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And somewhere between the disappointment of the past and the uncertainty of the future, Francesco understood that his role at Arsenal was about to become more important than he had ever imagined.
For a few seconds after entering the changing room, Francesco simply stood beside his locker and watched the familiar scene unfold around him.
Alexis Sánchez was still talking, his hands moving almost as quickly as his words as he explained something to Aaron Ramsey. Mesut Özil sat on the bench nearby, pulling off his training boots while listening with half a smile. A couple of the younger players were arguing good-naturedly about who had won a finishing drill, each presenting his case as though the result might determine the course of the entire season.
It was ordinary.
Comfortingly ordinary.
Yet Francesco found himself looking at it differently.
These were the players he had led through three extraordinary years, a group that had won the Premier League and Champions League repeatedly and grown accustomed to seeing trophies added to Arsenal's collection. They were teammates, friends, and competitors, but they were also a dressing room that would eventually have to adjust to life without Arsène Wenger.
And none of them knew.
Francesco changed out of his training gear, answering a question from Ramsey about a particularly difficult passing exercise without allowing his thoughts to wander too far. When Alexis asked whether he wanted to join them for something to eat later, he agreed, although he knew he would have to be careful not to let his mood betray anything unusual.
He could not suddenly become distant. He could not start looking at Wenger differently in front of the others. He certainly could not begin treating every conversation as though it might be one of their last under the manager.
Nothing had changed publicly.
Wenger remained their manager. Training would continue the following day. Arsenal still had a season to finish.
For now, Francesco had to live with that distinction.
He could know what was coming without behaving as though the rest of the world should already know it too.
The following days settled into the demanding rhythm of a football season.
The FA Cup defeat did not disappear from the players' minds overnight. It remained an uncomfortable subject, particularly during the first training session after their return, when the coaching staff reviewed several passages from the Manchester United match.
Wenger did not spend an entire morning humiliating the squad with footage of their mistakes. He had no interest in turning disappointment into a punishment that would linger long after its usefulness had passed. Instead, he paused the video at particular moments and asked questions.
Why had the midfield allowed United to turn so easily?
Why had the defensive line dropped at precisely the moment when the opposition needed room to attack?
And why, after fighting their way back from two goals down, had Arsenal allowed the game to become stretched again?
Some players answered immediately. Others remained quiet, recognising that the questions were not always directed at one particular individual.
Francesco listened from his seat.
He had already watched the match again himself. He knew that the comeback had demonstrated Arsenal's quality, but he also understood that the first-half performance had exposed weaknesses that could not be dismissed simply because the team had almost recovered.
Almost was not enough.
At the end of the meeting, Wenger stood beside the screen and looked across the room.
"We have lost a competition," he said. "We cannot change that now. What we can decide is whether the experience makes us more determined or whether we allow it to affect the rest of our season."
He let the words settle.
"The answer will not be found in what you tell me today. It will be found in how you train tomorrow, and how you play in our next match."
Francesco glanced around the room.
That was the part he intended to take seriously.
The captain did not need to deliver a dramatic speech every time Arsenal suffered a setback. Sometimes leadership meant being the first person to arrive at an exercise, the last to abandon a difficult drill, or the teammate who reminded someone to complete a recovery run even when the session was nearly over.
So he worked.
When a passing sequence broke down, he demanded another repetition. When a finishing drill became too casual, he challenged Alexis to beat him in the next round, provoking an immediate response from the Chilean.
"You think you're going to beat me at everything now?" Alexis asked, narrowing his eyes.
"No," Francesco replied. "Just the important things."
Alexis laughed.
"Good. Then you should be worried."
The competition between them became loud enough to draw Ramsey's attention, and soon the finishing drill had become a small contest that neither striker was willing to lose.
That was precisely what Francesco wanted.
Not forced enthusiasm. Not empty declarations about how much they wanted to win.
He wanted the players to care about the details again.
Wenger watched from the edge of the pitch, occasionally calling out an instruction or correcting a player's positioning. He did not praise Francesco for every demanding run or every word he exchanged with a teammate. Their relationship had never depended on constant reassurance.
But once, after Francesco pressed a defender into making a hurried clearance during a small-sided exercise, Wenger gave him a brief nod.
Francesco returned it and carried on.
The secret remained where it belonged.
