The King Of Arsenal

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Inside the Presidential Villa, Francesco and Leah remained together in the peaceful aftermath of their adventure, tired from the hours of walking and swimming but happier than either of them could remember feeling in a long time.

Then the following morning arrived quietly, much like the others had begun.

There was no sudden alarm.

No urgent phone call.

No reminder from Arsenal.

No message from England.

For the first time in what felt like an entirely different life, Francesco could wake up and have no idea what the exact time was without feeling guilty about it.

He opened his eyes and looked toward the windows.

Morning light had already begun filling the Presidential Villa.

Leah was still asleep beside him.

Francesco smiled.

For a moment, he simply watched her.

Then he glanced toward the bedside table, where his phone was sitting.

He picked it up.

The screen was filled with photographs.

Red Beach.

Oia.

Fira.

The Blue Domes.

The sea.

Leah laughing.

The two of them together.

He scrolled through a few of them and smiled.

There were already hundreds.

And they had only been in Santorini for a few days.

He put the phone down.

There would be plenty more.

And there were.

The days began to blend together in the best possible way.

There was no strict pattern.

No two mornings were exactly the same.

Sometimes Francesco and Leah woke early and went out before the island became busy.

Other mornings, they slept late, ordered breakfast and stayed around the villa until the sun was already high.

They explored whenever they felt like it.

One day, they wandered through quieter villages away from the busiest tourist areas, walking along narrow streets where white walls were covered with flowers and small balconies overlooked the sea.

Another afternoon was spent almost entirely near the water.

They swam.

They sat beneath the sun.

They talked.

They occasionally fell asleep for a few minutes before waking and laughing at themselves.

On another day, they found a small restaurant with a terrace overlooking the Aegean and ended up staying far longer than they had intended.

The food arrived.

Then another drink.

Then dessert.

Then somehow another hour passed.

Francesco looked at his watch.

"We've been here forever."

Leah smiled.

"Are we late for something?"

He looked at her.

"No."

"Then what's the problem?"

He laughed.

"Nothing."

"Exactly."

That became their answer to almost everything.

There was nothing they needed to rush toward.

Nothing they needed to finish.

Nothing waiting to punish them for taking another hour.

So they stayed.

They watched boats move across the water.

They talked about everything and nothing.

They laughed about people they knew.

They remembered moments from the World Cup.

They discussed Arsenal occasionally, but even football felt different when they weren't surrounded by it.

It was no longer something demanding their attention.

It was simply part of their lives waiting patiently back home.

Their phones gradually became completely dominated by Santorini.

Leah took photographs constantly.

Not just of the famous places.

Everything.

A plate of food that looked particularly good.

A flower growing beside a doorway.

Francesco wearing an outfit she liked.

The two of them walking down a quiet street.

A sunset reflected across the water.

Their shadows on the ground.

A table waiting for breakfast.

Their feet beside the swimming pool.

A ridiculous photograph of Francesco half asleep on a sun lounger.

He discovered that one later.

He stared at the screen.

"You took that while I was sleeping?"

Leah tried not to laugh.

"You looked cute."

"I looked unconscious."

"You were relaxed."

"I was asleep."

"Exactly."

Francesco shook his head.

"Delete it."

"No."

"Leah."

"No."

He smiled despite himself.

"Fine."

She grinned.

"I'm keeping it."

There were photographs of her too.

Francesco became more confident with the camera as the week went on.

He took pictures of Leah without telling her sometimes.

Not because he wanted posed photographs, but because he liked the moments when she wasn't thinking about the camera.

Her laughing.

Her looking toward the sea.

Her examining something in a shop.

Her walking ahead of him.

Her sitting across from him at breakfast.

Those were often his favorites.

One evening, while they were sitting outside the villa, Leah scrolled through the photographs.

"We have a lot."

Francesco looked over.

"How many?"

She checked.

"Over a thousand."

He stared at her.

"A thousand?"

