Chapter 43: Homecoming
The sun filtered in softly through the blinds of the training center’s media room, casting slanted shadows on the carpeted floor. The light was golden, almost lazy, as if even the sun itself had no desire to rush the day forward. It was Friday, but something about it didn’t feel like the usual end-of-week relief. The air was still. Too still.
Alex Walker sat in his office with a slight lean in his chair, his elbows resting on the armrests, fingers steepled just beneath his chin, and his eyes flicking toward the digital clock on the wall. 10:22 a.m. The press conference was scheduled for eleven sharp. He wasn’t late. Not yet. But the silence in the room only made his own heartbeat sound louder in his ears.
He told himself he wasn’t nervous. And maybe he really wasn’t. Not exactly. But there was definitely something gnawing at him, something crawling around beneath the surface of his calm expression. It wasn’t fear. It wasn’t dread. Just a weight he couldn’t name, a fog he couldn’t quite clear.
Then came a knock at the door. It wasn’t hesitant, but it wasn’t aggressive either. Just one of those knocks that made it clear the person on the other side already had a hand on the handle.
Before Alex could even answer, the door swung open.
Isabella stepped inside, her expression somewhere between amused and concerned. Her arms were folded loosely over her chest and she held a steaming cup of coffee in one hand.
"You look like you’re about to face a firing squad," she said, her voice teasing but gentle.
Alex didn’t even flinch. He tilted his head to one side slightly, a wry smirk curling on his lips. "Same thing, isn’t it?"
She rolled her eyes and crossed the room to hand him the coffee. "They’re not going to eat you alive, you know."
He took the cup, gave it a quick sip, and grimaced a little. Lukewarm. Probably one of those vending machine ones that had been sitting there all morning. Still, it was better than nothing. "Depends on how much they ask about Inter," he muttered.
"You mean the club you bled for, won titles with, captained through some of their biggest nights?" she asked casually, leaning against the edge of his desk. "Yeah, I’m sure they’ll have one or two questions."