Victor Kane stood in the hallway of his childhood home, staring at the birthday balloons taped haphazardly to the wall. They were bright pink, mismatched, and slightly deflated in places, but they screamed his sister's personality—cheerful, carefree, and utterly impossible to predict.
From the kitchen, he heard the clatter of plates and his mother's voice rising above the noise. "Victor, don't just stand there! Help set the table! It's your sister's birthday, not your day off!"
Victor smirked, rolling his eyes as he stepped into the kitchen. "Mom, I've been home for two hours. I'm pretty sure I've done more chores than anyone else here."
His mother didn't miss a beat, pointing a wooden spoon at him. "And you'll do more! Now, grab those napkins."
Victor chuckled, shaking his head as he obeyed. There was something oddly comforting about being ordered around—it grounded him, pulling him out of the chaos of football management and back into the familiar chaos of family life.
In the living room, Victor's younger sister, Ruby, was arranging the cake table with all the precision of someone preparing for an Olympic event. She was the birthday girl, of course, but that didn't stop her from taking control of every detail.
"Victor!" Ruby called without looking up. "Does this look right? Should I move the cupcakes closer to the cake, or does it look weird?"
Victor leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "It looks great. You're overthinking."
Ruby sighed dramatically. "You always say that. It's my party—I can overthink if I want."
Victor grinned, stepping forward to ruffle her hair. "Alright, party boss. Just don't stress yourself out."
Ruby swatted his hand away, laughing. "Says the guy who stresses about everything!"
Victor barely had time to sit down before Clara Kane swept into the room, her phone in hand and her voice carrying her usual teasing energy.
"Well, well, look who finally decided to show up," Clara said, dropping onto the couch next to him. "I half expected you to send a cardboard cutout and call it a day."
Victor gave her a dry look. "Nice to see you too, Clara."
She ignored him, scrolling through her phone. "So, football boy, tell me—how's the chairwoman? Young, ambitious, gorgeous, running your club… Sounds like trouble."
Victor groaned. "Clara."
"What?" she asked innocently. "I'm just saying. You could do worse."
Victor pinched the bridge of his nose. "We work together. That's it."
"Sure, sure," Clara replied with a grin that screamed she didn't believe him. "Anyway, maybe I'll swing by Burton sometime. Check out the buzz."
Victor raised an eyebrow. "And by 'buzz,' you mean 'chairwoman,' don't you?"
Clara smirked. "Guilty."
Ruby's birthday dinner was equal parts chaotic and heartwarming. The table was filled with mismatched plates, overflowing bowls of food, and laughter so loud Victor was sure the neighbors could hear. His mother kept insisting everyone eat more, Ruby giggled as she unwrapped presents, and Clara continued to needle Victor about his career.
"So," Clara said between bites, "when do we get to see you on TV? You know, those dramatic halftime interviews where the manager looks like he hasn't slept in weeks."
Victor rolled his eyes. "I'm a League One manager, Clara. We don't get TV interviews."
Ruby perked up. "But if you get promoted, you will, right?"
Victor paused, realizing his younger sister had been paying closer attention to his career than he thought. He smiled. "Yeah, Ruby. If we get promoted, you'll see me on TV."
She beamed. "Cool! Just don't mess up, okay?"
Victor laughed. "No pressure."
Later that evening, Victor stepped outside for some air, leaning against the porch railing as he stared at the quiet street. His phone buzzed in his pocket—a message from Burton Albion's marketing director reminding him about preseason promotions. Victor sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Even now, away from the club, football was never far from his mind.
He opened the Snake Tactics System, scrolling through recent data from training sessions. The early projections were promising, but there were still areas to refine. Victor made a mental note to focus on improving defensive transitions when he returned to Burton.
The door creaked behind him as his mother stepped outside, holding a cup of tea. "You've always been like this," she said softly, handing him the cup. "Even as a kid, you were always thinking about what's next."
Victor chuckled. "Football doesn't leave much room for breaks."
She smiled. "Just don't forget to take them anyway. Life's not all tactics and spreadsheets, you know."
Victor nodded, sipping the tea. For the first time in a long time, he felt… peaceful. Maybe his mother was right. Maybe he needed to stay in touch more often.