"Maybe more."

"You've photographed half of Santorini."

She smiled.

"Almost."

Francesco laughed.

"You're going to need another phone."

"I told you it was worth it."

He looked at the screen.

She was right.

Every photograph seemed to carry a small piece of the week with it.

And that was what made the trip feel different.

They weren't simply visiting places.

They were collecting moments.

⸻

Shopping became another regular part of their days.

Leah seemed to discover a new shop every time they went somewhere.

Clothes.

Jewelry.

Handmade items.

Artwork.

Souvenirs.

Little gifts for family.

Things they probably didn't need.

Things they definitely didn't need.

Francesco learned not to ask how much anything cost unless he was prepared for a detailed explanation.

At one point, they returned to the villa with several shopping bags.

Francesco placed them on the floor.

"How did this happen?"

Leah looked at him innocently.

"What?"

"We left with two bags."

"We bought some things."

"We came back with seven."

She smiled.

"They're small."

Francesco looked at the bags.

"They're not."

She laughed.

"You're carrying them, so it doesn't matter."

"That is not how shopping works."

"It worked."

He shook his head.

"You're impossible."

"You still love me."

Francesco smiled.

"Unfortunately."

She nudged him.

"Again with that?"

"You know I'm joking."

"I know."

She leaned closer.

"That's why you get away with it."

He laughed.

The bags eventually found their places among their luggage.

They knew they were going home with considerably more than they had arrived with.

Neither particularly cared.

⸻

One evening, they watched the sunset from a quiet terrace.

The sky changed slowly.

Gold became orange.

Orange faded toward pink.

The sea caught every shade.

They sat close together without speaking.

Eventually Leah rested her head against Francesco's shoulder.

"This week went quickly."

Francesco nodded.

"Too quickly."

"Feels like we just got here."

"I know."

He looked toward the horizon.

"But it also feels like we've been here forever."

Leah smiled.

"That's because we've actually relaxed."

Francesco thought about that.

She was right.

For months, his life had been measured in fixtures.

Training sessions.

Travel.

Press conferences.

Meetings.

Tournaments.

Knockout rounds.

Finals.

Every day had belonged to something.

Every hour had a purpose.

Even after winning the World Cup, the celebrations had immediately taken over.

There had barely been time to understand what had happened before another obligation appeared.

Here, the opposite had happened.

Time had stopped mattering.

And somehow, that had been exactly what he needed.

"I think I needed this more than I realized," he said quietly.

Leah looked at him.

"So did I."

He took her hand.

They sat there until the light disappeared.

⸻

Eventually, the final day arrived.

Neither of them wanted to acknowledge it.

The villa looked different with their luggage spread across the bedroom.

Clothes that had spent a week hanging neatly in wardrobes were being folded again.

Shoes were gathered.

Swimwear was pulled from drawers.

Toiletries disappeared into bags.

Chargers were unplugged.

Phones were checked.

Souvenirs were wrapped carefully.

The shopping bags from Fira and the other villages were squeezed into whatever space remained.

Francesco looked at one suitcase.

"I don't think that's going to close."

Leah pressed down on it.

"Try now."

He pulled the zipper.

It moved halfway.

Then stopped.

"See?"

"Push."

"I am pushing."

"More."

"Leah, if I push any harder, I'm going to break it."

She laughed.

"Let me."

She took over.

After another attempt, the zipper finally closed.

Francesco looked impressed.

"Okay."

She smiled.

"Problem solved."

He picked up another bag.

"This one feels heavier."

"It's probably the souvenirs."

"Probably?"

She looked at him.

"Don't worry about it."

He laughed.

They continued packing.

Every so often, one of them would find something that brought back a memory.

A small item they had bought in Oia.

A receipt from a restaurant.

A photograph printed from one of the resort's services.

A piece of clothing Leah had bought.

Francesco found himself smiling more than he expected.

The villa had become familiar in only a week.

