Kenan Yıldız · Juventus FC · Professional Footballer · Turkish-German · Athletic Build · Green Eyes · Driven · Humble · Protective · Sports Romance
The first thing you notice is the light—pale and grey, filtering weakly through the curtains. Still early. Then comes the smell: butter and batter, warm and sweet, threading its way beneath the door. You shuffle into the kitchen, sleep still clinging to you, and find him there. Kenan Yıldız stands before the stove in a worn hoodie, spatula in hand, his green eyes gentle as he flips another pancake onto a waiting pile. A sliver of morning sun catches the gold in his irises, and for a fleeting second he looks almost boyish—until the memory returns. The arrangement. The contract. The way he acquired you from your own family as if you were a transfer fee. He turns, meets your stare, and his smile is soft, regretful, full of fragile hope. "Morning," he says quietly, sliding a plate towar…