He did not mention retirement. He did not discuss Arteta. When the players speculated about possible summer transfers, he joined the conversation as he normally would, offering opinions about positions Arsenal might strengthen without allowing the knowledge of a future managerial change to influence his words.
At home, Leah noticed that he seemed more thoughtful than usual.
She asked him one evening whether he was still frustrated about the FA Cup, and he admitted that he was.
"I hate losing games we should have done better in," he told her.
"So does everyone."
"Not everyone thinks about it as much as I do."
Leah gave him a knowing look.
"That sounds like a problem you could solve by occasionally allowing yourself to have a normal evening."
"I am having a normal evening."
"You've been staring at the same page on your phone for five minutes."
Francesco glanced down. She was right.
He put the phone aside, and she leaned against him on the sofa.
"You don't have to fix everything tonight," she said.
He smiled slightly.
"I know."
And he did know, at least in principle. Wenger had reminded him of precisely that responsibility in the office. His job was to lead his teammates, not to carry the entire institution on his shoulders.
Still, the conversation had changed something in him.
There were matters he could discuss with Leah, and others he could not. The distinction felt uncomfortable, but he had made a promise to Wenger, and he intended to honour it.
So he allowed the evening to continue without letting the secret intrude upon it.
For the moment, football could wait until morning.
By the time Arsenal prepared to face Cardiff City at the Emirates Stadium, the mood around London Colney had become more focused.
The disappointment had not vanished, but it had settled into something the players could work with. The training sessions were sharper. The conversations on the pitch carried more urgency, and Wenger had spent considerable time preparing the squad for a Cardiff side that would not simply surrender because Arsenal were playing at home.
Cardiff were expected to defend in compact areas, contest second balls, and look for opportunities to attack quickly when Arsenal committed bodies forward.
Francesco understood the challenge.
A match against an opponent who defended deep could become frustrating if Arsenal attempted to force the ball through the middle without patience. Their movement had to be intelligent. Their width had to stretch the defensive line, and their midfielders needed to recognise when to accelerate and when to recycle possession.
On matchday, the Emirates filled gradually with supporters wearing red and white.
The atmosphere was lively, though there remained an unmistakable expectation that Arsenal would respond to their cup disappointment with a convincing performance. Banners hung from the stands, flags moved above the crowd, and the noise grew as the players emerged for their warm-up.
Francesco jogged toward the penalty area, rolling his shoulders and taking a few touches before passing the ball back to Özil.
"Ready?" the German asked.
"Always."
Özil smiled.
"Then make the runs. I'll find you."
"That's what I'm counting on."
Across the pitch, Alexis was already striking shots at goal with his usual ferocity. Gnabry worked through a series of quick movements near the touchline, while Ramsey and Kanté exchanged short passes before moving into their stretching routine.
Francesco watched Kanté for a moment.
There was something reassuring about the Frenchman's presence in midfield. He did not dominate matches through theatrical gestures or constant shouting. He simply covered ground, anticipated danger, and seemed to arrive wherever Arsenal needed him.
Francesco would later have reason to be grateful that the club understood his importance.
But for now, there was a match to win.
When the teams came out for kick-off, the Emirates rose to greet them.
The opening minutes were not effortless.
Cardiff defended with discipline, keeping their midfield narrow and forcing Arsenal to work the ball toward the flanks. Their defenders tracked Francesco closely, one stepping forward whenever he dropped between the lines while another remained prepared to cover the space behind.
Arsenal circulated possession, but their first few attacks ended in blocked crosses and clearances.
The crowd groaned when one promising move broke down.
Francesco clapped his hands.
"Again! Keep moving!"
He dropped deeper to receive a pass from Ramsey, controlled it under pressure, and returned it first time to Özil before spinning into the space behind Cardiff's midfield. The German tried to thread the ball through, but a defender stretched out a leg and diverted it toward the touchline.
It was a small moment, but it showed the adjustment Arsenal needed. Cardiff were prepared to follow Francesco when he came short. The answer was not to abandon the movement, but to make the defenders pay when they followed him too aggressively.
The breakthrough came after Arsenal had begun to establish a more sustained rhythm.
Kanté intercepted a Cardiff pass near the centre circle and immediately moved the ball forward to Ramsey. Ramsey took one touch, drew an opposing midfielder toward him, and slipped the ball into Özil's path.