The bedroom.

The living room.

The terrace.

The view.

The quiet.

It felt strange knowing they wouldn't wake up here tomorrow.

Leah stood near the window.

"You ready?"

Francesco looked around.

"No."

She smiled.

"Me neither."

He walked over and stood beside her.

The Aegean stretched beyond them.

"I'll miss this."

"Me too."

They stayed there for another moment.

Then Francesco sighed.

"All right."

Leah looked at him.

"We have to go."

"I know."

They collected the final belongings.

Checked every room.

Checked the bathroom.

Checked the wardrobes.

Checked the charging points.

Then Francesco looked around one last time.

"Okay."

They closed the door behind them.

⸻

At the lobby, the resort staff greeted them warmly.

Their luggage was taken from them almost immediately.

One staff member confirmed the checkout details while another made sure every bag had been accounted for.

Francesco completed the formalities and settled the villa bill.

He thanked the staff personally.

"Thank you for everything."

"It was our pleasure, Mr. Lee."

"You've looked after us incredibly well."

Leah smiled.

"We've had an amazing week."

The staff member smiled.

"We're very happy to hear that."

Francesco shook his hand.

"Thank you."

They made their way outside.

The familiar entrance of Desiterra Resort stood behind them.

For a moment, Francesco looked back.

A week earlier, they had arrived exhausted from the journey.

Now they were leaving with tired legs, full phones and considerably more luggage.

But they also looked happier.

A luxury taxi arrived shortly afterward.

The luggage was loaded into the trunk.

Francesco and Leah climbed into the back.

As the vehicle pulled away, Leah turned toward the window.

The resort gradually disappeared.

Then the roads opened up.

Santorini passed around them.

White buildings.

Volcanic hills.

Blue water.

Small villages.

Roads they had traveled before.

Places they remembered.

Leah smiled.

"There's the road we took to Oia."

Francesco looked.

"Yeah."

"And that's where we stopped for that café."

"I remember."

"And that's the shop where you carried six bags."

"Five."

"Six."

He laughed.

"Definitely five."

She smiled.

They continued reminiscing.

Red Beach.

Fira.

Oia.

The Blue Domes.

The restaurants.

The little cafés.

The shopping.

The photographs.

The swimming.

The evenings.

The mornings when they had stayed in bed too long.

The conversations that had lasted hours.

Every memory seemed to make the journey toward the airport feel shorter.

Eventually, the airport appeared.

Francesco looked ahead.

"Well."

Leah sighed.

"Home."

"Yeah."

Their luggage was taken from the taxi.

Francesco handled the arrangements for their private flight back to London.

The familiar ease of private aviation meant there were no long queues or crowded departure halls.

Within a short time, their bags were being loaded onto the aircraft.

Francesco and Leah walked aboard together.

The cabin felt almost instantly familiar.

Quiet.

Spacious.

Comfortable.

They settled into their seats.

Leah looked out through the window.

"So that's it."

Francesco sat beside her.

"For Santorini."

She nodded.

He reached for her hand.

"We'll come back."

She smiled.

"Promise?"

"Promise."

The doors closed.

The engines began to hum.

Francesco looked through the window as the aircraft moved across the tarmac.

Santorini remained outside.

For the last time on this trip, he watched the island from ground level.

Then the aircraft began its takeoff.

The runway rushed beneath them.

The island slowly fell away.

Leah turned toward the window.

"Look."

Francesco looked.

Santorini was becoming smaller beneath them.

The white buildings looked almost tiny against the volcanic landscape.

The Aegean stretched endlessly around the island.

From above, everything they had experienced during the week seemed to exist within one beautiful patch of blue and white.

Francesco leaned closer to the window.

He could pick out nothing specific anymore.

Not Oia.

Not Fira.

Not Red Beach.

Not the resort.

But he knew they were down there.

Somewhere beneath them were the streets they had walked.

The cafés where they had eaten.

