Chapter 406: Waxing Lyrical

Around the same time Manchester City’s dressing room was filling with laughter and noise, the Etihad stands were slowly beginning to empty.

The celebrations had lasted long after the final whistle. Home supporters had stayed behind to applaud the players, to sing through the post-match lap, to watch Lukas lift the match ball above his head while his teammates pushed him toward the front of the group. But now, little by little, the blue shirts began filing toward the exits, scarves still raised, voices still carrying the songs of a derby victory that would be discussed across Manchester for weeks.

In the hospitality section near the upper tier, Joanna finally stood up beside Javi.

She had clapped until her palms hurt.

Her cheeks still ached from smiling.

Even now, as the players disappeared down the tunnel and the stadium screens continued showing the scoreline, she kept glancing toward the pitch as if part of her expected Lukas to come back out again.

Javi smiled at her reaction but said nothing. He simply waited as she gathered her things, then began walking with her toward the aisle.

Behind them, Lexi called out.

"Joanna!"

Joanna turned.

Lexi was standing beside Roger and Jane, her Manchester United shirt suddenly looking almost comically out of place after the afternoon they had just witnessed. Despite the defeat, she still managed a warm smile.

"It was really nice to meet you," Lexi said. "Make sure you congratulate Lukas for me. On the win and the hat-trick."

Joanna smiled back.

"I will."

For a brief moment, her eyes moved from Lexi to Jane.

Jane was already looking at Javi.

There was no conversation this time, no attempt to explain anything in the middle of a crowd slowly moving toward the exits. Jane simply held his gaze for a second, then looked toward Joanna. Joanna, still unsure what exactly she was standing in the middle of, gave her a polite smile and a small wave.

Jane returned it faintly.

Then Roger placed a hand lightly on Lexi’s back, and the three of them turned to leave.

Joanna watched them go.

More specifically, she watched Jane.

The woman moved with composure, handbag held close, Roger beside her, Lexi talking animatedly despite the result. But Joanna could not stop seeing the way Jane had smiled when the lineup came out, the way she had stood slowly after Lukas’ hat-trick, the way her eyes had followed him during the celebrations with something too heavy to be simple admiration.

She and Javi continued down the steps toward the concourse.

For several seconds, Joanna said nothing.

Javi did not look at her, but he knew.

"I know you have many questions," he said quietly.

Joanna glanced at him.

He kept walking, eyes ahead.

"And I will answer them when the time is right."

Joanna lowered her gaze for a moment, then nodded.

"Okay."

The crowd moved around them in waves, supporters laughing, chanting, checking their phones, calling friends, already replaying the goals in exaggerated detail. Joanna walked beside Javi through all of it, but her mind stayed with Jane, Roger and Lexi.

Then another thought came to her.

She looked up.

"Can I tell Lukas about Lexi?"

Javi finally turned toward her.

"Lukas already knows about Lexi," he said. "He knows she exists. He knows Jane has a daughter. But he doesn’t know what she looks like, and he hasn’t met her."

Joanna absorbed that quietly.

"So... there is no problem if I tell him?"

"No problem," Javi replied. "You can tell him."

Joanna nodded again.

They continued walking toward the garage where the car was parked, the noise of the Etihad slowly fading behind them.

But the questions did not fade with it.

* * *

By the time Lukas returned to the apartment, Manchester had already softened into night.

It was somewhere between 10:00 and 11:00 PM, late enough that the roads outside had quietened but not late enough for the city to have forgotten what had happened. Every few minutes, as Aaron’s car moved through the streets, Lukas saw another sky-blue shirt outside a pub, another group still singing at a bus stop, another stranger lifting a phone toward the car window before realizing too late who might be inside. He sat in the back with the match ball tucked carefully in the bag beside him, the signatures of his teammates, Guardiola and the coaching staff covering the white panels in black marker.

He had stayed at the City Football Academy much longer than planned. There had been a small celebration after the match, nothing extravagant, nothing wild, but enough to release the pressure of the last few weeks. Staff who rarely came close to the dressing room had stopped him in the corridor to congratulate him. Academy boys had asked for pictures. Ferran Soriano, who had watched the game from the directors’ area, had found him afterward and spoken to him with the warm satisfaction of a chief executive who understood that a transfer had just paid for itself emotionally before it ever paid statistically. By the time Lukas finally left, his phone was almost dead, his legs were heavy, and his head still felt full of noise.

When he opened the apartment door, the first thing he heard was his own name.

The television was on in the living room, showing a late-night Sky Sports derby special. Javi sat on the sofa with one arm along the backrest, while Joanna was curled beside him with a blanket over her legs. On the screen, the replay of Lukas’ second goal was rolling again, the counterattack from his own box slowed down and analyzed from three different angles. The studio panel had been taking turns praising the performance, with Wayne Rooney speaking from the perspective of a former United player and a visibly enthusiastic pundit beside him talking about the shock of seeing a debut derby explode like that.

Rooney shook his head as the clip froze on Lukas lifting the ball over Bay?nd?r. "United were very poor, there’s no hiding from that. The defending, the midfield distances, the lack of aggression, all of it was nowhere near good enough for a Manchester derby. But even with that said, you still have to give the boy credit. He was absolutely unbelievable. Two of those goals are not gifts. They’re moments of real quality."

The other pundit leaned forward, almost laughing as the third goal appeared on screen. "That’s the thing. You can say United were bad, and they were, but this is special. The first goal is individual brilliance, the second is power and composure from almost his own box, and the third is pure technique. He doesn’t just score a hat-trick. He dominates the emotional story of the derby."

Joanna heard the door and turned.

The moment she saw him, she pushed the blanket aside and stood up.

"Took you long enough to come back."

Lukas smiled tiredly as she crossed the room and wrapped her arms around him. He dropped the bag carefully before hugging her back, resting his chin briefly against her shoulder.

"I know. Sorry. We stayed at the campus for a while."

Javi muted the television but kept the picture running.

"A while?" he asked with a faint smile. "It has been hours."