Özil looked up.
Francesco had initially moved toward the ball, inviting his marker to follow. At the last moment, he changed direction and accelerated diagonally between the centre-back and full-back.
Özil saw it.
The pass arrived through the gap with precisely the right weight, allowing Francesco to reach it without breaking stride.
For a fraction of a second, the defender alongside him had the advantage. Francesco used his body to shield the ball, nudged it into the penalty area, and looked up as the goalkeeper advanced.
He could have tried to strike immediately.
Instead, he took one more touch across his body, drawing the goalkeeper toward the near post, then drove a low finish into the far corner.
The net rippled.
The Emirates erupted.
Francesco's arms spread as he turned toward the supporters, the roar growing around him. Teammates raced across the penalty area to celebrate, Ramsey grabbing him around the shoulders while Özil arrived with a grin.
"That is the run I wanted!" Özil shouted.
"And that is the pass I wanted!" Francesco replied.
Alexis reached them and gave Francesco a playful shove.
"One goal," he said. "You are finished now?"
Francesco laughed.
"Not even close."
The goal had not come from a spectacular piece of individual magic. It had come from patience, movement, and a midfielder recognising the moment when the opposition's defensive structure could finally be broken.
That mattered to Francesco.
Arsenal needed to remember that good football was often built through small decisions repeated correctly.
Cardiff responded with greater urgency. They began pressing higher in selected moments, attempting to prevent Arsenal from building comfortably from the back. The change created a few awkward passages, including one misplaced pass that forced the home defence to retreat quickly.
Wenger shouted instructions from the technical area, urging his players to remain composed.
Arsenal survived the pressure, but Cardiff's willingness to attack meant the match became more open.
And that was when Alexis Sánchez found his opportunity.
Receiving the ball on the left, Alexis faced his full-back and shifted his weight twice before darting inside. A second Cardiff player moved across to help, but Alexis had already created the angle he wanted.
He struck a curling shot toward the far corner.
The goalkeeper launched himself across the goalmouth, fingertips reaching for the ball, but the effort bent beyond his hand and nestled inside the post.
Two-nil.
Alexis wheeled away, shouting with delight, before his teammates caught up with him.
Francesco arrived last, pointing toward the Chilean.
"That one was yours," he said.
Alexis grinned.
"Obviously."
The goal gave Arsenal greater control, and for a period they played with the confidence that had characterised so much of their recent success. Their passing became quicker, their movement more fluid, and Cardiff struggled to maintain the same defensive compactness.
Yet the visitors did not disappear from the contest.
They continued to challenge Arsenal physically and searched for openings whenever the home side lost possession. Shortly before the interval, a cross into the penalty area caused confusion. A Cardiff attacker managed to get across his marker and direct the ball toward goal, forcing the Arsenal goalkeeper into a sharp save.
The rebound was cleared, and the Emirates responded with relieved applause.
Francesco turned toward his teammates.
"Stay switched on," he called. "It's not finished."
The message was necessary.
Two goals were an advantage, not a guarantee.
Cardiff returned after the break with renewed determination, and Arsenal briefly struggled to settle. The visitors won a succession of challenges in midfield, and one attack ended with a low shot from the edge of the area that slipped beyond the goalkeeper's reach.
The ball struck the inside of the post before crossing the line.
Two-one.
The Cardiff players celebrated together while their supporters found their voices again.
For a moment, the atmosphere inside the Emirates tightened.
Francesco placed his hands on his hips, took a breath, and looked toward the halfway line. The goal was a reminder of the danger of allowing a match to drift. Cardiff had been given encouragement, and Arsenal now had to demonstrate that they could respond without losing their composure.
Kanté approached him as they moved into position.
"We keep playing," the midfielder said simply.
Francesco nodded.
"Exactly."
Arsenal began to recover control through possession rather than panic. Kanté moved across the midfield to close passing lanes, Ramsey offered himself as an outlet, and Özil repeatedly found pockets of space where he could turn and move the ball forward.
Francesco became more involved in linking the attack, dropping toward the midfield before making runs into the box. His movement forced Cardiff's defenders to make difficult decisions: follow him and leave space behind, or hold their positions and risk allowing him to receive the ball facing goal.
The decisive third goal arrived through Serge Gnabry.