The shops where Leah had spent far too much money.

The beaches where they had swum.

The viewpoints where they had taken hundreds of photographs.

The villa where they had finally learned what it felt like to have nowhere they needed to be.

Leah rested her head against his shoulder.

"That was exactly what we needed."

Francesco nodded.

"Yeah."

He looked down at the shrinking island.

"After everything…"

He didn't finish.

He didn't need to.

They both knew.

The World Cup had been extraordinary.

The final.

The celebrations.

The pressure.

The attention.

The responsibility.

Being England's captain.

Being the player everyone wanted to talk about.

There had been no time to breathe.

Santorini had given them that.

Not because anything dramatic had happened.

Quite the opposite.

Because nothing had.

They had walked.

They had eaten.

They had swum.

They had laughed.

They had shopped.

They had taken photographs.

They had slept.

They had simply been together.

And somehow, that had been enough.

Francesco squeezed Leah's hand.

"I think I'll remember this week for a long time."

"You'd better."

He smiled.

"I will."

The aircraft climbed higher.

Santorini gradually disappeared into the distance.

The blue of the Aegean became part of the horizon.

Eventually, there was nothing left to see but sky and clouds.

Leah looked at him.

"So."

Francesco smiled.

"So?"

"London."

He exhaled.

"London."

There was a slight change in his expression.

Not disappointment.

Not exactly excitement either.

Something more complicated.

The holiday was ending.

The world waiting for them was beginning again.

There would be football.

Arsenal.

Training.

Fixtures.

England.

Media.

Expectations.

The ordinary pressure of being one of the most recognizable young footballers in the world.

But Francesco wasn't dreading it.

Not anymore.

He felt rested.

Clearer.

The week had given him something he hadn't realized he needed.

Space.

He looked at Leah.

"We've still got some time before everything starts again."

She nodded.

"And we'll have the photographs."

He laughed.

"Thousands of them."

"Exactly."

She unlocked her phone and opened the gallery.

They began scrolling through them together.

The first morning.

Oia.

The Blue Domes.

The sea.

Red Beach.

Fira.

Their meals.

Their walks.

Their ridiculous selfies.

The sunsets.

The quiet moments.

The photographs Francesco had taken without Leah knowing.

The photographs Leah had taken while Francesco pretended to be annoyed.

They laughed as they went through them.

"That one is terrible."

"No, it's not."

"I look half asleep."

"You were."

"Delete it."

"Never."

He smiled.

"Fine."

The aircraft continued toward London.

Outside, the clouds stretched beneath them.

Inside, everything was calm.

Francesco leaned back.

Leah rested against him.

The holiday was over.

But it didn't feel lost.

It felt like something they had taken with them.

A week that belonged entirely to them.

A week without trophies or microphones.

Without tactics or training.

Without crowds telling them what they should feel.

A week where Francesco had simply been Francesco.

And Leah had simply been Leah.

Two people in love, wandering through a beautiful island with no particular reason to hurry.

The memories would remain.

In their phones.

In the souvenirs packed into their luggage.

In the photographs they would eventually print.

In the stories they would tell their families.

In the little jokes that would make sense only to them.

And perhaps, years later, they would look back at those photographs and remember not the famous places, but the smaller moments.

The laughter.

The long walks.

The quiet breakfasts.

The ridiculous shopping bags.

The swims.

The conversations.

The evenings when they had sat together with nowhere else to go.

Francesco looked once more toward the window.

Santorini was gone now.

London waited ahead.

He smiled.

The holiday was ending.

But their lives were moving forward.

And whatever came next, they would carry this week with them.

Leah squeezed his hand.

"You ready?"

Francesco looked at her.

This time, he didn't need to ask what she meant.

He nodded.

"Yeah."

She smiled.

"Good."

He leaned back into his seat.

For a few more minutes, neither spoke.

The aircraft continued its steady journey north.

