Become A Football Legend-Chapter 259: You Decide

João’s exaggerated disgust earned him a cushion straight to the chest from Joanna.

"Shut up," she shot back, though she was laughing.

Lukas only grinned, squeezing Joanna’s hands once more before letting go as footsteps approached from the kitchen area.

Anne reappeared balancing two takeaway bags and a cardboard drink tray, nudging the door shut behind her with her foot.

"Alright," she announced in mock sternness, "lovebirds and comedians, food is here. And you all need to eat properly. The flight back to Germany is in three hours."

She set the bags down on the small dining table. The smell of grilled chicken, rice, and warm flatbread filled the apartment. Nothing too heavy—simple, clean food. Protein bowls, salads, wraps. Athlete-friendly, even on a celebratory morning.

João was already reaching.

Anne lightly slapped his hand away. "Hands washed."

He groaned dramatically but obeyed.

Within minutes they were all seated—Joanna cross-legged on her chair, João leaning back too far as usual, Lukas opposite them, Javi quiet at the head of the table, watching.

It was decided earlier that Anne, Joanna, and João would head back to Germany that afternoon. Javi and Lukas would stay in England for a couple of days.

João unwrapped his bowl and looked up mid-bite.

"Where’s the match ball?"

Lukas blinked. "What?"

"Your match ball," João repeated, as if it were obvious. "The one you stole from Old Trafford."

Lukas smirked. "It’s not stealing when it’s yours."

"Where is it?"

"In my hotel room."

João immediately pulled out his phone. "Bro, your post from last night—"

He opened Instagram and angled the screen across the table.

The photo showed Lukas sitting in the dressing room at Old Trafford, boots off, socks half-rolled down, holding the match ball in one hand and the Player of the Match award in the other. Sweat still on his forehead. Smile small but unmistakable.

"Three hundred and fifty thousand likes already," João said, eyes wide. "And it hasn’t even been twelve hours."

He scrolled.

"Six million followers," he added, shaking his head. "Six. Million. You’ve been playing five months."

Joanna leaned over to peek. "That’s insane."

João kept going. "Some players have been at top clubs for years and barely have half of that."

Lukas shrugged, scooping rice onto his fork.

"Instagram followers don’t mean anything in football."

João stared at him.

"Sometimes," he said slowly, "I really wonder if you’re actually sixteen."

Lukas raised an eyebrow.

"You’re younger than me," João continued, "and you talk like some 28-year-old who’s been media trained since birth."

Joanna laughed.

João pointed at himself. "I’m at thirteen thousand followers, okay? And I check it every day. Every time it goes up by twenty I feel like I’ve signed a Ballon d’Or contract."

Lukas couldn’t help but laugh at that.

"Don’t worry," he said. "Once you make your debut, it’ll skyrocket."

João’s smile flickered, turning hopeful.

"I hope it’s this weekend," he said. "Coach told me to be ready."

"You’ll start?" Joanna asked.

"I don’t know. But I was in the squad last week. Didn’t play. This Sunday... feels different."

Lukas leaned back slightly, studying him.

"You’ll be fine."

João exhaled.

"I want to be more than fine."

"You will be," Lukas said simply. "And I’ll be there."

João blinked. "What?"

"For your debut," Lukas repeated. "I’ll be there."

João’s grin returned immediately. "You better not be busy knocking out another English club."

"No promises."

They finished eating, the conversation drifting between jokes about Old Trafford, complaints about airline food, and Joanna reminding João for the fifth time to actually study during the flight.

Soon enough, they were gathering their bags.

The goodbye at the airport was warm but quick. The check-in area buzzed with travelers dragging luggage and scanning departure boards. Anne hugged Lukas first.

"Rest," she told him quietly. "And don’t do anything reckless."

"Me?" he said innocently.

She smiled knowingly.

Joanna held onto him longer.

"Text me," she said.

"I will."

João clasped his hand, then pulled him into a tight one-armed hug.

"Don’t forget who you watched football with before the world knew you," João muttered.

"Never," Lukas replied.

Then it was just father and son.

Javi and Lukas stood watching them disappear through security.

For a moment, neither spoke.

Then they turned, walking back toward the rental car park in silence.

---

The engine hummed softly as they pulled out onto the road.

Manchester traffic moved steadily in the late morning light.

Lukas watched the city slide past through the passenger window—brick terraces, buses, people in coats, the distant outline of Old Trafford fading behind them.

He waited about thirty seconds.

Then he turned slightly toward his father.

"So," he said casually, though his tone carried weight, "what’s the matter, Dad?"

Javi kept his eyes on the road. 𝓯𝙧𝓮𝓮𝒘𝓮𝙗𝙣𝒐𝒗𝒆𝓵.𝓬𝓸𝒎

"What do you mean?"

"You asked Marco to get me a couple days off."

Silence.

Lukas continued gently, "He told me."

Javi’s grip tightened just slightly on the steering wheel.

"Everything alright?"

Another few seconds passed.

Finally, Javi exhaled slowly.

"It’s fine," he said.

Lukas didn’t buy it.

"You don’t ask a club to give their best player two days off before a final for nothing."

A faint smile tugged at Javi’s lips despite himself.

"Your ego is growing."

"You didn’t deny it."

Javi glanced at him briefly, then back at the road.

"I need to talk to you," he said.

Lukas straightened slightly.

"About?"

Javi’s jaw tightened.

"About someone."

The air in the car shifted.

Lukas studied his father’s profile.

"...Who?"

Javi’s voice lowered, steadier now.

"About your mother."

Javi kept his eyes on the road as he spoke.

"She was at the game yesterday."

Lukas didn’t move.

"She called my name when we were leaving. We... talked."

The city blurred past outside the window. Lukas’ reflection stared back at him, jaw tight, eyes unreadable.

"She wants to arrange a meeting," Javi continued. "She said she’s been trying to message you on Instagram. Couldn’t bring herself to send it."

Lukas’ gaze didn’t shift.

Javi didn’t go into the details. He didn’t repeat the café, the tears, the words that had been said. He only gave the outline. The essentials.

"She asked to speak to you."

Silence filled the car for a long stretch after that.

The Lowry came into view ahead, its glass reflecting the pale Manchester sky. Javi slowed the car and pulled into the parking area.

The engine cut.

For a few seconds neither of them moved.

Then Lukas finally spoke, voice calm.

"What did you tell her?"

Javi’s hands rested on the steering wheel.

"I told her not to reach out," he said. "I told her I wouldn’t set anything up."

A pause.

"But," he added quietly, "I know you’d want to decide for yourself."

That made Lukas’ eyes flicker.

Javi turned to him fully now.

"I was torn about telling you at all," he admitted. "You’ve got enough going on. A final coming up. Everything else." He exhaled. "I didn’t want to disturb your head."

He studied his son.

"But from the way you’ve been carrying yourself... the way you handled last night..." He shook his head faintly. "You’re mature enough to navigate this. So I’ll listen to whatever you want."

Lukas swallowed.

The weight of it sat between them now. Not football. Not tactics. Not contracts.

Something older.

He didn’t respond.

He simply opened the door.

The cold Manchester air hit his face as he stepped out. He pulled his hoodie over his head, hands sliding into the front pocket, shoulders slightly hunched.

For a brief second, he stood there beside the car, staring at the entrance of the hotel.

Then he started walking.

Javi stayed seated, watching through the windshield as his son crossed the pavement and disappeared through the sliding glass doors of the Lowry.

The door closed behind him.

And for the first time since the night before, Javi felt the full uncertainty of what he had just set in motion.