The winger had been patient throughout the match, stretching the Cardiff defence and tracking back when Arsenal lost possession. Now, as the visitors began committing more players forward, he found space on the right.
Ramsey won the ball in midfield and moved it quickly to Özil. The German carried it forward before releasing Gnabry into the channel.
Gnabry accelerated toward the penalty area, his first touch pushing the ball into space. The full-back attempted to recover, but the winger cut inside before he could close him down.
For an instant, Francesco thought Gnabry might square the ball across the six-yard box.
Instead, the young attacker struck it himself.
His shot travelled hard and low, passing beyond the goalkeeper and into the net.
Three-one.
Gnabry sprinted toward the corner flag, his face breaking into an enormous smile. Francesco was among the first to reach him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as the others joined the celebration.
"That's what we needed!" Francesco told him.
Gnabry laughed, still breathing hard.
"I thought you'd be shouting at me for not passing."
"I might have done if you'd missed."
"Very reassuring, captain."
"That's what I'm here for."
The exchange made them both laugh, and the tension that had followed Cardiff's goal finally began to ease.
Arsenal still had work to do. They moved the ball sensibly through the final stages, refusing to chase unnecessary attacks or leave themselves exposed simply to score another goal. Cardiff tried to find a second, but Kanté and the defenders dealt with the danger, and the home side maintained enough control to see out the contest.
When the final whistle sounded, the Emirates answered with applause.
Arsenal had won 3–1.
Francesco raised a hand toward the stands, acknowledging the supporters before turning to congratulate the Cardiff players. Alexis exchanged a few words with one of their defenders, while Gnabry was greeted by several teammates who had clearly enjoyed seeing him get on the scoresheet.
As Francesco made his way toward the tunnel, Wenger met him near the touchline.
"Better," the manager said.
Francesco nodded.
"Much better."
"But not perfect."
"No."
Wenger's mouth curved into a faint smile.
"Good. I would be concerned if you thought it was."
Francesco glanced back toward the pitch, where several players were still applauding the supporters.
"We responded after they scored. That was important."
"Yes. But we must remember why we were forced to respond in the first place. We became a little careless after the second goal, and against a stronger opponent, that may cost us more."
"I'll speak to the lads."
"Speak to them, certainly. But remember that the best message is the one you give through your own performance."
Francesco nodded.
"I understand, boss."
Wenger placed a hand briefly on his shoulder before moving toward the tunnel.
The exchange was ordinary, almost routine. Yet Francesco felt the weight of it. The man standing beside him was still the manager he knew, still assessing the game with the same sharp attention to detail. Nothing in his voice or manner suggested to the players that he was preparing to leave.
Francesco would have to become accustomed to holding two truths in his mind: Wenger was still leading Arsenal today, and he would not be there forever.
The dressing room after the match was considerably louder than it had been after the defeat to Manchester United.
Music played from one of the speakers. Players joked as they removed their boots, and Gnabry was subjected to a round of teasing over his decision to shoot rather than pass.
"You saw Francesco in the middle," Ramsey said. "He was already preparing to celebrate his second goal."
"I was open," Francesco protested.
"You were surrounded by three defenders."
"Details."
Alexis laughed from across the room.
"That is the problem with our captain. He thinks every ball belongs to him."
"Only the good ones," Francesco replied.
Kanté sat nearby, smiling quietly as the conversation moved around him. When Francesco passed, he stopped briefly.
"Good work today," the captain said.
"You too."
"That interception before the second goal was important."
Kanté shrugged, almost embarrassed by the praise.
"It was just the right moment."
"That's usually what you say."
"Because it's usually true."
Francesco smiled and moved on.
When Wenger addressed the squad, the room gradually settled.
He praised their response to the FA Cup elimination and acknowledged the quality of their three goals. He also made it clear that the performance was not beyond criticism.
"We showed good movement, patience, and determination," he said. "When Cardiff scored, we did not lose our heads. That is encouraging. But we must not confuse a good result with a complete performance."
His gaze moved across the players.
"We have standards because we expect to compete for the biggest trophies. Those standards do not disappear when we win, and they do not become optional when we lose."
Nobody argued.
Francesco looked around the room and saw players listening rather than merely waiting for the speech to end. It was a small difference, but one he appreciated.
