International Break

March 2026 — International Break final preparations for the World Cup.

The sun was setting over Lisbon as Sporting's players filed off the pitch after a comfortable 2–0 win over Rio Ave. The club's board had announced the international squads the night before, and the camp exodus began. Striker Fábio Silva waved goodbye to teammates, Morita packed his bag with quiet focus, and Inácio clapped shoulders with Hjulmand, reminding him to stay sharp.

Amid the goodbyes, Sporting's number 17. Kai Alexander, lingered by the tunnel. He felt the pull of two worlds: the club that had become his home and the national team that beckoned thousands of miles away.

"England really called?" Pedro Gonçalves said, tugging at his sleeve as they strapped on backpacks. "Tried to be sneaky—nice ones, too. But you declined, right?"

Kai shook his head, voice steady. "My loyalty's with the U.S. I can't play for England." He offered a rueful grin. "And with that, I've got a plane to catch."

Atlanta, Georgia — A Day Later

The private jet touched down just after midnight, Atlanta's runway lights glimmering in the distance. Kai stepped off into a cool breeze scented faintly with pine and pavement. He skipped the media throng, slipped through a quiet gate, and found himself on familiar soil. His heart hammered.

At baggage claim, he spotted Kamie—Tez's sister—waiting with a small bouquet of wildflowers. She hugged him tightly the moment he appeared.

"Kai," she whispered, voice thick with relief. "Welcome back."

He swallowed hard, wrapping her in a firm embrace. "Thank you, sis."

They drove to the small house on the south side where her mother waited. Inside, photos of Tez—smiling in a baseball cap—lined the mantle. Kai placed the flowers in a vase and knelt by the framed image.

"I miss you, bro," he murmured, eyes misting.

Kamie sat beside him. "He'd be so proud of you."

They stayed intertwined in that moment, grief and love bound together, until Kamie's mother appeared, handing them tissue. She pulled them into a hug, and Kai felt the weight of the past month ease slightly.

"Thank you," her mother who's name is Angela said, voice soft. "Thank you for coming home."

Kai nodded, unwilling to speak through the lump in his throat. After a moment, he rose. "I have to go," he said gently. "The camp's waiting."

Kamie squeezed his hand. "Be safe. Be you."

Carlifonia, Los Angeles — USMNT Camp

The next morning, Kai arrived at the national training center—bright signage, manicured pitches, and the hum of a dozen languages mixing in the air. He carried a single duffel and wore the US tracksuit with the crest over his heart.

Gio Reyna was first to spot him. Reyna, with his trademark grin and swooping blond hair, bounded over.

"Kai! Man, it's good to see you, brother."

Kai returned the hug, relief flooding him. "Good to see you too."

They walked side by side toward the locker room, trading jokes about the Rio Ave match and how Lisbon had turned him into a local hero overnight.

Inside the bustling locker room, Kai waved to familiar faces: Christian Pulisic, Kellyn Acosta, Weston McKennie, and Tyler Adams. Each nodded in greeting. The camaraderie felt instant, a reminder that the patch on his chest had a power all its own.

Coach Mauricio Pochettino the former Spurs Manager and assistant Miguel stood in front of the whiteboard, outlining the upcoming friendlies.

"Welcome, Kai," Poch said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Big games ahead—Brazil and Germany. Two of the toughest opponents in the world."

Kai nodded, eyes bright. "We'll be ready."

Wood tapped the board. "First match: Brazil here in LA. Then Germany again here in LA. Both sold out. The fans are already chanting your name."

Kai's chest tightened at the thought of those roaring crowds. "Let's give them something to cheer about."

Poch smiled. "Exactly."

Training Session

On the green expanse of the practice field, Kai moved fluidly—passing, sprinting, mixing with Pulisic and Reyna in a three-man weave drill.

10 a.m. – Technical work: Kai slipped a no-look pass between the lines to Reyna, who returned it with a deft touch. Pulisic applauded from the side.

"That's the quality we need," Pulisic said, offering a thumbs-up.

11 a.m. – Small-sided games: Kai dominated his zone on the wing and drifted inside, scoring twice—once with a low curling strike reminiscent of his Milan winner.

"No one dribbles like that," McKennie laughed, clapping his back. "Teach me your ways, ohh great maestro."

2 p.m. – Set pieces: Coach Miguel placed him at 25 yards. Kai practiced free kicks, hitting the wall, bending it around cones. The sun glinted on his sweat-slicked skin.

"Beauty," Reyna called. "That's going in on Saturday."

As the second day of camp wound down, Kai lay on his bed in the athlete dorm, phone in hand. He stared at Madison's name on the screen.

He took a deep breath and tapped. "Hey, Mads. I'm in camp now. You free tonight?"

Almost instantly, Madison Quinn responded: "Can you come by? I also need to see you."

Kai's heart fluttered. He texted back, "I'll be there."

He stood, grabbed his keys and wallet, and jogged to the parking lot. The spring air was crisp on his face as he drove toward LA time zone's late evening.

Los Angeles, Madison's Place

Madison sat on her sofa, makeup gone, hair loose around her shoulders. The apartment was dimly lit. She'd been waiting an hour, worried as the minutes ticked by. The memory of Jake's aggression still stung.

A knock at the door made her heart leap. She stood, smoothing her shirt, and opened it.

Kai stepped inside, carrying a small bouquet of daisies—her favourite. Source? Her mom, Sarah. His smile was tired but warm.

"Mads," he said softly. "You okay?"

She swallowed and jumped on him with a hug. "I… needed to see you."

He hugged her back and they separated. He set the flowers on her coffee table and closed the door. "I'm here."

Madison's eyes brimmed with emotion. She met his gaze and felt a safety she hadn't known in weeks.

They sat close on the sofa.

"You did amazing," she said. "That free kick—unreal."

He shrugged, cheeks flushing. "Did it for the team. Did it for you."

She reached out, brushing his hand. "I've missed you."

Kai's heart surged. He took her other hand. "I missed you, too."

"I have something to tell you, Kai." She said as she looked down at the floor, she continued, "Im leaving that show. There is this guy, Jake he… he is a real jerk." She went on to say what Jake tried to do. Kai? Face unreadable. Fist clenched.

"Looks like me and this Jake guy should have a talk." Kai said with clenched teeth.

Madison's tear-filled smile wavered. "No, don't worry. He won't bother me again. Just promise to be with me from now on."

Kai drew her into a hug. "I promise."

They held each other in the quiet, the city humming outside. Tomorrow, they both had arenas to conquer—he with the USMNT against Brazil; she with her next big scene in Hollywood.

But tonight, it was enough to be together.

Madison looked up at him. "Stay a little longer."

Kai kissed her forehead. "Always."

And in that moment, two worlds—football and film—felt a little closer, bound by hearts that refused to let distance win.