"Yes, I'm outside your dorms. Come, come—I have something I want to talk to you about."
Isabella King said this softly into the phone as she stood in the parking area designated for parents and staff, right beside the La Masia dorms. Her eyes drifted upward as she spoke, settling on the familiar words written neatly along the side of the building—Més que un club—curved and bold against the stone wall, carrying a weight that went far beyond football.
As she finished speaking, she lowered her phone and let her arm fall to her side. A small frown crept onto her face, one that carried more emotion than annoyance.
"Why is he so shocked," she muttered quietly, almost to herself, "as if I don't visit him…"
The words came out a little unhappy, but beneath that tone sat something heavier—guilt. Real guilt. The kind that lingered even when she tried to ignore it. After the Inter squad tournament, when she and her husband had attended and watched Mateo play, they had promised each other they would be more present. More supportive. They had sworn they would attend his matches more often, call him more, show up for him not just as parents, but as anchors in his journey.
They wanted to be there for him—not just when he succeeded, but through every step, every pressure, every expectation that came with wearing that badge. They knew how heavy it all was for a boy his age, no matter how talented he was.
But fate, as always, had other plans.
A couple of days after that promise, a fanatic Barcelona fan had walked into their family restaurant. He had been muttering strange things under his breath, talking about tracking them, asking questions—too many questions—about whether they really were Mateo King's parents. Isabella remembered how she and her husband hadn't thought much of it at the time. They were proud—extremely proud—of their son. So when the man asked, they had smiled and answered yes without hesitation.
From Isabella's memory, the boy was… unusual. Not threatening, just overly eager. He had asked for permission to record them and pulled out a camera. The questions that followed were harmless—normal, even sweet. What was Mateo like as a kid? Who was his favorite footballer? How good was he when he was small? Where did his talent come from?
Lighthearted, funny questions. The kind that made parents reminisce.
Isabella and her husband had been happy to answer. Seeing someone so interested in their child filled them with warmth. They weren't entirely sure why he wanted to record it, but he had said he was a streamer—or something like that. Isabella still wasn't completely sure what that meant.
What she did know was that not long after the boy left, their shop exploded.
It had already been doing well since people in the neighborhood knew they were Mateo's parents and had started coming more frequently, but now it was on another level entirely. The place was constantly full, so rushed that even Andrew—her brother-in-law—had to come help out on days he was free.
Isabella was not dumb—she knew exactly why they were here, especially since they had just turned the corner where she displayed the family portrait in the tourism center. People often stopped to take photos of it, whispering and pointing, and while she couldn't bring herself to stop them, she found a quiet satisfaction in it. Especially when she saw the smile on David's face—her husband practically radiated joy.
It had always been his dream to see the restaurant thriving, to watch the fruits of their hard work draw attention and admiration. Isabella remembered the few times she had seen him this genuinely happy: when she had said yes to marrying him, on their wedding day and night, when his brother joined his law firm, the day Mateo was born, and most recently, when their son debuted and they saw him on TV for the first time. Seeing David glowing like this, seeing the pride in his eyes, Isabella had wholeheartedly decided to support him in any way she could.
Yet the reality was more complicated. The customers just kept coming, and coming, and coming, demanding her attention, her care, her energy. Isabella felt torn—torn between fulfilling the promise she had made to Mateo to be more present in his life, to attend his games and cheer him on, and helping her husband manage the rush at the restaurant that meant so much to him. She tried to balance the two worlds, but she couldn't, and the truth weighed on her heart: until this day, she had not even been to a single one of Mateo's matches. That knowledge pinched her like a quiet ache she carried wherever she went.
Thankfully, a few days ago, David had hired two new staff members, which gave her the rare opportunity to head back to her family home. Though some changes had occurred in the house, she was pleased with her visit. She relished seeing her best friend again, the comfort of familiar rooms and familiar smells, and finally, for once, being able to relax.
The undisputed star of Isabella's weekend, however, was Olivia. The girl was simply remarkable. Kind, considerate, and thoughtful; beautiful, not just in appearance but in the warmth she radiated; ambitious, intelligent, and talented; someone with the kind of spirit that lifted the people around her. Since Mateo had begun to rise in prominence, Olivia, having grown up in a sports-crazed family herself, understood how intense some fans could get—especially some women who idolized male sports stars.
