Right Place to Say "I Love You" - Kenan Yildiz

5: The International Break

The following Monday, as Isabella was on a lunch break at the Juventus HQ, sat alone in a computer room, scrolling through her phone, a notification slid down at the top of the screen. It was Kenan. She definitely had not expected to hear from him again so soon.

"Hey, are you working today?"

Isabella wasn't sure what time of response Kenan was hoping for but was honest with him.

"Yes, I am" she replied.

As she was looking through stuff on her phone, she realised Kenan wasn't responding as quickly as before. She checked their chat and it was marked *Seen* from 6 minutes before, without a reply. This wasn't his usual texting style but she brushed it off, assuming he was just busy with something, while remaining curious of what made him ask her that question in the first place.

A few more minutes passed, and as she was about to cut her  break short, from the corner of her eye she noticed a figure at the door of the room and turned her head to see who it was. It was no other than Kenan himself, stood in a dark tracksuit, arms crossed, smirking at her while chewing gum. She didn't hold back from letting her confused expression turn into a soft smile.

"What are you doing here?" Isabella asked, very surprised to see him there.

He chuckled and began walking over to the desk she was sat at. "I just had a team meeting downstairs but I thought I could find you here before I left."

Isabella looked up at him from the office chair, realising how tall he really is. "Is that so?" She replied, putting down her phone.

"Yes. I think this lets me go anywhere." He points joyfully to the card with his picture on it, being worn round his neck on a lanyard.

She laughs as he shows her, even though she knows he shouldn't really be in that department. "Well you're lucky I'm on my break right now." She tells him.

"Yes, I must be really lucky." He responds, pulling over a chair from another desk and sitting next to Isabella's one. His comment catches her off guard and she pauses for a second, breaking the eye contact. "I have a flight to Turkey tonight, I'll be away for a 5 days. It would be rude to not come and see you before." Kenan continued to smile as he spoke, clearly in a very good mood.

"Wait, it's time already?" She turns back to him, quickly remembering that Turkey is playing on Thursday. "Wow the weeks have gone by fast. It's going to be Turkey versus Austria right?"

He nods. "Yes. You know your stuff! I don't know if I'm in the starting 11 yet though, it won't be confirmed until the day."

She doesn't notice her lips curling up as he speaks, but she is subconsciously enjoying watching him be so happy. "I'm sure if they've been paying attention to your recent games here then you definitely will be. You seem excited."

He chuckles and looks down at his shoes for a second, Isabella's comment flattering him, showing she's taken notice of his recent playing.
"We'll see... I have a feeling it will be a good game." He responds, but realises he might be talking about himself too much. "Are you doing anything interesting over the week?"

Isabella thinks about her week briefly. She still doesn't really have a circle of friends around here and anyone she talks to in Turin is usually just a colleague. "Umm... I will maybe just do some exploring of the city while I have some extra time. That and relaxing."

"Good, I think you deserve it" Kenan replies while looking straight at the piles of worksheets she had spread all over the desk.

She laughs at his expression over the amount of work she has to do. "I think so too."

Kenan puts his hands on the table. "Well, I don't want to get kicked out of here and I also have to go and pack," He stands up and starts pushing the chair back to where he got it. "So I'll say goodbye and leave you to it."

Isabella realises how she should have gotten back to work minutes ago. "Okay well, it was nice of you to come by. I wish you luck! And I'll try my best to catch the game."

Kenan smiles and starts heading towards the door. "Thank you Isabella. Arrivederci!" He waves and makes his way out.

That night, Kenan left for Turkey.

Over the next few days Isabella threw herself into work, trying to focus on projects at Juventus that demanded her attention, but her mind would still occasionally drift to Kenan.

The evening of the match came, and Isabella found herself at home, a rare night off. She had been looking forward to watching Kenan play, but as the time approached, a strange nervousness gripped her. It was ridiculous, really—she wasn't the one stepping onto the field, but she felt an odd mix of pride and anxiety on his behalf.

She settled onto the couch with a glass of wine and turned on the game. As the Turkish national anthem played, the camera panned over the players, and there he was—Kenan Yildiz, focused and determined, his eyes set ahead with fierce concentration. Looks like he'd made it onto the starting 11 after all.

The match was intense from the start, with Turkey facing off against a tough opponent. Isabella found herself on edge, hands gripping her glass a little tighter than usual. And then, halfway through the first half, it happened—Kenan broke through the defense, his speed and control as sharp as ever. The ball left his foot with precision, flying past the goalkeeper and into the net.

Isabella jumped and shouted "Yes!" before she even realized it, startling herself with how loud her reaction was. The commentators buzzed with excitement, praising Kenan's skill and poise under pressure. She felt a rush of pride wash over her, a warmth that lingered through the rest of the match.

And he wasn't done. By the end of the second half, Kenan had scored again, sealing the win for Turkey. Isabella watched as his teammates swarmed him, lifting him in celebration. The camera zoomed in on his face, beaming with satisfaction, and she couldn't help but smile.

As the match ended and the post-game analysis began, Isabella picked up her phone. Although she knew Kenan wouldn't be immediately going on his phone after the match, she still thought to send him a message. She typed out:

"You were great out there. Two goals! Amazing!"

She hit send, then sat back, her heart still racing a little. She wondered if he'd even respond, knowing he'd be caught up in the chaos of post-match celebrations. About 15 minutes later, she's already been replied to by Kenan

"You watched?"

"Of course I did" The hype of the win had given me some confidence. I wasn't worried about playing to cool.

There was a pause, and then another message came through.

"That means a lot. It felt good. I can't wait to get back and tell you about it in person."

Isabella smiled at the message. But even through her excitement, she felt a strange twist of emotion she couldn't quite place. The distance, brief as it was, had done something to her. She missed him knowing he was so far away—not just in the way one misses a friend, but something deeper. And that scared her more than she wanted to admit.

The next few days felt like a blur before Kenan returned. She kept herself busy, editing photos from a recent shoot, working through projects at Juventus. One of her social media projects included posting a compilation of Juve players that had played for their national team over the past week, and it felt nice including Kenan, especially after he'd played so well.