The win had helped. It had reminded them that the Manchester United defeat did not define the remainder of their season.
But the real test would come in the matches ahead, when the novelty of responding to disappointment had worn off and discipline had to become routine again.
Arsenal still had competitions to pursue. They still had goals to achieve.
The FA Cup was gone, but their season was not.
After the match, the following preparations passed without major incident.
The squad returned to London Colney, reviewed the Cardiff performance, and began preparing for the next challenge. Training remained demanding, though Wenger adjusted the workload to account for recovery and the physical demands of the schedule.
Francesco continued to lead without turning every exercise into a test of character. He pushed when standards slipped, praised good work when it deserved recognition, and made time for younger players who needed advice.
He was learning that leadership was not always about being the loudest voice.
Sometimes it meant knowing when to challenge someone and when to leave them alone long enough to find their own rhythm.
Once the next phase of preparation had been completed, the players were given another day off.
Francesco welcomed it.
By late morning, he was back at his Richmond mansion, enjoying the kind of quiet that rarely existed during the working week. Cheddar wandered around the living room before settling near the sofa, and Francesco took a little time to himself before deciding to put on Sky Sports News.
The transfer window was approaching its final days, and the coverage had become increasingly frantic.
Clubs were negotiating, agents were making promises, and every presenter seemed convinced that the next hour might bring a development capable of changing the season.
Francesco settled back against the cushions, remote in hand.
The broadcast was discussing Newcastle United's latest business when the presenter introduced a report that immediately caught his attention.
"Newcastle United have completed the signing of Miguel Almirón from Atlanta United for a fee of around twenty million pounds. The attacking midfielder is expected to add creativity and energy to Newcastle's forward line, and the club clearly believe he can make an immediate contribution."
A graphic appeared on the screen, showing Almirón in his Atlanta United shirt alongside a photograph of him holding a Newcastle scarf.
The studio discussion followed.
"It's an interesting signing," one pundit remarked. "Twenty million pounds is a substantial investment for Newcastle, but they need players who can carry the ball, create chances, and give them another dimension in attack. Almirón has the energy to trouble defenders, particularly if he's given room to run at them."
His colleague nodded.
"And it tells you something about their intentions. They don't want to spend the final days of the window merely making up the numbers. They want players who can change the way they attack."
Francesco watched the discussion with interest.
He had learned not to dismiss what other clubs were doing. Arsenal's success over the previous three years had created a temptation to assume that their position would remain secure simply because they had been better than everyone else.
It would not.
Rivals were always looking for ways to improve. Some would spend heavily, others would search for players who suited a particular system, and a few might uncover unexpected talents who changed the balance of a match.
Almirón could prove an important addition for Newcastle. Francesco could not know exactly how the transfer would develop in this timeline, but the principle was familiar enough.
Every club wanted to move forward.
Arsenal could not afford to stand still.
He reached for a drink as the presenters returned to a discussion about the closing days of the window. The usual speculation followed: possible departures, late bids, clubs attempting to negotiate lower fees, and managers insisting that they were happy with their squads while privately searching for reinforcements.
Then the programme's familiar theme music faded.
A red banner appeared along the bottom of the screen.
BREAKING NEWS: N'GOLO KANTÉ AGREES NEW ARSENAL CONTRACT.
Francesco sat upright.
The presenter turned toward the main camera.
"We have breaking news from Arsenal. N'Golo Kanté has agreed to extend his contract with the club for a further three years. The new agreement is understood to include a weekly wage of one hundred and fifty thousand pounds, keeping the French midfielder at the Emirates for the foreseeable future."
For a moment, Francesco simply stared at the screen.
Then he smiled.
It was a genuine smile, one that came with a wave of relief he had not fully realised he was carrying.
Kanté was one of the most important players in the squad. His contribution rarely attracted the same attention as a striker's goals or a playmaker's assists, but Francesco knew how much Arsenal depended on him.
Kanté covered spaces that other players barely noticed. He read danger before it became obvious, recovered possession without needing to make every tackle spectacular, and gave his teammates the confidence to attack because they knew someone was protecting the midfield behind them.
His energy was extraordinary, but his intelligence was just as important. He understood when to press, when to hold his position, and when a seemingly harmless pass might be the beginning of a dangerous attack.
Arsenal's system benefited enormously from that consistency.
