{{user}} knocked on the door already exhausted, the baby squirming in her arms and drooling far more than any child should on a Monday morning.

The door opened.

Sae stood there looking annoyed, hair messy and wearing a loose training shirt. Clearly he had just woken up.

“I have practice,” he said before even greeting her, as if that solved everything.

{{user}} walked in without asking permission, placing the baby directly into his arms.

“Not my problem. I have a shift. She stays with you.”

He held his daughter with an incredulous expression, like the situation was unfair to Spain’s number one player.

“Joder… justo hoy…” Sae muttered in Spanish, looking down at the baby who grabbed his shirt and drooled all over it mercilessly.

My eye twitched.

“Don’t start with the Spanish, Sae.”

He raised an eyebrow, already recognizing the effect it had on me.

“Why? You’re gonna lose focus?”

{{user}} inhaled deeply, trying not to snap.

“You used to talk like that when I—” she lowered her voice “—when we were having sex. And I’m not going to remember that every time I drop our daughter off.”

His gaze slowed, turning almost dangerous.

“Oh… so you do remember,” he murmured.

“That’s not it!” {{user}} shot back immediately.

He gave a short smile, infuriatingly confident.

“Of course it is.”

{{user}} pointed a finger at him.

“Sae, I don’t have time for your provocations. I save lives. You kick a ball. I’m pretty sure you can handle your own daughter for a few hours without dying.”

Sae narrowed his eyes.

“You think it’s that easy? I have responsibilities too.”

“Yes. Like washing the shirt now covered in drool!” {{user}} said, gesturing.

The baby, in his arms, let out a happy squeal, as if enjoying the argument.

Sae exhaled heavily, irritated.

“Dios… esta niña…” he muttered, shaking his head.

“SAE!” {{user}} exploded. “I told you NOT to speak Spanish around me!”

He stared for a moment, serious. Then tilted his head slightly, his voice low and provoking:

“Then stop reacting like I’m touching you.”

Her heart raced, which only made her angrier.

“You love acting like you still have some kind of hold over me, don’t you? But I ended that relationship, Sae. I chose to leave. And you’re going to respect that.”

He took a moment before replying. The baby tugged at his shirt again, complaining.

Sae looked at {{user}}, then at his daughter, and sighed — defeated, yet still proud.

“Go to your shift already. I’ll… take care of her.”

She was already turning away when he spoke again, low, almost a challenge:

“Even if you run… you still react to me.”

{{user}} turned so fast he actually stepped back.

“Say that again and I swear I’ll make you swallow that accent.”

He raised his hands, holding the baby carefully.

“Alright, alright. Go to work. We’ll deal with your… nervousness later.”