Even while growing up, Isabella had seen how far some women could go for the players they adored. She remembered a friend of hers who had been utterly obsessed with a player from a second division team that had eventually been relegated to the third division. That friend had gone to absurd lengths—some things bordering on reckless—to get close to him. There were stories of breaking into his home, sneaking around, doing all sorts of things, some of which Isabella and Nora had quietly helped with, shaking their heads at the audacity. From those experiences, Isabella learned just how intense, and sometimes downright crazy, fan obsession could become.
Now, with her own son playing at a high-profile club like FC Barcelona, she knew she had to be smart. Isabella wasn't a fool. She understood that one of the best ways to deflect half the temptations and distractions from overzealous female admirers was to ensure Mateo had someone special in his life—a girl who could occupy his attention in a healthy, grounded way. For everything else, she trusted her instincts, careful planning, and conversations with Nora, and after seeing Olivia herself, Isabella felt confident that her plan was solid.
With the addition of new staff at the restaurant, she now had more freedom to fulfill the promise she had made to Mateo—to be there for him without smothering him. She understood perfectly well that teenagers at his age would not want their mother hovering around constantly. Her role wasn't to control but to support, to show she was always present in ways that mattered. And the girlfriend situation—well, compared to talking to a mother, she knew a young boy would often be more open to confiding in a bright, kind, and intelligent young woman. Of course, she could never force Mateo or Olivia into anything if either wasn't interested, but she could pave the way, lay the groundwork, and give them every opportunity to connect naturally.
Her secret weapon in all of this? Aina Maria Cerdà—her niece, Mateo's cousin, and Olivia's best friend. Aina had agreed to help, practically taking over much of the groundwork, and part of the reason Isabella had come today was to lay the foundation for the plan in person. She smiled to herself, imagining the quiet orchestration of events, the careful nudges, the conversations that would lead to something beautiful and right, if the timing and willingness were there.
"But… what's taking so long?" Isabella muttered under her breath, glancing toward the entrance. It had been a while now, and Mateo still hadn't shown up.
She was still mulling over her thoughts when a familiar voice came from behind her. "Aunt Isabella?"
Startled, she turned around, her eyes lighting up with recognition. "Maria?"
Standing in front of her was her niece—the very one she had just been thinking about moments ago. The coincidence made her smile faintly, a warm tug in her chest.
Aina spoke quickly, almost matter-of-factly. "The driver is around me, and Olivia will soon be heading out to check the studio her label recommended."
Isabella's eyes widened in shock. "Already?" she whispered, reaching instinctively for her phone. She swiped through it and saw that over five minutes had already passed. Her brow furrowed as she muttered, "Can't your driver wait a bit?"
She tapped on the screen again, about to call her cousin directly. "Let me call your cousin again—"
Aina put a hand gently on her aunt's arm, stopping her. "Don't stress yourself, Aunt. We really can't wait."
Isabella's smile faltered, and her lips formed a small, sad "Ooh." She felt a pang of worry at how quickly things were moving, the pace of her carefully laid plans suddenly feeling rushed.
Aina, noticing her aunt's expression, quickly continued. "Also, there's no need to rush it. They will meet eventually. We already have a plan; it's not important that they meet right now."
Isabella exhaled, a small nod accompanying her words. "I know, I know… okay. You should be going then. Don't keep Olivia or the driver waiting." She tried to infuse cheer into her tone, wishing them off properly.
Aina paused at the edge of the parking area, glanced back, and said with a small smile, "Just make sure you get Mateo to agree. As for the others, I'll handle it."
Isabella waved at her, warmth and relief mingling in her chest. "Bye! Journey safely, love you—take care!" She watched her niece disappear toward the car, still waving long after Aina had turned the corner.
Just then, her brother—Oriol—who had brought them all here, started walking toward her. Aina, noticing him, greeted him lightly on her way. "Later, Dad."
Oriol smiled back at his daughter warmly. "Bye, princess. Make sure you stay safe."
Aina waved nonchalantly and didn't even glance back as she walked away.
Oriol finally reached Isabella, his cheerful smile fading into a more judgy, scrutinizing look. He came to her side, crossing his arms slightly, examining her face.
Isabella met his gaze, returning a hint of challenge. "What?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.
Oriol shook his head slowly. "Nothing."
Isabella smirked, the faint edge of teasing in her voice. "Better."
She then added, curiosity mixed with mild frustration, "What are you doing here?"
"I came to check on you, to ask if everything is okay," Oriol said, his tone softening, though a seriousness lingered.