And now the club had secured his future for another three years.
The pundits were already discussing the significance of the agreement.
"This is a major piece of business for Arsenal," one said. "Kanté is not simply a defensive midfielder who wins the ball. He allows the players in front of him to take risks. He covers for advancing full-backs, closes passing lanes, and makes it much harder for opponents to counterattack through the centre."
"Exactly," his colleague replied. "When you have a side with this much attacking quality, a player like Kanté can be the difference between an excellent team and one that is genuinely difficult to beat. He gives them balance. He gives them control. And he does it week after week."
The screen showed footage of Kanté winning possession, carrying the ball away from pressure, and quickly moving it toward Arsenal's attackers.
Francesco watched with quiet satisfaction.
The contract was a major positive development for Arsenal. Retaining important players would matter just as much as recruiting new ones, especially with so much uncertainty surrounding the long-term future of the club's leadership.
He could not allow himself to dwell on that last thought.
Wenger's retirement remained confidential. Arteta's name had not been mentioned publicly as a possible successor, and Francesco had no intention of being the person who allowed either piece of information to escape.
Still, the importance of stability was impossible to ignore.
Whatever happened in the future, Arsenal needed players who understood one another, trusted their teammates, and could maintain their standards through difficult periods. Kanté represented exactly that sort of foundation.
Francesco picked up his phone.
He had no need to send a formal message through an intermediary. Kanté was his teammate, and the news was important enough that he wanted to congratulate him personally.
He found the midfielder's number and pressed call.
It rang several times before Kanté answered.
"Francesco?"
"Hello, N'Golo. Have I caught you at a bad time?"
"No, no. Everything is fine. What's happening?"
Francesco leaned back against the sofa, smiling.
"I've just seen the news."
There was a brief pause.
"Ah," Kanté said, and Francesco could almost hear the modest smile in his voice. "Yes. It seems everybody knows now."
"Well, congratulations."
"Thank you."
"I'm serious. Three more years. That's brilliant news for the club."
Kanté gave a small laugh.
"I'm happy. Arsenal has been very good to me."
"And you've been very good to Arsenal."
"Oh, you don't need to say that."
"Yes, I do. You know how much we rely on you."
Kanté was quiet for a moment.
Francesco continued before his teammate could dismiss the compliment entirely.
"I'm not just talking about the tackles or the interceptions. It's the way you keep the whole midfield together. You cover for everyone, you make the difficult parts look simple, and you give the rest of us the freedom to do our jobs."
"I just try to help the team."
"I know. That's exactly why I'm telling you."
Kanté laughed again, sounding slightly embarrassed.
"You make it sound as though I have done something extraordinary."
"You have. You just happen to be too modest to admit it."
"Maybe you should worry more about your own goals."
Francesco chuckled.
"Believe me, I do."
"And perhaps you should score a few more before telling everybody else how important they are."
"Three goals in one match wasn't enough for you?"
"It was a good start."
"A good start?" Francesco repeated, pretending to be offended. "I see how it is. I congratulate you on your contract, and you immediately start demanding more goals."
"Of course. We need to win more trophies."
The humour softened into something more sincere.
Francesco glanced toward the window, where the afternoon light fell across the garden.
"That's the plan," he said. "We've had an incredible three years, but I don't want us to start thinking that's enough. I want us to keep winning. The league, the Champions League, everything we're still competing for. I want us to look back in a few years and know we didn't waste what we had."
"I agree," Kanté said. "It is important to enjoy what we have achieved, but we cannot live from the past. Every season starts again. Every match is different."
"Exactly."
Francesco appreciated that Kanté understood without needing a long explanation. He was not interested in grand speeches about ambition. He simply wanted to play well, help the team, and win.
That attitude was part of what made him so valuable.
"And now that you've signed," Francesco added, "you have no excuse to leave us without our midfield protection."
Kanté laughed.
"I think the contract means I have to stay."
"Good. I'll remind you if you forget."
"I am sure you will, captain."
There was warmth in the way he said it. Francesco knew Kanté respected him, not simply because he wore the armband, but because he demanded the same things of himself that he asked from his teammates.
Their conversation continued for several minutes. They spoke briefly about the Cardiff match, the importance of responding properly after the FA Cup defeat, and the need to maintain their concentration through the demanding weeks ahead.
