Chapter 3 Reconnection

Rain tapped softly against the windows of Forno & Fire while Ariana tied her apron behind the counter.

The dinner rush had already started. Phones rang nonstop while receipts spat endlessly from the printer beside the kitchen.

Before another driver could grab the next order, Ariana quickly snatched the slip first.

Apartment 214.

Her manager narrowed his eyes immediately.

“You always take that delivery.”

Ariana avoided looking at him while packing the pizza into the insulated bag.

“It’s nearby.”

“That place is twenty minutes away.”

“…Nearby enough.”

“You got a secret boyfriend or something?”

Ariana nearly dropped the pizza.

“No!”

Her manager laughed loudly while the cooks snickered in the background.

“Then why are you so desperate to take that order?”

Ariana grabbed the bag quickly and headed for the door.

“Because the other drivers are slow.”

“Get back in thirty minutes!”

The cold evening air hit her face as she climbed onto her scooter.

For some reason, her chest felt nervous again.

It was ridiculous.

She’d spent years watching Thomas Osborne through screens, highlights, interviews, and old match recordings.

Now she was delivering him pizza twice in one week.

Even thinking about it still felt unreal.

Thomas opened the door more slowly this time.

His hair was still messy, but he looked less exhausted than before.

Ariana awkwardly held out the pizza.

“Uh… sorry about last time.”

Thomas frowned slightly. “…What?”

“I got excited,” she admitted quickly. “I didn’t mean to make things awkward.”

Thomas stayed silent.

Ariana rubbed the back of her neck nervously.

“I just never thought someone like you would be living this close to me.”

Someone like you.

Years ago, hearing words like that made him feel invincible.

Fans used to scream his name from stadium seats.

Kids wore his jersey.

Commentators called him football’s future.

Now hearing it only made his chest ache.

Thomas took the pizza quietly.

“…It’s fine.”

Ariana blinked.

That was probably the nicest response he’d given her so far.

“You really were my favorite player when you played,” she said.

Thomas almost shut the door again out of instinct.

Instead, he hesitated.

“…Why?”

Ariana looked genuinely confused by the question.

“Because you were amazing.”

The answer came so naturally that Thomas didn’t know how to respond.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then Ariana panicked slightly at the silence.

“ANYWAY— enjoy your pizza!”

She turned quickly and nearly tripped over herself rushing back down the hallway.

Thomas stared after her for a few seconds before quietly shutting the door.

For some reason, the apartment felt less empty tonight.

The deliveries continued after that.

At first, the conversations only lasted a minute or two.

Mostly Ariana talking.

Thomas listening.

But slowly, things changed.

“You know the league leaders are overperforming badly?” Ariana said one evening while handing him a pizza box. “Their defensive structure is awful.”

Thomas scoffed quietly. “You figured that out from highlights?”

“I watched six full matches.”

“…Why would you do that to yourself?”

“Research.”

“That sounds like torture.”

Ariana gasped dramatically. “Football analysis is art.”

Thomas shook his head, but before he realized it—

he laughed.

It was small.

Rusty.

But real.

Ariana froze mid-sentence.

“You can actually smile?”

Thomas immediately looked annoyed again.

“Don’t make it weird.”

Over the next few weeks, the conversations became normal.

Comfortable.

Ariana talked about football constantly: formations, transfers, coaches, players.

Thomas found himself responding more and more.

Correcting her tactical opinions.

Arguing with her over pressing systems.

Explaining movement patterns.

For the first time in years, football conversations didn’t fill him with anger.

One night, while leaning against the hallway wall outside his apartment, Ariana casually said:

“You know your ban ended months ago, right?”

Thomas stiffened immediately.

“…I know.”

“So why not come back?”

Thomas looked away.

“It’s not that simple.”

“You’re only twenty-one.”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“It absolutely matters,” Ariana argued. “Some players don’t even debut until twenty-one.”

Thomas said nothing.

Ariana crossed her arms.

“You can still do it.”

He hated how much he wanted to believe her.

Then suddenly—

the deliveries stopped.

The first night, Ariana barely noticed.

The second night, she checked the clock twice.

By the fourth night, the silence during her other deliveries felt strange again.

Too quiet.

Too boring.

She found herself looking towards the kitchen counter whenever orders came in.

None for apartment 214 .

Nothing.

Ariana told herself it didn’t matter.

But when another night passed in silence, she realized something uncomfortable.

What if he hated her and moved away?

Rain drizzled lightly outside as Ariana climbed the apartment stairs after finishing her shift.

She stood outside Apartment 214 for several seconds before finally knocking.

No answer.

Her stomach tightened slightly.

Maybe she’d annoyed him too much.

Maybe he got tired of her constantly bothering him.

Maybe—

Locks clicked from inside.

The door slowly opened.

Thomas blinked in surprise.

“…Ariana?”

She awkwardly looked away.

“You stopped ordering pizza.”

For a second, Thomas simply stared at her.

Then unexpectedly—

he laughed quietly.

A real laugh this time.

And for the first time since the scandal destroyed his life, the sound didn’t feel unfamiliar.

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