As the plane landed in Madrid, Izan's heart beat a little faster. He tapped his fingers lightly on his knee, not out of nervousness but from a growing excitement to see Olivia.
It had been weeks since they'd last spent time together, and though they kept in touch daily, nothing compared to being face-to-face.
He retrieved his black duffel bag from the overhead compartment, his movements efficient and deliberate.
Pulling his hoodie over his head and slipping on his sunglasses, Izan tried to blend into the bustling crowd of passengers.
He wasn't afraid of being recognized—he was used to that by now—but he didn't want any distractions. Today wasn't about football or fame; it was about Olivia.
Navigating the terminal, Izan walked with purpose, his long strides carrying him toward the arrivals area.