to school?”
Hori squeaked and immediately darted behind the couch, her voice tumbling out in a rush as she circled it, keeping the furniture between them.
“I did call! I called to say!”
“You never called me,” Komi snapped, following her around with quick steps, her hands ready to grab.
“I did! I swear I did!” Hori argued, darting to the other side as if she were playing tag.
“You did not!”
“Yes, I did!”
The back-and-forth ricocheted around the room until a new voice broke through from the staircase.
“Okay, okay, hold on.” Miranda came down slowly, one hand sliding along the rail.
“She did call, Komi.”
Both stopped mid-step as Komi turned with a glare.
Hori puffed out her chest in triumph, though she still clutched her shopping bag like a trophy.
Miranda descended the last step and sighed.
“Look, when we were at work, your phone was with me. Hori called, blurted something about not going to school, and before I could say anything, she hung up.”
Hori raised her hand as if she were in class. “See? I called.”
Komi’s frown deepened. “Then why didn’t I know?”
“Because,” Miranda said patiently, “when we went down to the conference room, I handed your phone back. Right after, another call came in. From him.”
She tilted her chin toward Izan, who was just walking in, a bottle of water in his hand.
“Yeah,” Izan said casually. “I called, too. Told you the truth, didn’t I?”
Komi ignored him entirely, eyes still narrowed.
“When did these supposed calls happen? Because I have no recollection of answering any call.”
Miranda folded her arms.
“That’s because it wasn’t you. The second call was Izan ranting about hotpacks—”
“I wasn’t ranting,” Izan cut in, though he was smirking.
“—and about how his grandfather said their family weren’t wussies who skipped things for a cold,” Miranda went on smoothly.
“Before I could tell him it wasn’t you, he hung up mid-sentence.”
Olivia, who had perched on the armrest of the sofa, stifled a laugh behind her hand.
Her eyes bounced between Izan and Komi like she was watching a play as the tension broke with Komi’s long sigh.
“Alright. Come here,” she said, beckoning Hori with her fingers.
Hori hesitated, nibbling her lip. “You’re calm now?”
“Yes, I’m calm,” Komi said evenly.
Slowly, Hori shuffled around the couch, chin ducked, until she stood in front of her mother.
Komi reached out, stroked her hair once, then promptly smacked her on the back.
“Ah!” Hori yelped, clutching the spot as she staggered forward.
“Motherly love,” Komi said firmly.
Izan stepped in quickly, taking Komi’s hand before she could follow through with a second swipe.
“Easy, mamá. Don’t waste your energy on her.”
Hori bobbed her head rapidly in agreement, eyes wide.
Instead, Izan nodded toward one of the smaller shopping bags sitting on the floor.
“Bring me that one.”
Still rubbing her back, Hori scampered to grab it and plopped it onto his lap.
Izan opened it carefully, pulling out a small case.
When he clicked it open, both Hori and Olivia gasped.
“Izan,” Olivia whispered, eyes darting between the watch and her boyfriend.
“When did you even…?”
Ignoring the surprise, Izan set the elegant timepiece on the coffee table before turning to Komi.
“Happy Mother’s Day, mamá. A little early, I know, but Sunday’s not far.”
Komi’s jaw fell slack.
“Izan, no. That’s, this is far too much.”
But Izan only chuckled, plucking the price tag still dangling from the clasp.
“Like Hori said, what’s money to me? I make this back in a day.”
“I did say that,” Hori chimed in proudly, sliding closer.
“And this,” Izan continued, opening another velvet box, “for your ears.” He placed a delicate pair of earrings into Komi’s palm.
Komi’s hand shook as she stared at them.
“Too expensive,” she whispered, before a high-pitched shriek burst from her throat.
“Too expensive!”
Hori leaned in, helping Izan slip one into her ear while he held up his phone as a mirror.
“Look how beautiful she is,” Izan said softly, smiling at the reflection.
Komi’s eyes welled with tears as Hori wrapped her arms around her shoulders.
“I’m sorry, mamá,” Hori whispered.
“My babies…” Komi’s voice broke, her arms closing around them both.
But Izan wasn’t finished.
He reached into the bag again and drew out another box, handing it first to Miranda.
“And for you, because you’ve been like a second mother and the best agent I could ever ask for.”
Miranda blinked at the watch and earrings tucked inside, her usually composed expression faltering.
“You… you didn’t have to,”
“I know,” Izan interrupted, smiling. “But I wanted to.”
Wordlessly, she took off the earrings she had on and let Izan replace them with the new ones.
“Perfect,” he said, stepping back.
From her seat, Olivia had her chin in her hands, eyes soft as she watched the entire scene unfold.
She was about to comment when a faint smell drifted in from the kitchen.
“Something’s burning,” she muttered, darting off.
Komi shot up suddenly.
“My food!” She rushed after Olivia, only to return a moment later with a smoking pan.
“It’s ruined,” she groaned.
“It’s fine,” Izan reassured, waving a hand.
Miranda was already scrolling on her phone.
“Not a problem. I’ll order from the place that catered for Izan when he first came to London. They’ll know what to do.”
Dinner arrived half an hour later, delivered by a young man in a branded jacket.
Izan met him at the gate, startling the driver when he saw who it was.
“Uh… Mr. Hernández?” the man stammered, clutching the bags.
“Yeah,” Izan said easily, taking them.
The driver hesitated, professionalism warring with temptation, but finally, he blurted, “Could I… maybe… have a picture? Just one?”
Izan smirked, half-turning as though to decline, before relenting.
“Alright, one.”
He slung an arm around the man’s shoulder, smiled for the quick snap, and handed the food inside.
The family gathered around the table, tearing into the meal with laughter and little jokes bouncing between them.
By the time the plates were empty, bellies full, and yawns inevitable, the warmth of the house seemed to glow brighter.
One by one, they drifted off to their rooms until the house was quiet again.
….
Steam still clung faintly to Izan’s shoulders as he pushed open the door, towel draped loosely around his neck, hair damp and swept back into a bun.
The room was dim, the faint glow of the ceiling’s night lights casting a soft shimmer across the walls.
Olivia was already curled up on the bed in her nightgown, her damp hair falling lazily against her collarbone.
She turned her head toward him with a small smile, her voice low and warm.
“Today was fun,” she said, tucking her legs beneath the covers.
“Yeah,” Izan replied, tossing the towel onto the chair in the corner.
He didn’t sound overly energetic, but the faint curl of a smile played at his lips.
Olivia gave him a look before turning her back to him, clearly ready to nestle into the pillows.
That was his chance.
With a grin that could only mean trouble, Izan lunged forward, collapsing onto the bed and pinning her down with his weight.
His fingers shot straight to her sides, digging in playfully.
“Izan!” Olivia yelped, twisting and thrashing.
“Not the ribs! That’s not my spot—”
“I know,” Izan said, his grin widening, mischief glinting in his eyes.
Before she could wiggle free, his hands slid down, catching her palm.
He began scraping lightly against it, knowing full well how much it made her lose control.
Olivia’s laugh broke out immediately, high-pitched and desperate, tears threatening at the corners of her eyes as she kicked at the sheets.
“Stop, stop, I swear I’ll—” Her words broke apart in a fit of laughter.
She tried pulling her hands away, curling up, anything to resist, but he held her easily. “I’m serious, Izan, if you don’t stop, I’ll— I’ll wet the bed!”
This is the first of the day. See you in a bit with the last of the day. Have fun reading and bye for now.