3: Team handshake

The following Saturday, Vesna’s phone lit up against the cup holder as she waited for the traffic ahead to crawl through the junction. It read: A.C. Luka asked if he could speak to u when you pick us up. Don’t panic. Sen’s fine.

Vesna stared at the screen until the car behind her gave a short, impatient horn. She set the phone face-down and eased forwards, refusing to examine why Anaka’s reassurance had done so little to reassure her.

By the time she turned into the football-field car park, the handles of three overfilled grocery bags had carved hot grooves into her palms, a crate of bottled water had shifted sideways in the boot, and something round had escaped its netting to roll heavily from one side to the other whenever she took a corner.

She’d spent the morning moving through crowded aisles beneath hard white lights, checking lists, comparing labels and doubling back twice for things she’d forgotten. The fatigue sat behind her eyes now, softened only slightly by the air-conditioning pushing against her face.

She found a space near the gate and switched off the engine. The sudden quiet left the distant shouts from the field strangely clear.

Vesna gathered her hair off the back of her neck, held it there for a moment, then let it fall before climbing out. Heat met her at once, thick with the smell of sun-warmed tarmac and cut grass. She shut the door with her hip and pressed her fingertips briefly into the small of her back.

Children were spilling away from the field in bright training bibs, weaving between parents and open car doors. Vesna looked towards the nearest group, then beyond them to the line of cones still scattered across the grass.

Her gaze moved along the touchline.

A few parents folded chairs beneath the trees. Two boys chased each other around the fence while someone called after them. Near the goal, a man in a white shirt dragged a mesh sack of footballs towards the equipment shed.

Vesna adjusted the strap of her handbag higher onto her shoulder and looked towards the centre of the pitch, where the last of the children were being gathered. Her eyes passed over everyone once, then returned more slowly, catching on each tall figure before moving on.

No deep-teal shirt, no broad shape rising above the parents, and no muted burgundy beneath the hard afternoon sun.

Her fingers tightened around the leather strap of her shoulder bag, until it pressed into the tender marks left by the grocery bags. She released it, smoothing her palm down the side of her yellow skirt as though the movement had been necessary, then turned towards the gate.

Assistant Coach Luka stood just beyond it beside Anaka and Sen. He lifted one arm when he saw her, his wide smile visible even at a distance.

Sen was flushed from training, his fair fringe damp against his forehead. He held his water bottle against his chest while Anaka stood beside Sen in oversized sunglasses, one hand resting dramatically over the crown of his head as though claiming him from the crowd

“Mama,” Sen called, shifting the bottle into one hand before hurrying towards her, “We did passing today!” he said as Vesna bent to steady him when he reached her.

“Did you now?” Vesna brushed the damp hair away from his forehead, then straightened as he nodded, “You’ll have to tell me everything in the car.”

“I told her not to do a grocery run before pickup,” Anaka said to Luka who followed, as she approached, pushing her sunglasses into her hair. She gave Vesna’s tired face a pointed inspection, “But apparently my advice continues to have no value.”

“You told me to buy you those pistachio biscuits,” Vesna said, taking Sen’s sports bag when he let it slide from his shoulder, “That was the only advice you gave me.”

Anaka’s expression brightened at once, “You found them?” she asked, reaching for Vesna’s forearm with sudden interest and the other woman gave her an assuring nod.

Luka stood beside Anaka and Sen, much thinner than Valko, his narrow frame made longer by the dark training clothes hanging loosely through his waist. Sandy hair fell over his forehead, and the wide smile on his face appeared fixed there by nature rather than effort.

“Ms. Vesna,” he said, offering his hand as she joined them. “It’s good to see you again.”

“You too, coach,” Vesna said, shifting Sen’s bag to her other shoulder before taking his hand. His grip was brief and careful, “Anaka said you wanted to speak to me.”

“Yes, but it’s nothing serious at all,” Luka said quickly, his smile widening as he lifted both palms in reassurance, “I only wanted to clarify something about the sessions.”

Vesna glanced down at Sen. He was twisting the cap of his bottle back and forth, more interested in the faint squeak of plastic than the conversation. The ease in his posture loosened the last thread of concern that Anaka’s messages had left behind.