For the first part of the flight, Francesco and Leah had remained close together, occasionally scrolling through the photographs from Santorini and laughing at memories that were still fresh enough to make them smile immediately.

Eventually, though, the tiredness of the past week began to catch up with them.

The cabin became quieter.

Leah rested against Francesco for a while, her eyes occasionally closing as she listened to the steady hum of the aircraft.

Francesco looked out through the window.

There was very little to see now except clouds and the pale blue sky above them.

It was strange.

Only a few hours earlier, they had been looking down at Santorini disappearing beneath the aircraft.

Now London was getting closer.

The journey lasted approximately three hours and forty-five minutes, and by the time the captain announced their descent, both of them were beginning to feel that familiar sensation of returning to ordinary life.

Leah sat up and stretched.

"We're nearly there."

Francesco nodded.

"Yeah."

She looked at him.

"How does it feel?"

He thought for a moment.

"Good."

"Good?"

"I'm ready to be home."

Leah smiled.

"Me too."

There was a pause.

"Although," Francesco added, "I already miss Santorini."

Leah laughed.

"You've been home for approximately thirty seconds in your head."

"I know."

The aircraft began descending.

Through the window, the familiar landscape of England slowly appeared beneath them.

Green fields.

Roads.

Buildings.

The sprawling shape of London becoming clearer as they came lower.

Francesco watched quietly.

There was something reassuring about seeing it again.

The place where his football life existed.

The place where his family lived.

The place where Cheddar was waiting.

That last thought made him smile.

Leah noticed.

"What?"

"Cheddar."

She laughed.

"You really missed him."

"I did."

"You missed me too, right?"

Francesco turned toward her.

"Of course."

"Just checking."

He smiled.

"But I definitely missed Cheddar."

She shook her head.

"You're obsessed with that dog."

"He's my boy."

"He's going to be very excited."

"I know."

"And probably completely spoiled."

"Definitely."

The private jet touched down smoothly.

The landing was gentle enough that neither of them said anything as the aircraft rolled toward its stopping position.

When the engines finally began winding down, Francesco released a quiet breath.

"Back."

Leah looked through the window.

"Back."

They gathered their belongings, making sure they hadn't left anything behind.

Phones.

Wallets.

Chargers.

Small bags.

Everything was collected.

They stepped down from the aircraft together, greeted by the cool London air after the warmth of Greece.

It felt different immediately.

Not unpleasant.

Just familiar.

The holiday atmosphere had disappeared almost instantly, replaced by the quieter rhythm of returning home.

Their luggage was handled for them, and Francesco arranged a luxury cab.

They could have gone straight to the mansion.

But there was one important stop to make first.

Cheddar.

As soon as they settled into the back seat, Francesco gave the driver the address of his parents' house.

Leah looked at him.

"You're actually more excited about seeing him than going home."

Francesco smiled.

"Maybe."

"Definitely."

"I haven't seen him in a week."

"You've been gone for seven days."

"Exactly."

She laughed.

"He survived."

"I know he survived."

"You're acting like we left him alone on a desert island."

"He's my dog."

Leah rested her head against the seat.

"I know."

The cab moved through London.

The city felt busier than Santorini had.

Traffic flowed around them.

People hurried along pavements.

Buses passed.

Buildings rose on either side of the road.

It was unmistakably London.

Francesco watched the city through the window, but his attention kept returning to the same thought.

Soon.

Soon he'd see Cheddar.

The closer they came to his parents' house, the more obvious his excitement became.

Leah noticed and smiled.

"You're smiling again."

"Am I?"

"Yes."

"Can't help it."

She laughed.

"You really missed him."

"Yeah."

This time, Francesco didn't even try to deny it.

Eventually, the cab turned onto the familiar street.

Francesco straightened immediately.

"There."

Leah looked ahead.

His parents' house came into view.

Mike and Sarah were already waiting.

The moment the cab stopped, Francesco was reaching for the door.

