Chapter 43: Connection

Rahmat sat alone in his office, sipping tea while reviewing the match highlights. A sudden notification on his phone startled him. It was his grandmother, Mathilda van Rijn, calling from her cozy home in Makassar. Her timing was perfect, as if she always knew when he needed a familiar voice.

"Rahmat, my dear!" Mathilda's warm, melodic tone filled the room.

"Grandma, it's so good to hear from you," Rahmat replied, leaning back in his chair with a smile.

"I've been watching your matches, you know. The whole neighborhood here is talking about my grandson, the Premier League manager!" she said, her pride evident. "But you've been so busy with your football, I'm afraid you might be forgetting something important."

Rahmat chuckled. "And what might that be, Grandma?"

"Life outside football!" Mathilda teased. "You're 30 now, Rahmat. It's time to think about settling down, don't you think?"

Rahmat groaned playfully. "Grandma, not this again. My team keeps me more than occupied."

"Well, I happen to know a lovely young woman who's currently studying in Luton. Her name is Sophie, the granddaughter of my dear friend from Rotterdam. She's 25, beautiful, smart, and, most importantly, she's single."

Rahmat laughed nervously. "Grandma, I don't have time for this."

"Nonsense!" Mathilda continued, her tone light but insistent. "She's studying architecture at the university there and speaks fondly of football. I told her about you, and she seemed quite intrigued. I've already given her your number, so don't be surprised if she reaches out."

Rahmat sighed but couldn't help smiling. "You're impossible, Grandma."

"You'll thank me later," Mathilda said with a chuckle. "Now, promise me you'll at least meet her for coffee. Consider it a favor to your old grandmother."

"Alright, alright," Rahmat relented. "I promise to meet her. But only because you asked."

"Good boy. Now, go get some rest. Your team isn't the only thing that needs managing, you know."

After ending the call, Rahmat shook his head, amused by his grandmother's persistence. Little did he know, this meeting could mark the beginning of something unexpected, both on and off the pitch.

---

Rahmat walked into the cozy café near Luton University, the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee filling the air. He glanced around nervously, wondering if agreeing to this meeting had been the right decision. His grandmother, Mathilda, had been so insistent, her Dutch-accented voice carrying its usual playful authority over the phone. Meeting Sophie Cornelia—a complete stranger—felt more daunting than any tactical decision he'd faced on the pitch.

Near the corner window, he spotted her. A young woman with soft, shoulder-length blonde hair and striking blue eyes sat reading a book. She exuded an effortless charm in her casual sweater and scarf. Rahmat hesitated briefly, then approached.

"Excuse me, are you Sophie?" he asked, his voice steady but polite.

She looked up, her blue eyes meeting his with curious warmth. "Ja, und you must be Rahmat," she replied, her Dutch accent giving her words a distinct lilt. Her tone was friendly yet reserved. "Your grandmother told me you might come."

Rahmat chuckled, taking a seat opposite her. "She didn't really give me much of a choice."

Sophie smiled, amusement dancing in her expression. "Ah, Oma Mathilda. She is... how do you say... quite convincing, ja? She talks about you a lot. I feel I already know you a little."

Rahmat grinned. "She has that effect on people. So, what did she tell you?"

Sophie tilted her head playfully, as if considering her answer. "She said you are always busy, always on the football pitch, and that you need someone to remind you there is more to life than... tactics and training."

Rahmat laughed. "That does sound like her. What about you? My grandmother didn't say much—just that you're studying architecture."

Sophie's eyes lit up. "Ja, architecture is my passion. I came to Luton for a specific program on sustainable design. It's challenging, but I love it. And football... it seems to be the heartbeat of this town, ja?" She added the last part with a teasing smile.

"It is," Rahmat said, his pride evident. "At Luton Town, football is everything."

Their conversation flowed naturally, covering everything from Sophie's innovative design projects to Rahmat's intense life managing a Premier League team. Rahmat found her passion for architecture infectious, while Sophie seemed genuinely fascinated by his tales of balancing egos and strategies.

"So," Sophie said after a pause, her eyes sparkling with mischief, "is your team as unpredictable as my design projects?"

Rahmat laughed. "Unpredictable? That's a generous description. Managing them is like solving a new puzzle every week."

Sophie leaned forward slightly, her tone thoughtful. "You must be very patient. Patience is not always easy, but it is... essential, ja?"

Rahmat nodded, appreciating her insight. She had a calm, grounded presence that felt refreshing amidst his high-pressure world. "You're probably right. But I think architecture might require even more patience than football."

Sophie leaned back, her smile soft but knowing. "Perhaps. But both need creativity. To see solutions where others only see problems."

As the sun dipped lower, casting a warm glow through the café windows, Rahmat realized how much he was enjoying their time together. For the first time in months, he wasn't thinking about formations or league standings. Instead, he was captivated by Sophie's sharp insights and her gentle humor.

When it was time to leave, Sophie extended her hand with a warm smile. "Thank you for meeting me, Rahmat. It was... how do you say... refreshing?"

Rahmat shook her hand, a genuine smile on his face. "The pleasure was mine. Maybe we can do this again sometime?"

Sophie raised an eyebrow, her expression teasing. "Only if you promise to explain more about football. It's still a bit of a mystery to me."

Rahmat laughed. "Deal."

As they parted ways, Rahmat couldn't shake the feeling that his grandmother had been onto something. Sophie Cornelia wasn't just another introduction—she was a breath of fresh air in his whirlwind of a life.