Isabella let out a quiet sigh, uncertainty creeping into her voice. "I don't know either… I've called him since, but it seems he might be busy. How's mother?"
"She is getting restless," Oriol replied, shaking his head slightly. "You know she hates staying inside the car, but Nora is calming her down."
While the siblings were talking, Aina had already made her way toward the car to tell Olivia they could leave. She had waved goodbye to her grandma and mom, small gestures that made her heart feel full, and now she walked alongside Olivia toward the gate side. To pass through the gates, you either had to be a staff member or a parent or family of a kid inside, so the driver waited just outside—and that was exactly where they were heading.
As they strolled, Olivia glanced back once, her expression trying to seem nonchalant, but Aina could read the faint hesitation in her eyes. "Your cousin isn't around yet?" she asked, her voice careful, as though she didn't want to seem too eager.
Aina shook her head with a small shrug, teasing in tone. "I don't know what he's doing. He's always liked being late."
She slowed a step, giving Olivia a playful look from the corner of her eye. "Why'd you ask? Did you want to see him?" The teasing note in her voice made Olivia blush just slightly.
"It's nothing, I was just asking," Olivia mumbled, trying to maintain her composure.
Aina hummed in response, letting the moment hang for just a beat before she tilted her head toward her friend. "So… how does it feel? You're finally about to finish your album."
"I'm so nervous," Olivia admitted, a soft tremor of excitement in her voice.
Aina raised an eyebrow, her tone teasing but warm. "You've legit recorded ten songs already. Why are you still getting nervous?"
Olivia's lips curved into a small, uncertain smile, her eyes lighting up as she paused, searching for the right words. "…I know, I know, but… it's just—" She took a breath, her voice trembling slightly between fear and exhilaration. "…I can't believe it. I'm really about to release an album. Like… an actual album. It feels so unreal. I've wanted this for so long, and now it's finally happening…"
Her joy radiated outward, her eyes sparkling with excitement. Aina grinned at her, sensing the mix of nerves and happiness, and reached over to squeeze her hand lightly.
As Olivia spoke, she suddenly noticed someone by the gate, just outside the academy, wearing a hoodie and bending down to tie his shoes. Her attention flickered to him for a brief second, curiosity rising, but before she could dwell on it, she felt Aina lean slightly on her shoulder.
"Aina?" she asked, surprised but comforted.
Aina laughed softly, the sound warm and easy. "I'm so happy for you," she said, her eyes twinkling with genuine pride.
Olivia returned a small, soft smile, her nerves momentarily eased by her friend's presence.
Aina chuckled again, teasing lightly, "Just remember to say my name when you're receiving your Grammy."
The two of them laughed together, giggling quietly, the sound mingling with the soft rustle of leaves near the gate.
Aina suddenly glanced toward the road, her voice brightening. "Oo, that should be the car."
Still giggling mid-laugh, the two of them walked off toward the waiting vehicle, Olivia's hair brushing lightly against the stranger's head by the gate as they passed. Both girls burst into another fit of quiet giggles, their laughter trailing behind them as they headed toward the car.
...
"Lavender."
Mateo muttered the word under his breath as the scent reached him, soft but distinct, cutting through the usual mix of cut grass, rubber, and detergent that clung to La Masia's grounds. He paused for half a second, confused by how much he liked it, then finished tying his shoelace and slowly raised his head. His eyes drifted to the right, searching for the source of the smell.
All he caught was the backs of two ladies pressed close together, walking in sync as they laughed, clearly glued to each other, their voices light and carefree. Mateo stared for a brief moment longer than necessary before snapping out of it. He straightened up, shoved the thought aside, and turned away, already moving toward the direction his mom had called him from.
She's going to scold me for being late again, he thought with a tired sigh.
Mateo had a reputation for being late, but in his own mind, it was always justified. Like the Inter-squad tournament—Gavi swore Mateo was late, but Mateo hadn't even known he was going to go in the first place. Or that time the coach scolded him after he and Messi arrived late for the Villarreal trip, right after they'd gone to old lady Manuela's house. That one was still ridiculous. They'd arrived at the exact same time, yet only Mateo got yelled at while Messi stood there as the coach acted like he was invisible. Pure injustice.
And this time? He'd actually left the locker room on time after receiving his mom's call.