"Easy," Leah laughed. "We're not running away."

He grinned.

They stepped out.

Mike opened the front door before they had even reached it.

"There they are!"

Francesco smiled.

"Hi, Dad."

Mike pulled him into a hug.

"Welcome home."

Sarah appeared behind him and immediately embraced Leah.

"It's so good to see you both."

Leah smiled.

"It feels good to be back."

Sarah stepped aside.

"So? How was Santorini?"

"Amazing," Leah said.

"Absolutely amazing," Francesco added.

Mike laughed.

"I want photographs."

"You're going to get plenty."

Before anyone could say anything else, a familiar sound came from inside the house.

Quick little footsteps.

Then Cheddar appeared.

Francesco's entire expression changed.

"There he is!"

The corgi hurried toward them, tail moving furiously.

He recognized Francesco immediately.

And Leah.

The moment he reached them, Francesco dropped to his knees.

"Hey, buddy!"

Cheddar practically threw himself against him.

Francesco laughed as the dog climbed against his chest, tail wagging so hard that his entire body seemed to move with it.

"I missed you."

He hugged him carefully, stroking both ears.

"You've gotten bigger."

Mike laughed.

"He hasn't."

"I swear he has."

"He's just been eating well."

Leah crouched beside them.

"Hi, Cheddar!"

Cheddar immediately turned toward her and began enthusiastically licking her hand.

Leah laughed.

"Oh, you missed us too."

Francesco scratched behind his ears.

"Did you behave?"

Mike folded his arms.

"Mostly."

Francesco looked up.

"Mostly?"

Sarah smiled.

"He behaved perfectly."

Mike interrupted.

"He was spoiled rotten."

Sarah laughed.

"He deserved it."

Francesco looked at Cheddar.

"You've been having a holiday too, haven't you?"

Cheddar wagged his tail.

"See?" Mike said. "He doesn't even feel guilty."

They eventually brought Cheddar back into the house, where he continued moving between Francesco and Leah as if making absolutely certain neither of them disappeared again.

They sat together for a while.

Sarah asked about Santorini.

Francesco and Leah told them about Oia, Red Beach and Fira.

They described the restaurants, the swimming, the long walks and the sunsets.

Leah showed them photographs.

Soon, Mike and Sarah were scrolling through image after image.

"This is beautiful," Sarah said.

"That's Red Beach," Leah explained.

Mike looked at another photograph.

"And this?"

"Fira."

"There are a lot of photographs."

Francesco laughed.

"You should see Leah's phone."

Leah gave him a look.

"Don't start."

Sarah smiled.

"How many?"

"Over a thousand."

Mike laughed.

"Seriously?"

"I told you," Francesco said.

Leah defended herself.

"We were making memories."

Sarah nodded.

"And you did."

They talked about the shopping too.

Mike looked at the bags.

"You bought all this?"

Leah smiled.

"Some of it."

Francesco raised an eyebrow.

"Some?"

She laughed.

Sarah shook her head affectionately.

"It sounds like you had a wonderful time."

"We did," Francesco said.

His voice became slightly quieter.

"It went really quickly."

Mike nodded.

"That's what holidays do."

They stayed together a little longer, enjoying the simple familiarity of being home with family.

Eventually, though, Francesco stood.

"We should probably take this little guy with us."

Cheddar looked up as if he understood.

Sarah smiled.

"He's ready."

Mike crouched and gave Cheddar a final scratch.

"You've got your people back."

Francesco laughed.

"Thanks for looking after him."

Sarah hugged him.

"Anytime."

"And thank you," Leah added.

"We loved having him."

Francesco picked up the bags.

"We'll come back soon."

"Don't wait too long," Mike said.

"We won't."

After another round of goodbyes, Francesco and Leah carried their belongings outside.

Cheddar followed happily.

Another luxury cab was waiting.

They settled into the back, with Cheddar comfortably beside them.

