The early morning sun pierced through the linen curtains of the Oliveira household, casting golden streaks across the nursery floor. Tobi stood quietly by the large window, gently rocking a sleepy Liam in his arms, the infant's soft breath warming the crook of his neck. The other three were still asleep, for now. A rare miracle.
He looked down at Liam, his son's eyes fluttering closed again, and smiled with the calm of a man who had tasted the chaos of life and found serenity in its stillness. Football had given him many things — trophies, fame, legacy. But nothing compared to the grounding joy of fatherhood. Or the way Emilia's sleepy smile greeted him from their bed every morning, messy hair and all.
"Morning, champ," Emilia's voice croaked from behind, pulling the duvet tighter around her. "Is that Liam or Thiago you've got hostage this time?"
Tobi chuckled softly. "Liam. Thiago's probably dreaming about kicking a ball already."
