I Coach Football With A System
Chapter 93: Giving Toni A Call

Chapter 93: Giving Toni A Call

The clock on the wall ticked past midnight, then half past, then crawled toward one a.m. It felt like the hospital itself was holding its breath, waiting for something to shift, but nothing did. The same fluorescent light flickered above them every so often, buzzing softly in the stillness. A cleaning staff member passed once with a squeaky cart, humming some song under her breath before disappearing down the corridor again.

Isabella had yawned twice in five minutes, trying to disguise it each time with a sip of her awful vending machine coffee. She did that thing where she scrunched up her nose and pretended it was the taste that made her eyes water, but Alex noticed, of course.

They had yet to speak, ignoring the oversized elephant in the room, letting silence settle and reshape itself again and again. Every so often, Isabella’s foot would tap the floor lightly, restless, before she’d catch herself and stop. Alex would look over, about to say something, then decide against it, leaning back in the hard plastic chair, his elbows on his knees, staring down at the cup in his hands.

They stayed like that until the silence became unbearable.

"Alright," Alex said, finally standing up and dusting off his coat, brushing off a few invisible crumbs from the sleeve, "come on. Time to get you home."

"What? No, I’m fine-"

"You look like you lost a fight with a couch cushion. Come on."

She narrowed her eyes, her lips pressing into a thin line, but she didn’t resist when he offered his hand. Her fingers were cold, but she gripped his hand firmly as he pulled her up.

"Bossy," she muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes as she took one last sip of the bitter coffee.

"Managerial instinct," he shot back, a small grin pulling at his lips.

They walked down the quiet hallway together, passing darkened rooms and closed doors, the only sound their shoes squeaking softly against the linoleum floor. A nurse at the front desk lifted her head and gave them a small nod, which Alex returned before pushing open the heavy front doors of the hospital.

Outside, the air was cold, biting in a way that made them both pause. The streetlights cast long shadows, pools of yellow light stretching across the pavement, catching on small puddles left behind from the earlier rain. The fireworks of earlier had dissolved into nothing, leaving behind the faint scent of burnt gunpowder in the crisp air. The city was calm, the kind of quiet that only came in the hours after midnight, when the world was too tired to move.

Alex unlocked his car, the beep loud in the silence, and opened the passenger door for Isabella. She hesitated for a moment, glancing up at the dark sky, then slid into the seat without another word.

They drove through the near-empty streets of Lecce, the headlights cutting through the darkness, reflecting off the wet roads. The rhythmic sound of the windshield wipers, even though there was no rain, somehow felt comforting. The radio was off, the only sounds the soft hum of the engine and the occasional distant bark of a dog.

Inside the car, the air was thick with unspoken moments, shared breaths, half-smiles that didn’t fully reach their eyes, the weight of everything that had happened hanging between them like a fog.

"You sure you don’t want me to come up, at least ring the doorbell?" Alex asked, glancing at Isabella, whose face was half-lit by the glow of the streetlights passing by. She shook her head, but her expression was tight, like she was trying not to say something, her hands twisting slightly in her lap.

"I’ll be fine," she said, voice soft but with that familiar firmness he had come to recognize. "Thank you for tonight, Alex."

He didn’t reply, only nodded, his eyes fixed on the road ahead as he pulled up outside her modest apartment block. The building was quiet, only a few lights on in the windows, casting warm rectangles onto the wet pavement.

She turned in her seat, looking back at him, her hair falling across her face as she shifted. "Alex..." she began, then exhaled, her shoulders dropping. "Just... thank you."

He leaned forward, unbuckling his seatbelt, and opened the door, stepping out into the cold. She followed, the door closing softly behind her. For a moment, they stood there, the night air swirling around them, before he pulled her into a hug, a friendly, warm embrace, but neither of them pulled away immediately.

When they finally did, she looked up at him, her eyes reflecting the streetlight, before she turned and walked toward the entrance. Alex stood there, hands in his pockets, watching her until she disappeared inside, the door closing softly behind her.

He stood there for another moment, taking a deep breath, letting the cold air clear his mind before he walked back to the car and slid into the driver’s seat. The engine rumbled to life, the dashboard lights flickering softly, casting a pale glow across his face.

As he drove back to his apartment, the streets of Lecce passed by in a blur of wet reflections and empty sidewalks, the occasional flicker of a neon sign breaking the monotony. His mind replayed the night in fragments, the soft kiss at midnight, the fireworks reflecting in Isabella’s eyes, the raw gratitude in her voice, the exhaustion in her posture.

When he finally pulled into the small parking lot of his building, he sat in the car for a moment, engine idling, hands resting on the steering wheel. The weight of the day pressed against him, exhaustion settling in waves, but there was a quietness inside him now, a kind of settled peace he hadn’t felt in a while.