“All right, that's good to know,” she said with a relaxed smile, turning her attention back to Luka.

“Parents and guardians are always welcome to stay and watch,” Luka said, inclining his head towards the shaded touchline. “We’re happy to have you here, and there’s no issue at all when you do. But after the first session, it’s actually optional. It's not obligatory for anyone to remain at the field.”

He clasped his hands loosely in front of himself, his manner so formally polite that Vesna found herself standing a little straighter despite the ache between her shoulders.

“Anaka mentioned that you’ve been busy and won't always been able to come,” Luka continued, glancing towards her friend before returning to Vesna, “I thought perhaps nobody had explained it properly. You’re free to leave Sen with us during training and return when the session finishes, provided we know who’ll be collecting him.”

“Oh,” Vesna shifted Sen’s bag higher, the bottle inside knocking against something solid, “Thank you for letting me know. I’d assumed staying was expected, especially while he was still settling in.”

“It’s completely understandable,” Luka said, giving Sen another of his easy smiles, “He’s doing very well, and he knows us now. We’ll always contact you if there’s ever any problem.”

“I appreciate that, thank you,” Vesna said. She rested one hand briefly against Sen’s shoulder and felt him lean into the touch without looking up, “It’ll make Saturdays easier when I’ve got work to finish.”

Beside Luka, Anaka released a long breath and pressed one hand to her chest.

“Oh thank God,” she said, letting her shoulders collapse as though she’d personally been freed from a binding contractual obligation, “Because I’ve been carrying the full emotional weight of this arrangement for two entire weeks!”

“You’re the one who volunteered-” Vesna began, shifting Sen’s bag higher on her shoulder.

“Ms. Vesna?” the voice came from behind her, deep enough to pass cleanly through the noise of the car park, making go absolutely still. Her fingers remained curled around the strap, and even the tired rise and fall of her breathing seemed to catch somewhere beneath her ribs.

Behind Anaka’s shoulder, Luka’s perpetual smile sharpened with recognition.

“Coach,” Luka greeted, straightening slightly as Valko came to stand beside them. The easy movement carried a quiet deference that made the difference between assistant and head coach clear without turning formal.

Vesna glanced at Anaka. A mischievous curve had already begun to draw itself across her mouth. Anaka caught Vesna looking and pressed her teeth into her lower lip, visibly containing whatever comment had risen there while her gaze travelled over Vesna’s face with intolerable delight.

Heat gathered beneath Vesna’s neck despite the open air and she turned before Anaka could make it worse.

Valko stood closer than she’d expected, broad enough to interrupt the sunlight at the edge of her vision. His burgundy hair had been swept back from his forehead, though several damp strands had loosened near his temple. The deep-teal training shirt followed the solid line of his shoulders and chest, darkened slightly along the collar from the afternoon heat.

“Coach Valko,” Vesna said, managing an even voice as she shifted Sen’s bag against her hip, “Hello.”

She stepped back as she spoke, placing another half-step of warm tarmac between them.

His eyes followed the movement before settling on her face. He didn’t pretend not to look. The interest in his amber gaze was open and unhurried, resting on her with enough focus to make her suddenly aware of the hair clinging to the back of her neck and the faint creases the grocery bags had left across her fingers.

“Hello, Ms. Vesna,” Valko said, the warmth beneath his deep voice carrying easily between them. His gaze remained on hers for another moment, then shifted towards Sen before its weight could become uncomfortable, “I was hoping I’d catch you today.”

Vesna’s fingers tightened around the bag strap, but Valko had already angled his body towards her son.

“He’s been doing really well,” he said, nodding towards Sen with an expression of grave professional approval, “His passing was sharp today, and he’s starting to look up before he moves the ball. That’s a big improvement.”

Sen’s shoulders lifted. The tired flush across his cheeks seemed to brighten as he looked up at Valko, pride pulling his mouth into a restrained smile.

“I passed to Milan three times,” Sen said, holding one small fist towards him, “And Marko once!”

“You did,” Valko said, touching his knuckles carefully against Sen’s, “Clean passes too, champ!”