Still—there was no way he was stepping outside with his haircut fully exposed like this. No chance. So he'd headed toward his dorm to grab a hoodie, only to find it locked, and of course, Gavi had the key. Mateo knew exactly where Gavi probably was—still hanging around the training hall with the others—but there was no way in hell he was walking back there looking like this. Not to those demons. Even if Pedri had already sent the video, Mateo was determined to delay that shame for as long as humanly possible.
That left him with no option but to head back toward the first-team side of the building and ask a team liaison if they could get him one of the club's hoodie. Since he was already there, he passed through the front entrance instead of circling back through the dorms.
Yes, it's always someone else's fault. I'm innocent, he thought, fully satisfied that his logic made perfect sense.
Shortly after all that, Mateo finally made his way toward the car park side. It didn't take long to find what he was looking for. First, there were hardly any cars around. Second—and more importantly—Mateo recognized his uncle's car instantly the moment he saw it. The smile on his face widened without him even realizing it.
Don't tell me… he thought, and unknowingly his steps began to quicken as he moved faster and faster toward the car.
As he got closer, Mateo began to hear a familiar voice drifting from near the car.
"Mother, just wait. I'm sure they'll come soon."
Mateo slowed instinctively, his brows knitting together. Is that Aunt Nora? he wondered as he then thought to what she said. Wait… did she come too? The thought felt strange the moment it crossed his mind. Everyone knew exactly how much his grandmother hated sitting inside cars for long periods. She complained about it endlessly. Surely she wouldn't—
Before he could dismiss it, an aged female voice followed, slightly irritated, sharp around the edges, yet unmistakably warm beneath it. To Mateo, no matter how much she complained, that voice was beautiful.
She was muttering about how her legs were hurting her, how sitting like this was unreasonable, how nobody ever listened to her anymore, piling one grievance on top of another.
That was all the confirmation he needed.
Mateo broke into a quick stride and reached the car in seconds. He yanked the door open with such force that the sound echoed slightly, his smile already threatening to split his face in two. Nora had just opened her mouth to speak when she startled at the sudden movement, cutting herself off mid-word.
Núria froze as well, her complaints silenced instantly as she turned her head toward the open door, ready to scold whoever dared—
But before she could say a single thing, she felt a sudden weight crash into her.
"Abuelaaa!"
Mateo jumped onto her, arms wrapping tightly around her shoulders as he buried his face against her, holding her like he'd been starving for it. Núria gasped in shock, then quickly regained herself, laughter bubbling out of her as she instinctively wrapped her arms around him.
"El meu príncep?" she muttered, her voice softening instantly.
Hearing the nickname she'd called him since he was little made something twist warmly in Mateo's chest. He hugged her even tighter, almost shaking her in his excitement.
"I missed you so much, Abuela."
Núria laughed again, full and genuine, hugging him back just as tightly, patting his back with affection as if he hadn't grown at all. Nora watched the scene tenderly before finally speaking.
"Mateo, you know your grandmother is weak. Don't hug her too tightly."
Núria immediately shot her a look and waved her off. "Who asked you? Did I say it was paining me, eh? Leave my grandson alone."
She pulled Mateo closer again, refusing to let him go, while he happily stayed wrapped in her embrace. Nora, completely used to this, could only shake her head with a small smile.
"Let me go and call Isabella and Oriol and tell them you are here."
...
"Where have you been, letting us wait like that?"
A few seconds had barely passed before Isabella, having just been told by Nora that Mateo was back, fixed him with that familiar look and began scolding him. Her tone wasn't harsh, just firm—the kind that came from care rather than anger.
"I've told you about this bad habit of yours," she continued, folding her arms slightly. "You need to get rid of it. Do you know how long your grandmother has been waiting?"
Mateo, still wrapped comfortably in his grandmother's arms, tried to protest, his voice muffled slightly as he leaned into her. "It wasn't my fault, and I didn't know Abuela was around—"
"Excuses, excuses," Isabella cut in, shaking her head, though there was no real heat in it. "It's always excuses with you."
Before Mateo could defend himself any further, Núria clicked her tongue sharply, clearly unhappy with the way things were going. She tightened her hold on him just a little, as if staking her claim.
"The kid said it wasn't his fault," Núria said, her voice firm. "Why are you still attacking him? And did I complain to you? What is a few minutes of waiting for my príncep?"
Nora, standing nearby, twitched slightly at the words did I complain, her eyes flickering, but she wisely chose to say nothing.
Isabella let out a small sigh, rubbing her temple. "It's because you always cuddle him. That's why he's like this."
"I am not cuddling him," Núria shot back immediately. "And my grandson is perfect exactly the way he is."
