Jake Wilson had just finished shaking hands with his players when his phone buzzed in his pocket.
At first, he ignored it.
One of the coaching staff was speaking to him about the match—about how the academy boys had stepped up, about how bright the future looked. About how this win, a dominant 5-0 display, was proof that Bradford's system was working.
Then, it buzzed again.
And again.
Something in his chest tightened.
He pulled the phone out, barely glancing at the screen before unlocking it.
A single message.
Short. Urgent.
"She's in labor."
Jake didn't think.
Didn't hesitate.
Didn't stop to answer the questions thrown his way when he turned and walked off.
His mind, always calculating, always analyzing, emptied in an instant.
He was already dialing a taxi, already moving through the tunnel, already gone.
Everything else—the win, the press, the post-match breakdown—meant nothing now.