He slipped off his coat, casting it onto a stool by the door, then peeled off his shirt and trainers, each movement slow, deliberate. His trousers, still damp from the hospital lounge, went straight into the laundry basket. The bathroom tiles were cold under his feet as he stepped into the shower, the hot water cascading down, washing away the chill of the winter night and the lingering tension in his muscles.

The steam curled around him, fogging up the mirror as he closed his eyes, letting the water drum against his back, steady and grounding. When he stepped out, the air felt colder, but it was clean, sharp, waking him up as he wrapped a towel around his waist.

He brushed his teeth, the taste of mint sharp on his tongue, and flossed with mechanical focus, inspecting his reflection in the foggy mirror. A manager. A man who navigated tactics, training schedules, media scrums, but also moments like this, midnight conversations, hospital corridors, quiet promises.

He changed into fresh clothes, navy joggers and a dark blue hoodie, and sat on the edge of his bed, phone in hand, scrolling through a few training notes before setting it down. He lay back, the ceiling above him quiet, the glow of the streetlights sneaking in through the blinds, painting thin lines across the room.

The phone vibrated, buzzing against the wooden nightstand, jangling him out of his drifting thoughts. He picked it up automatically, the screen lighting up with a familiar name.

Franc. Francesco Acerbi, from Inter Milan

A broad smile cracked across his face, unguarded, warm, as he answered. "Franc! What’s up, man?"

"Hey! I’m in Lecce. With the wife. Thought I’d see if you’re free for a drink."

Alex propped himself up on one elbow, grin widening. "What? Now? Tonight?"

"Tonight. Just a drink. Like old times."

He hesitated, glancing at the clock on the wall. It was late, and he had training prep to do tomorrow, notes to finalize, sleep to catch. But something in Franc’s voice, the easy camaraderie, pulled him back to a different time, late nights in Milan, the laughter, the exhaustion after matches, the simplicity of just being young and in the moment.

"Let me think... yeah, absolutely. Where are you guys?"

"We’re staying near the promenade, by the old theatre. Thought maybe Porta Napoli bar, if you’re around?"

Alex nodded, though Franc couldn’t see it. "Give me twenty minutes."

"Perfect."

When the call ended, Alex lay back for a moment, the phone resting on his chest. His mind pulled back, flashes of United training, dodging Rooney’s reckless tackles, laughing with Toni in Madrid after impossible drills, the late-night pizza runs with Franc in Milan. Those friendships had shaped him as much as any trophy or press conference.

A notification popped up, Lecce’s group chat, filled with blurry selfies and fireworks, off-key singing captured in grainy videos, players celebrating wherever they were in the city. He tapped through them, shaking his head with a small laugh.

Hungry. Young. Alive. That was his team.

He sat up, reaching for his training-day planner out of habit, flipping it open to tomorrow’s notes, but paused. His thumb hovered over the page before closing it.

Maybe I should give Toni a call.

He said it out loud, testing how it felt, the words sounding both strange and comforting in the quiet of the room. A call to Toni, after everything, why not? Finals shared, victories, heartbreaks, quiet conversations on the training ground, everything that came with those years.

A warm, self-effacing grin tugged at his lips. The night felt full, with possibility, with connection, with hope he hadn’t let himself feel in a long time.

He tapped his phone.

To Toni: Hey man. Long time. You free for a quick chat?

He hit send, setting the phone down, the glow of the screen casting a soft light in the dim room. He sat there, waiting, letting the moment fill the space around him, breathing in, breathing out.

Moments later, the phone buzzed again, a thumbs-up emoji in reply.

Alex’s smile returned, soft and genuine. He leaned back against the headboard, letting his eyes close for a moment.

Tonight wasn’t over. It was becoming quieter, simpler, rooted in friendship, in the small moments that reminded him who he was beyond the game, beyond the tactics, beyond the constant hum of expectation.

As sleep pulled at him, a quiet certainty settled in his chest.

Tomorrow would come with its own challenges, press conferences, training sessions, rumors, the chaos of football life. The game would demand everything from him.

But right now, he wasn’t alone. He never had been.

The phone buzzed again, another message, another call waiting, but he let it ring.

Alex relived the night in fragments once again... the soft kiss, the fireworks, Isabella’s gratitude, the call from Franc, the idea of reconnecting with Toni.

And he drifted into sleep with that promise, that connection, that certainty, that no matter how heavy the next day would be, he would face it.

Maybe he should give Toni a call... yeah.

That was enough to seal the promise.

A/N: My apologies for the late Chapter. And once again we smashed the golden tickets quota (what? already?!). The bonus Chapter will come with the next update.