Mateo, seizing the moment, nodded seriously. "It's only Grandma that loves me."
Isabella couldn't help it—she shook her head, the corner of her mouth lifting despite herself. She stepped closer, her tone softening as she reached out to rub Mateo's back gently. "How are you?"
Feeling that familiar touch, Mateo finally loosened his hold on his grandmother and turned fully toward his mother. He hugged her too, just as tightly. "I'm fine," he said quietly. "Missed you too."
"Kid, don't forget us."
The voice came from the side, loud and cheerful. Mateo lifted his head instantly, a grin spreading across his face.
"Uncle Oriol."
They both laughed as Oriol opened his arms wide and called out, "Come here, boy." Mateo stepped into the hug without hesitation, the two of them laughing as Oriol squeezed him hard. It didn't last long—Oriol pulled back quickly, hands already on Mateo's shoulders.
"Look at you," he said, shaking him slightly. "All grown up." He chuckled, eyes shining. "You've been insane—absolutely insane. I watched every match from when you came on against Huesca. Ask your grandmother, I nearly fell off my seat. Then that goal— even the way you bodied that player, Gracia, I almost died there."
He kept going, the words spilling out as only family could manage. "Then PSG, then Bayern—" His excitement ramped up before he leaned in, lowering his voice slightly. "Also Are you ready for City? Is the team okay? Do you think we can win? Does the gaffer have a plan"
Mid-sentence, Oriol suddenly yelped, jerking slightly to the side.
Nora had pinched him.
"You're seeing your nephew for the first time in a while," she said pointedly, "and you jump straight to football. What's wrong with you?"
"Aunty Nora."
Mateo turned to her with a smile, stepping in for a hug. She hugged him back warmly, patting his shoulder.
"Hey, Mateo."
A few moments Later.
"Yeah, I'm sure Uncle Andrew already told you, but I'm moving out of the dorms in three days' time," Mateo said casually. "The club informed me that the apartment is ready. Me and the guys will head there with my stuff the day after the Man City match."
By then, everyone had already settled properly inside the car. Twenty full minutes had passed, yet the conversation hadn't slowed for even a second. Like most family gatherings, nearly all of it somehow circled back to Mateo—his life, his routines, his future. Mateo himself was eating as he spoke, spoon moving steadily as he kept talking without missing a beat.
At the mention of him moving out, Isabella and Nora exchanged a quiet look, a shared, silent acknowledgment passing between them. No words were needed—just the understanding that it was time to strike.
Núria noticed a bit of food slip from Mateo's mouth and immediately reached over, wiping it gently with practiced ease. Mateo barely even paused.
"Thanks, Abuela," he said softly.
Oriol watched the interaction, then cleared his throat exaggeratedly. "Mother, now that Mateo has taken his share, can I pour now?"
Núria had cooked escudella i carn d'olla, insisting fiercely that Mateo looked skinny in an interview she had watched. Even though she had made an entire pot, she had forbidden anyone else from touching it, declaring it was strictly for her grandson.
At Oriol's words, she scoffed. "Food, food, food. Is that all you know?"
"And football," Nora added calmly from beside her.
Isabella laughed at that, unable to stop herself. As Oriol started missing his farm.
Núria waved them off and continued, saying the rest was for Mateo to pack later. She then turned fully toward him, eyes narrowing with concern as she watched him practically sucking the bowl clean. "See how skinny he is," she complained. "Aren't they cooking for you? Why aren't you eating properly?"
Mateo finally finished and used the sleeve of his hoodie to wipe the remaining stains from his mouth. Immediately, Isabella lightly tapped his hand, giving him a disapproving look. Mateo only smiled, unfazed.
"I'm eating," he said quickly. "I'm just on a diet."
Then he laughed, shaking his head. "But I really missed Abuela's cooking. It's the best in the world."
Isabella glanced sideways. "I'll make sure your dad hears that."
Everyone burst into laughter.
Mateo chuckled too, then suddenly frowned slightly. "That's true though—why didn't you guys say you were coming?"
"Since you wouldn't come," Isabella replied simply, "everyone decided to come visit you."
"It's not like I didn't want to come," Mateo started.
Oriol cut in smoothly, waving a hand. "We know, we know. You're busy."
Meanwhile, Núria gently took the empty bowl from Mateo's hands and began tidying him up, brushing imaginary crumbs away as if he were still ten years old. Nora, watching, smiled before speaking up.
