When Izan stepped into the apartment, the smell hit him first.
Warm, sharp, buttery.
He shut the door behind him and dropped his duffel bag by the wall, kicking off his slides before padding toward the kitchen.
Olivia stood barefoot at the stove, hair tied back, one hand flicking a wooden spoon through a pot of something creamy and steaming.
"You're home early," she said, not turning around.
"Arteta ended the session a little short. Tactical drills got cut. I think he wanted to reset the vibe."
"Mmm," she murmured. "I'm guessing 'the vibe' is code for 'you trying to take on five players again?'"
Izan snorted, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge.
"He talked to me. Not in a bad way. Just… honest. Said I was playing against ghosts last game."
Olivia finally turned to him, her expression soft but expectant.
"Was he wrong?"
He didn't answer right away.
He just shrugged, leaning on the counter.
"I don't know. I was just a bit out of it."
