World football system

The evening sun bled softly through the sheer curtains of the Oliveira family's North London home, casting a golden hue over the spacious living room. It was quiet—but not empty. This kind of quiet was sacred. It was the lullaby of new life, the slow heartbeat of a household wrapped in love, exhaustion, and wonder.

Tobi sat on the soft beige rug in front of the long grey sectional, cradling Thiago, who had just finished his bottle and was now dozing against his father's shoulder. His tiny breaths were warm against Tobi's neck. Occasionally, his little hand would twitch as if trying to hold onto a dream.

On the other side of the room, Ava and Luna lay side by side on their play mat, wrapped in soft pink and lavender swaddles. Liam was nestled in a bassinet just within arm's reach of the couch, a gentle hum of white noise playing to keep him calm.

Tobi's eyes moved across the room like a coach scanning the pitch—calculating, caring, completely engaged. Except this time, the stakes weren't goals or trophies. This time, it was lullabies and late-night bottles. Diapers and warmth. Protecting their world.

From the open-plan kitchen, Emilia was finishing up dinner, her movements slower than before. She was healing—still sore, still learning how to sleep in broken hours—but there was a grace to the way she carried herself. Motherhood had changed her. Tobi could see it in her eyes: fierce, patient, burning with something deeper than even the fire she used to show on camera or in conversation.

She came over with two plates of salmon, rice, and steamed broccoli, placing one on the coffee table. Then she lowered herself gently next to him, careful not to wake Thiago.

"How's our sleepy warrior?" she whispered, brushing a kiss across her son's head.

"Out like Arsenal's title hopes in January," Tobi joked with a quiet laugh, earning a tired but amused eye-roll from her.

"I married a clown," she murmured.

"No, you married a Champions League winner who now makes the best formula mixes on the team."

They both laughed softly, careful not to stir the babies.

Tobi leaned against the couch, gently transferring Thiago into the bassinet beside Liam. The boys stirred only slightly before settling back into slumber. He kissed their tiny foreheads, heart full.

Later that night, the house was dim and warm. Tobi stood by the window in the nursery, rocking Luna in his arms. She was the fussiest of the bunch—already full of attitude. She had Emilia's eyes and Tobi's stubbornness.

He whispered softly to her as she finally settled, her tiny body relaxing against his chest.

"You know, Luna girl, Daddy used to think nothing could ever top lifting a Champions League trophy. But I was wrong. This… you, your brothers, your sister… this is everything."

The door creaked gently and Emilia walked in, wearing Tobi's oversized training shirt. Her hair was tied up messily, dark circles under her eyes, but she still looked beautiful to him.

"Everything okay?" she asked.

"Yeah. Luna just wanted to hear me talk about myself," he smirked.

Emilia chuckled and came closer, wrapping her arms around his waist, resting her cheek against his shoulder. They stood like that for a long time, watching the city lights blink through the window.

Tobi thought about football. About the preseason coming soon. About how this would be his second Champions League final with Arsenal, after beating Real Madrid in the semis. But none of that compared to this moment.

"I'll take the night shift tonight," he whispered. "You sleep, Em. Please."

"You sure?" she asked, eyes already closing.

"I got this. I'm used to 120 minutes and extra time, remember?"

She smiled sleepily. "Yeah, but this time there's no substitution."

He kissed her forehead. "Exactly. Which means I'll see it through till morning."

That night, Tobi paced the hallway with one baby or another in his arms almost every hour. He hummed, sang, whispered tactical breakdowns from the Madrid semifinal, and made funny faces. By dawn, he was running on adrenaline and love.

And as the first sunlight poured into the nursery, illuminating the four bassinets, Tobi Oliveira stood among his children with pride swelling in his chest.

He had won titles.

He had faced giants.

He had conquered the world stage.

But this—fatherhood, family, love—was his greatest legacy.

And the season of home had only just begun.

Tobi adapting to life as a father of quadruplets (Ava, Luna, Liam, Thiago)

Tender and realistic family moments with Emilia

Managing rest, home life, and the gradual return to training with Arsenal

The start of preseason medicals and early sessions

Emotional reflections, balance of fame and fatherhood

The morning sun peeked through the linen curtains, streaking golden lines across the hardwood floor. Tobi blinked slowly, his body exhausted but alert — not from a brutal Champions League final or grueling training, but from being woken up every three hours by one or more of his newborns.

He glanced over at Emilia. Her soft brown hair was slightly frizzy, and dark rings clung stubbornly beneath her eyes, but even in that tired state, she glowed. Her arms cradled Ava, whose tiny fingers gripped Emilia's tank top like they were holding on to the universe. On the bedside bassinet, Luna stirred, a faint whimper building in her throat. On the baby camera, Liam had begun squirming restlessly, and Thiago, the loudest of the four, was—well—already letting everyone know it was time for milk.

Tobi exhaled a quiet laugh. "Morning chaos begins," he whispered.

He reached down and scooped up Luna before her soft cries could build into a full chorus, gently rocking her with practiced arms. "Hey, hey, shhh, sweetheart," he cooed. "Daddy's got you."

Downstairs, the faint sound of the washing machine thudded in rhythmic intervals. Bottles lined the drying rack, freshly sterilized. The once sleek and modern kitchen had transformed into a battlefield of bibs, formula containers, pacifiers, and warming bottles.

In a house that had once been organized by his football schedule, everything now revolved around feeding times, nap rotations, and diaper inventory. But it wasn't frustrating. If anything, it felt… grounding.

"Tobi," Emilia groaned, rubbing her eyes. "Is it seven already?"

"Yeah," he replied, balancing Luna on his shoulder as she yawned. "I think we made it through the night without a meltdown."

"Speak for yourself," she chuckled. "Thiago was like a broken alarm clock with volume stuck at ten."

He leaned over and kissed her forehead. "You're doing amazing. I swear, you're like a goddess in survival mode."

She smirked. "Don't start flattering me this early. Pass me Ava's bottle."

While Emilia fed Ava and soothed her with lullabies in Portuguese, Tobi took Luna downstairs. Liam had now fully woken up, his tiny fists punching the air like a mini-boxer. Tobi chuckled and picked him up with a dramatic sigh.

"I thought Madrid was tough," he whispered. "You're something else, champ."

---

Midday

By noon, the house had quieted again. Three of the babies were finally asleep — Liam being the last to give in. Tobi sat on the couch with Luna lying on his chest, snoring lightly, her little breaths tickling his neck. Emilia came and sat beside him, snuggling into his side.

"Three weeks until preseason starts," she murmured.

"I know," he replied. "Feels weird not hearing my alarm at five."

She raised an eyebrow. "Your new alarms cry and pee."

He laughed. "And they're all captain material."

There was a comfortable silence. Outside, a warm breeze rustled the trees in the backyard. The baby monitor buzzed occasionally, showing Ava twitching in her sleep.

Tobi ran his fingers through his hair. "I've been thinking... Maybe after preseason, we bring your mom over to help out. Just until the season kicks in properly."

Emilia nodded. "She'd love that. And it'll give you peace of mind during away games."

"You and the kids are my peace of mind," he whispered.

She blinked at him, eyes glassy. "I love you."

"I love you more."

---

Training Ground – Emirates Stadium Complex (Two Weeks Later)

It had been a slow build-up. Arsenal's medical team had sent each player a personalized regimen to follow at home. Tobi followed his religiously — in between feeding and burping and rocking babies. Now, with preseason officially starting, he stood at the entrance to the training grounds, a duffel over his shoulder.

The familiar smell of fresh-cut grass, polish in the locker rooms, and faint chemical scent of recovery gel filled the air. This was home, too — a different one, but still deeply part of him.

Arteta greeted him with a pat on the back. "Congratulations again, Papa Oliveira."

Tobi grinned. "Thanks, boss. Four kids… feels like I won another trophy."

The other players whistled and teased him. Martin Ødegaard gave him a mock salute. "You survived? With four? Mad respect."

Tobi shrugged playfully. "Let's see how well I survive preseason after two weeks of sleeping three hours a night."

Everyone laughed, but behind it all, there was admiration. Tobi had returned more composed, sharper. As the squad warmed up, his touches on the ball were fluid, clean. His vision hadn't dulled; if anything, it was crisper.

During scrimmage, he slid in a perfectly timed through-ball to Saka, earning a high-five. After the session, he stayed back to do extra stretches — his motivation amplified by the tiny faces waiting for him at home.

---

Evening

Returning home, he dropped his keys on the console and tiptoed inside. Emilia lay on the couch, all four babies lying on her chest and stomach like puzzle pieces. They were out cold, arms flopped in different directions.

He stood there, just… watching. The tiredness from training, the ache in his legs — all of it melted away. This was his everything.

He snapped a quiet photo on his phone and whispered to himself, "For the days when football ends… this will still be here."

He gently scooped up Liam and Luna, placed them in their crib, and returned for Ava and Thiago. Emilia blinked awake and smiled.

"You're home."

"Always."