"And it's not just now," she added. "We've already gotten tickets for your match tomorrow. We'll be in the stands, cheering you on."
Mateo froze, eyes widening.
"No way."
Isabella leaned in and hugged him lightly, arms wrapping around his shoulders in a way that was warm but careful, as if she still saw the little boy in him. "Sorry it's taken so long for us to watch you play live," she said softly.
Mateo shook his head immediately, almost embarrassed by the apology. "It's no big deal, really," he said quickly. "I understand."
Then, as if remembering something important, he added, "The club has even given me a VIP section. I'll tell them you're coming so they can put you guys there."
Nora blinked in surprise. "VIP section?"
"Yeah," Mateo nodded. "They gave it to me when I signed my contract." He smiled as he explained, clearly proud but not boastful. "It's really nice—you'd love it. And there's an elevator that goes straight to the top floor, so Abuela doesn't have to stress herself."
At that, both Nora and Isabella smiled, relief and happiness spreading across their faces. Oriol, however, remained quiet, his expression unreadable.
After a brief pause, Oriol cleared his throat. "Ehm… Mateo, that's true about the match, but do you think it's possible for—"
"Don't worry, Uncle," Mateo cut in smoothly. "I'll ask if you can come too."
Oriol didn't even try to hide his reaction. "Yessss!" he shouted, pumping his fist in the air.
Mateo laughed, shaking his head. He knew very well that his uncle had been banned from Camp Nou before, but now that he was a first-team player, things were different. He'd ask one of the liaisons later—it wouldn't be a problem.
As the excitement settled, Isabella subtly tapped Nora's foot, gesturing with her eyes. Nora noticed immediately and nodded once before turning back to Mateo.
"That's true, Mateo," Nora said carefully. "I need a favor from you."
Mateo tilted his head slightly. "A favor?"
"Yes," Nora replied. "I'm sure your mother already told you—Aina is back in the country, and she came with a friend. The issue is that her friend is doing something here in the city, and it wouldn't be conducive for her to be coming from the countryside every day."
"And our place is too small for them," Isabella added gently.
"Yes," Nora continued. "So I was wondering if, after you move, they could come and stay with you for a couple of weeks until they're done with what they're doing."
From the side, Oriol watched the exchange unfold. He looked at his sister, then at his wife, his lips tightening as he shook his head slowly.
These women.
But Mateo, none the wiser, just shrugged and said, "Yeah, Mom told me she was back."
Nora raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Yeah? I'm surprised you didn't meet her when you were coming. It hadn't even been a single minute since you arrived that she had left."
Mateo shook his head, the tiniest flash of embarrassment crossing his features. "I didn't see her," he said, though for a brief second the memory of that lavender scent—the two girls' backs laughing and moving together—flashed through his mind.
"That's fine," he added quickly, trying to sound confident, "when I'm done moving in, I'll call you so they can come. The apartment's apparently three rooms, so it'll be okay."
As he finished speaking, Nora and Isabella exchanged a glance, their eyes sparkling with quiet victory. Both struggled to contain the laughter bubbling up between them, barely holding it back. Mateo, meanwhile, looked between them, bewildered, noticing the strange, triumphant glint in their expressions.
Before he could make sense of it, he felt a tug on his hoodie.
"Why are you wearing this?" came a familiar, playful scold. Mateo looked down to see his grandmother, tiny but determined, pulling at the fabric. "Aren't you feeling hot in that thing? Are you trying to roast yourself or what?"
Mateo jumped back slightly, a nervous laugh escaping him. "No, no, Abuela! I'm fine! I'm not hot! Really! It's—uh—it's, you know, breezy in here—yes, breezy!" His hands flailed briefly as he tried to emphasize just how cool he was, only making it look more ridiculous.
Isabella, finally done celebrating her little victory with Nora, turned her attention toward the scene of grandmother and grandson. She squinted, then leaned closer, her eyes widening in absolute horror.
"What happened to your hair?!" she practically screamed, her hands shooting toward him as she dragged the hood down as everyone froze in shock.
729 Meters from each other .
A/N
Hey guys,
I just wanted to say thank you for all the support this book has been getting. I honestly didn't expect it to take off like this—I started posting it simply because it's something I genuinely enjoy. Seeing so many of you connect with it means a lot to me.
If you're enjoying the story, feel free to leave a review or drop some power stones—every bit of support really helps.
Thank you all so much 🤍