Instead of lowering his hand, Sen kept his fist raised and gave Valko an expectant look.

Valko’s brows rose, “Oh, you want the full thing?” he asked, glancing down at him with exaggerated seriousness.

Sen nodded, his close mouth smile widening.

Valko lowered himself into a crouch beside him, one knee bending towards the ground, “Sen invented our new team handshake,” he said, looking up at Vesna, “He decided the old greeting wasn’t advanced enough.”

Vesna looked at her son, “You came up with it?” she asked, unable to keep the surprise from softening her voice.

Sen nodded again, this time with more force. His fingers flexed eagerly at his side.

“He did,” Valko said, resting one forearm across his thigh, “Would you like to show your mom?”

Sen turned fully towards him and held out his hand.

Their palms met once with a light clap. They turned their hands and struck the backs together, then hooked their smallest fingers for a brief shake before breaking apart. Sen tapped both fists against Valko’s one after the other, crossed his arms over his chest and uncrossed them with great concentration. Valko mirrored every movement at half speed, his large hands careful and precise beside Sen’s much smaller ones.

They finished by pressing their knuckles together and twisting their wrists as though locking something into place.

“Goal secured!” Sen announced, pulling his fist back against his chest.

“Goal secured!” Valko repeated, giving the words the solemn weight of an official team oath.

Something in Vesna’s chest eased before she could stop it.

Only two weeks ago, Sen had hidden behind her skirt and watched Valko’s offered fist as though it might be a test he could fail. Now he stood in the middle of the car park demonstrating something he’d created himself, his chin lifted and his eyes bright with the certainty that the adults around him wanted to see it.

Her mouth curved and Valko rose smoothly to his feet, “Yeah, up top, little man!” he said, lifting one broad palm far above Sen’s head.

Sen tipped his face back, bent his knees, gathered himself with unnecessary seriousness and jumped, one arm stretching towards Valko’s hand. His fingers missed by several inches.

Valko kept his palm raised, “Nearly,” he encouraged, his mouth twitching as Sen landed and immediately prepared to try again. Sen jumped a second time, higher than before, and Valko lowered his hand at the final moment so their palms met with a sharp clap.

The small deception was so obvious, and Sen’s triumph so complete, that Vesna laughed. The sound escaped cleanly before she could contain it and Valko turned towards her.

For the smallest fraction of a second, his expression emptied -not cooled, but caught. His eyes widened slightly as they fixed on her smile, and the easy confidence in his face seemed to lose its footing.

Vesna’s laughter faded and her lips closed as she searched his expression, the sudden stillness making unease brush beneath her ribs. She lifted one hand towards the loose hair beside her cheek, wondering whether she’d laughed too loudly or at the wrong moment.

“Sorry,” she began, her fingers hovering near her ear.

Valko’s brows drew together because for once, the answer seemed to evade him entirely.

“You don’t-” he started, then stopped, his mouth parting again as though the right words might arrive if he gave them another second.

Anaka moved before they did.

“Well, we should go,” she announced, slipping one arm through Vesna’s and drawing her half a step sideways, “I’ve been deprived of coffee for nearly an hour, and Vesna’s agreed to correct that, haven't you?”

“I, uh, wait, what?” Vesna's eyebrows lowered in confusion as Anaka tightened her hold.

“You were about to,” Anaka replied, turning her brightest smile on Valko, “She’s very generous when properly pressured.”

Then she winked at him and Vesna felt the heat rise all the way to her ears this time.

“Goodbye, Coach Luka,” Vesna said quickly, shifting Sen’s bag higher before looking towards Valko, “Coach Valko.”

His gaze stayed on her face, “Goodbye, Ms. Vesna,” he said, the pause before her name almost imperceptible.

Vesna nodded once, then placed a hand against Sen’s shoulder and guided him towards the car before Anaka could offer anything further. They’d barely made it beyond the gate when Anaka leaned close, her sunglasses brushing Vesna’s hair.

“Told ya,” she whispered, satisfaction curling through every word, “That man is completely smitten with you!”

Vesna rolled her eyes and kept walking, though the memory of her unnecessary apology and the strange, arrested look on Valko’s face when she’d laughed followed her all the way to the car.