The moment Arjun's foot touched the turf, a wave of noise crashed over him.
He barely had time to take a breath before a ball was zipped toward him from the left. Instinct kicked in. A deft first touch, a quick pivot, a short pass to Faizan on the overlap — and the crowd roared.
> "Okay. Feet under you. Now breathe."
But breathing was hard when 30,000 people were watching your every move.
The ball came back to him. He passed again — simple, sharp. Then again. He moved between lines, scanning, absorbing, adjusting to the rhythm of the senior game.
In the stands, Amma held her scarf tightly, blinking fast. Beside her, Kalyani wore a baseball cap, her eyes locked on him.
He didn't know they were there. But somehow, he felt them.
---
By the 70th minute, Arjun had completed 12 passes without error, drawn a foul, and helped win a corner. But he hadn't made a forward risk. He was playing it safe — textbook. Efficient. Unmemorable.
Then came the 74th minute.
Faizan sprinted down the wing, drew two defenders, and cut the ball back to the top of the box — to Arjun.
Open. Perfect.
The crowd rose.
This was it — his moment.
He struck.
The ball flew… but not cleanly.
It skidded wide. Inches.
The groan from the crowd hit harder than the miss.
Arjun stood frozen. He stared at the turf like it had betrayed him.
> "No. Not now."
---
On the bench, Coach Sameer didn't flinch. But Arjun saw the assistant scribble something in a notebook.
Aditya, watching from the other end of midfield, jogged over.
"You hesitated," he muttered during the next play.
"I didn't—"
"You thought about the crowd. The pass. The shot. You thought too much. At this level, you don't think. You just do."
Arjun bit down his reply.
---
The match ended 1–0, thanks to a late header by a senior striker. Blasters won.
In the locker room, players celebrated. Coaches shook hands. Faizan got a high five from the assistant for his assist.
Arjun sat quietly, untying his boots.
He'd played 28 minutes. Made no glaring errors.
But all he could think about was the miss.
---
Later that night, back at the hostel, he lay in bed wide-eyed, staring at the ceiling fan.
His phone buzzed.
Kalyani:
> "You played well."
He hesitated before replying.
Arjun:
> "I missed."
Kalyani:
> "You played."
He stared at that reply for a long time.
Then put the phone aside, closed his eyes, and for the first time in weeks, didn't dream of his past life.
---
The next morning at training, Aditya approached him after warm-ups.
"You've got a good touch. Decent read of space. But you play with ghosts."
Arjun looked up, surprised. "Ghosts?"
"You play like you're trying not to fail, instead of trying to fly."
Arjun swallowed.
> "He's not wrong."
---
The rest of the week, Arjun trained like a man possessed.
He didn't smile. Didn't chat. Just focused.
After drills, he stayed back to shoot.
Ten times from the top of the box.
Then twenty.
Then another twenty.
Coach Sameer noticed.
So did Faizan.
---
By the next match — a tougher opponent from I-League — Arjun was named as a second-half substitute again.
But this time, something had changed.
When he came on in the 63rd minute, he didn't hesitate.
In the 66th, he nutmegged a defender.
In the 70th, he intercepted a lazy pass and launched a counter.
In the 75th minute, he curled in an assist.
No celebration. