World football system

The morning sun streamed through the large windows of the Oliveira residence, casting golden rays over the living room where toys were scattered across the floor, remnants of another playful evening. The quiet hum of London traffic in the distance was barely noticeable over the soft music playing in the kitchen, where Emilia moved with practiced grace. Her baby bump had returned to its flat state, though the memories of labor and long nights remained etched into her every movement.

Tobi stood by the window, holding a cup of tea and watching the garden where Ava and Luna ran barefoot across the dewy grass. Liam and Thiago were seated at the little picnic table under the tree, engaged in a heated game of who-could-stack-more-blocks. His heart swelled at the sight. He had won Champions League titles, lifted the Premier League trophy twice, and even scored from midfield once—but nothing rivaled this: the laughter of his children, the warmth of his wife, the peace he finally found in his home.

"Boys! No throwing blocks," Emilia called from the kitchen, not needing to look to know exactly what was happening. Tobi chuckled.

He made his way over to the table, ruffling Thiago's hair and adjusting Liam's slightly lopsided stack.

"Daddy!" Ava shouted, sprinting across the grass with Luna close behind.

He braced himself as both girls slammed into his legs in a chaotic hug. "Careful, careful! What did I say about charging like you're playing for Arsenal?"

Luna chirped, eyes gleaming.

He scooped both girls into his arms and carried them toward the kitchen.

Despite the demands of fatherhood, Tobi had stayed in peak condition. Preseason training had begun earlier in the month, but Arteta had granted him extra time at home due to his outstanding performances and personal responsibilities. A few reporters had made snide remarks about favoritism, but the squad knew the truth. Tobi had earned everything with sweat, goals, and unmatched vision on the field.

At breakfast, Emilia placed plates of pancakes and fresh fruit in front of the kids. Tobi slid into his seat beside her, brushing her hand with his fingers as they exchanged a tired but contented look.

"How'd you sleep?" she asked.

"Like a rock for two hours, then I had Thiago's foot in my face. So, great."

She laughed softly. "Parenthood."

"Best kind of trophy."

They shared a moment of silence, the kind built from years of love, hardship, and silent victories. Later that day, Tobi would join Arsenal's second week of training. For now, he was here, surrounded by his world.

And that was more than enough.

The morning sun streamed through the large windows of the Oliveira residence, casting golden rays over the living room where toys were scattered across the floor, remnants of another playful evening. The quiet hum of London traffic in the distance was barely noticeable over the soft music playing in the kitchen, where Emilia moved with practiced grace. Her baby bump had returned to its flat state, though the memories of labor and long nights remained etched into her every movement.

Tobi stood by the window, holding a cup of tea and watching the garden where Ava and Luna ran barefoot across the dewy grass. Liam and Thiago were seated at the little picnic table under the tree, engaged in a heated game of who-could-stack-more-blocks. His heart swelled at the sight. He had won Champions League titles, lifted the Premier League trophy twice, and even scored from midfield once—but nothing rivaled this: the laughter of his children, the warmth of his wife, the peace he finally found in his home.

"Boys! No throwing blocks," Emilia called from the kitchen, not needing to look to know exactly what was happening. Tobi chuckled.

He made his way over to the table, ruffling Thiago's hair and adjusting Liam's slightly lopsided stack.

"Daddy!" Ava shouted, sprinting across the grass with Luna close behind.

He braced himself as both girls slammed into his legs in a chaotic hug. "Careful, careful! What did I say about charging like you're playing for Arsenal?"

Luna chirped, eyes gleaming.

He scooped both girls into his arms and carried them toward the kitchen.

Despite the demands of fatherhood, Tobi had stayed in peak condition. Preseason training had begun earlier in the month, but Arteta had granted him extra time at home due to his outstanding performances and personal responsibilities. A few reporters had made snide remarks about favoritism, but the squad knew the truth. Tobi had earned everything with sweat, goals, and unmatched vision on the field.

At breakfast, Emilia placed plates of pancakes and fresh fruit in front of the kids. Tobi slid into his seat beside her, brushing her hand with his fingers as they exchanged a tired but contented look.

"How'd you sleep?" she asked.

"Like a rock for two hours, then I had Thiago's foot in my face. So, great."

She laughed softly. "Parenthood."

"Best kind of trophy."

They shared a moment of silence, the kind built from years of love, hardship, and silent victories. Later that day, Tobi would join Arsenal's second week of training. For now, he was here, surrounded by his world.

And that was more than enough.

The morning sunlight spilled into the master bedroom, casting a soft golden hue over the bed where Emilia lay nestled beside Tobi. Her breathing was calm, the faintest smile tugging at her lips, and her hand rested over Tobi's chest. He was already awake — had been for a while — just lying still, listening to the quiet symphony of his life. Somewhere down the hall, faint laughter erupted. The twins were up again.

Tobi carefully slipped out of bed, kissed Emilia's forehead, and tiptoed down the corridor. As he passed each of the four small bedrooms they had prepared in their new North London home, his heart brimmed with warmth. The door to Liam and Thiago's room was cracked open — a telltale sign they'd been plotting something.

He nudged it fully open. "Alright, you two troublemakers," he said with a grin, "What's the mission this time?"

Thiago spun around dramatically in his Spider-Man costume, while Liam had one of Tobi's old Arsenal training jerseys on, the number 10 dragging past his knees.

"Daddy!" they both screamed, charging toward him like rockets. Tobi caught them midair, one in each arm, laughing as he stumbled back under their tiny weight.

"Mum is still sleeping," he whispered playfully. "Let's go make breakfast for everyone."

In the kitchen, Ava and Luna were already seated on their little stools, wearing matching unicorn pajamas, Emilia's handiwork. Ava, ever the serious one, had a spoon in one hand and a notepad in the other. "We're planning breakfast. We need juice, eggs, toast, and... pancakes," she announced with a dramatic pause.

Luna clapped in agreement.

Tobi chuckled. "Chef Daddy reporting for duty."

As the batter sizzled on the pan and the smell of melting chocolate filled the house, Tobi couldn't help but reflect. A year ago, he was hoisting the Champions League trophy under the Parisian sky. Now, he was flipping pancakes for a group of tiny tyrants — and he wouldn't trade it for the world.

---

Later that afternoon, after Emilia woke and the family had a garden picnic, Tobi sat on the swing set outside. He had Thiago in his lap, Liam chasing a butterfly nearby, and the girls were painting rocks with Emilia under the sunshade.

His phone buzzed beside him. It was a message from Mikel Arteta.

> "Hope you're enjoying your time off, champ. Just a reminder — preseason starts in three weeks. We'll need our leader sharp."

Tobi smirked, replying quickly.

> "Wouldn't miss it. Just recharging with the best team I've ever led."

He looked at his kids again. Their joy was infectious.

"Daddy," Ava called, skipping over, her curls bouncing.

Tobi bent down to meet her eyes. "For as long as I can. But one day, maybe one of you will wear the jersey instead."

Luna joined her, placing a rock into his hand. On it, in toddler-scrawl paint, was a red heart and the number 10.

Tobi swallowed thickly, emotion rising in his chest. Legacy wasn't just about trophies or goals. It was about moments like this — mornings of giggles, pancake batter, painted hearts, and questions that made his soul swell.

---

As night settled and the children drifted to sleep, Tobi and Emilia sat on the back porch, wrapped in a blanket, watching the stars.

"They love you so much," Emilia whispered, resting her head on his shoulder.

"I love them more than I thought possible," he said softly. "I thought winning the Champions League was the peak. But this… being a dad, being with you… this is my real trophy."

Emilia looked up and kissed him gently. "Then let's keep winning."

He held her hand tighter, gazing at the night sky, stars stretching endlessly above. There was still football ahead. Still matches to be won, boots to lace, fans to silence. But for tonight, he was just Tobi — husband, father, man — deeply content in the calm before the next storm.

And in the quiet of that moment, Tobi Oliveira knew: his greatest legacy was just beginning.