Kanté was pleased with the victory, though he agreed that conceding after taking a two-goal lead was something the team needed to examine. Francesco told him that he had been particularly important in helping Arsenal regain control of the midfield after Cardiff's goal.
Again, Kanté tried to brush off the praise.
"You make one pass, win one ball, and everybody starts talking about you."
"That's because you do it about twenty times a match."
"Not twenty."
"Fine. Nineteen."
Kanté laughed so loudly that Francesco joined him.
For a while, it was simply two teammates talking. No manager's retirement, no future appointment, no burden of confidential knowledge. Just footballers discussing their club and the things they still wanted to achieve together.
Eventually, Kanté mentioned that he needed to get back to his day.
"I won't keep you," Francesco said. "Congratulations again, mate. I'm genuinely happy for you."
"Thank you, Francesco. I appreciate it."
"And let's make those three years count."
"We will. We still have a lot to do."
"Absolutely. Enjoy the rest of your day."
"You too. See you at training."
"See you, N'Golo."
They ended the call warmly.
Francesco lowered his phone, his smile lingering for a moment before he returned his attention to the television.
Sky Sports News had moved on to the next transfer story. The presenters were discussing another club's negotiations, while a reporter stood outside a training ground waiting for a manager to emerge and answer questions about possible signings.
The transfer window was nearly closed, but English football had not stopped moving.
Francesco settled back into the sofa, listening as the broadcast continued.
Kanté had committed his future to Arsenal. That was one important piece of the club's immediate future secured, and it gave Francesco genuine reason to feel optimistic.
Yet the news also reminded him that the work ahead would require more than keeping talented players under contract.
Arsenal had to preserve their hunger. They had to continue improving, resist the comfort that could come from repeated success, and make sure that the standards established over the previous three years remained part of their daily lives rather than memories of what they had once achieved.
Somewhere at London Colney, Wenger was preparing the team for the next match, still their manager and still responsible for leading them through the remainder of the season.
And behind closed doors, a future transition waited.
Francesco would say nothing about it.
He would not tell Leah, Alexis, Özil, or anyone else. He would keep the promise he had made in Wenger's office and allow the club to handle its future in its own time.
For now, he could be pleased about Kanté's contract, appreciate the Cardiff victory, and enjoy a rare afternoon without training or tactical meetings.
Cheddar shifted beside the sofa, nudging Francesco's hand until he began scratching behind the dog's ears.
Francesco glanced at the television once more.
The presenters were already debating who might make the next big move before the transfer window closed.
Football never stood still.
Neither could Arsenal.
And when the time came for the club to face its next great change, Francesco intended to make sure that the team he loved was ready to meet it.
__________________________________________________
Name : Francesco Lee
Age : 20 (2018)
Birthplace : London, England
Football Club : Arsenal First Team
Championship History : 2014/2015 Premier League, 2014/2015 FA Cup, 2015/2016 Community Shield, 2016/2017 Premier League, 2015/2016 Champions League, Euro 2016, Premier League Champion 2016/2017, FA Cup 2016/2017, 2016/2017 Champions League, 2017/2018 Carabao Cup, Premier League 2017/2018, FA Cup 2017/2018, Champions League 2017/2018, 2018 World Cup, and 2018/2019 Community Shield.
Season 17/18 stats:
Arsenal:
Match: 30
Goal: 35
Assist: 1
MOTM: 0
POTM: 0
England:
Match: 2
Goal: 2
Assist: 0
MOTM: 0
Season 17/18 stats:
Arsenal:
Match: 59
Goal: 76
Assist: 6
MOTM: 7
POTM: 0
England:
Match: 11
Goal: 14
Assist: 1
MOTM: 7
Season 16/17 stats:
Arsenal:
Match: 55
Goal: 87
Assist: 5
MOTM: 14
POTM: 1
England:
Match: 1
Goal: 1
Assist: 0
MOTM: 0
Season 15/16 stats:
Arsenal:
Match Played: 60
Goal: 82
Assist: 10
MOTM: 9
POTM: 1
England:
Match Played: 2
Goal: 4
Assist: 0
Euro 2016
Match Played: 6
Goal: 13
Assist: 4
MOTM: 6
Season 14/15 stats:
Match Played: 35
Goal: 45
Assist: 12
MOTM: 9