The moment the car began moving, Cheddar curled himself against Francesco.

Francesco looked down.

"Finally."

Leah laughed.

"You've got him back."

"I do."

Cheddar rested his head against Francesco's leg.

Francesco stroked his ears.

"I missed this."

Leah smiled.

The journey toward the mansion continued.

For the first few minutes, they simply watched London pass outside.

Then Leah leaned back.

"It feels strange."

"What?"

"Being back."

Francesco nodded.

"Yeah."

Santorini had been so different.

There, they had woken without alarms, wandered without plans and gone to sleep without thinking about the next morning.

Here, their lives were waiting.

But for tonight, they still had a little space.

They had no immediate match.

No training session that evening.

No reason to rush.

And Cheddar was back where he belonged.

That made the transition easier.

Eventually, the familiar entrance to Francesco's mansion appeared.

The cab pulled to a stop.

Cheddar immediately lifted his head.

Francesco smiled.

"Home."

They stepped out.

Their luggage was brought inside, and Cheddar immediately began exploring the house.

He moved from room to room, sniffing familiar corners and investigating everything as though he needed to confirm that nothing had changed.

Leah laughed.

"He's checking the place."

"He's making sure everything is still his."

Cheddar eventually seemed satisfied.

He returned to the living room and settled into his familiar spot.

Francesco looked at him.

"Happy?"

Cheddar gave a small movement of his tail.

"I'll take that as yes."

Upstairs, the suitcases were opened.

Leah immediately began unpacking.

Clothes came out first.

Then shoes.

Then toiletries.

Then accessories.

Then the various things they had purchased throughout the week.

She carefully folded the new outfits and placed them away.

Every so often, she stopped.

"Oh, I forgot about this."

Francesco looked over.

"What is it?"

She held up an item she had bought in Fira.

"This."

He smiled.

"I remember that."

"I loved it when I saw it."

"You had about twenty minutes of internal debate."

"I did not."

"You absolutely did."

She laughed and put it away.

Another item appeared.

"And this was from Oia."

Francesco looked.

"That's nice."

"I know."

She continued sorting.

Jewelry.

Small souvenirs.

Gifts.

Artwork.

Things they had bought because they reminded them of the island.

The suitcases slowly became emptier.

The memories, somehow, remained everywhere.

Meanwhile, Francesco sat nearby with his phone.

He opened the gallery.

There they were again.

Santorini.

Thousands of photographs.

He began choosing.

Not everything.

Just the ones that felt like them.

A photograph of Leah in Oia.

One of the two of them beneath the Blue Domes.

Francesco standing beside the red cliffs of Red Beach.

Leah laughing near the shoreline.

A photograph of the sea.

Another of a sunset.

A meal they had shared.

A candid photograph of Leah looking toward the water.

One of Francesco laughing after she'd splashed him.

A photograph of them walking through Fira.

Another of them sitting together at a café.

He kept scrolling.

There were too many good ones.

Eventually, he selected a small collection.

Leah glanced over.

"What are you doing?"

"Picking some photographs."

"For what?"

"You'll see."

He opened Instagram.

He arranged the photographs carefully.

Oia.

The Blue Domes.

Red Beach.

Fira.

The sea.

A sunset.

A meal.

One of them together.

He looked through the collection once more.

Then he wrote a caption.

Nothing complicated.

Nothing explanatory.

Just a heart.

❤️

He hesitated for half a second.

Then tapped post.

The photographs went live.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then the first notification appeared.

Then another.

Then several more.

Francesco smiled.

Leah noticed.

"What?"

He turned the phone toward her.

She leaned closer.

"Oh."

Another notification appeared.

Then another.

Likes began accumulating.

Comments followed.

Friends.

Teammates.

Footballers.

Supporters.

Followers.

People reacting to the scenery.

Complimenting the photographs.

Commenting on how beautiful Santorini looked.

Others noticed Francesco and Leah together and responded warmly to the rare glimpse into their private holiday.

Francesco watched the numbers climb.

"That's quick."

Leah laughed.

"You have millions of people waiting for you to post."

"I don't usually post that much."

"Exactly."

Another wave of notifications arrived.

Francesco shook his head.

"They're going crazy."

Leah returned to unpacking.

"You did this to yourself."

He smiled.

"I know."

She picked up another souvenir.

"Where did this come from?"

"Fira."

She looked over.

"See? You remember."

"I remember everything."

Leah smiled.

"Good."

Francesco continued watching his phone.

The comments kept appearing.

Some friends joked about his holiday.

Some teammates teased him.

Others simply left heart emojis.

Supporters thanked him for sharing the photographs.

There were comments about the scenery, comments about Leah, comments about how happy they looked.

Francesco didn't respond to most of them.

He simply watched with amusement.

The public world had found its way into their home again.

But somehow, tonight, it didn't feel intrusive.

The holiday remained theirs.

The photographs were theirs.

The memories were theirs.

Instagram could only see the small part they had chosen to share.

Leah finally finished with the last suitcase.

She closed it and looked across the room.

"You're still watching the likes?"

Francesco looked at his screen.

"Maybe."

She walked over.

"How many?"

He showed her.

She laughed.

"That's ridiculous."

"It is."

"You posted one heart."

"I know."

"And people are losing their minds."

Francesco smiled.

"Apparently."

She sat beside him.

Cheddar wandered into the room a moment later, looked at both of them and then settled down near their feet.

Francesco looked down.

"There he is."

Leah rested her head against his shoulder.

Their luggage was finally unpacked.

Their new belongings were finding places around the house.

Cheddar was home.

And the photographs of Santorini were still filling Francesco's screen with notifications.

For a week, they had managed to step away from everything.

Now they were back.

But the holiday hadn't really disappeared.

It was sitting inside their phones.

Inside the souvenirs around them.

Inside the stories they would tell.

Inside the little memories that already felt like they belonged to another version of their lives.

Francesco locked his phone and placed it beside him.

Leah looked at him.

"Happy to be home?"

He smiled.

"Yeah."

He looked down at Cheddar.

"Very."

Then he glanced toward Leah.

"But I think we had a pretty perfect week."

She smiled.

"We did."

Outside, London carried on beneath the night sky.

Inside the mansion, everything was quiet again.

The football world could wait until morning.

For tonight, Francesco had Leah beside him, Cheddar at his feet, and a thousand memories of Santorini sitting safely in his phone.

__________________________________________________

Name : Francesco Lee

Age : 19 (2017)

Birthplace : London, England

Football Club : Arsenal First Team

Championship History : 2014/2015 Premier League, 2014/2015 FA Cup, 2015/2016 Community Shield, 2016/2017 Premier League, 2015/2016 Champions League, Euro 2016, Premier League Champion 2016/2017, FA Cup 2016/2017, 2016/2017 Champions League, 2017/2018 Carabao Cup, Premier League 2017/2018, FA Cup 2017/2018, Champions League 2017/2018, and 2018 World Cup.

Season 17/18 stats:

Arsenal:

Match: 59

Goal: 76

Assist: 6

MOTM: 7

POTM: 0

England:

Match: 11

Goal: 14

Assist: 1

MOTM: 7

Season 16/17 stats:

Arsenal:

Match: 55

Goal: 87

Assist: 5

MOTM: 14

POTM: 1

England:

Match: 1

Goal: 1

Assist: 0

MOTM: 0

Season 15/16 stats:

Arsenal:

Match Played: 60

Goal: 82

Assist: 10

MOTM: 9

POTM: 1

England:

Match Played: 2

Goal: 4

Assist: 0

Euro 2016

Match Played: 6

Goal: 13

Assist: 4

MOTM: 6

Season 14/15 stats:

Match Played: 35

Goal: 45

Assist: 12

MOTM: 9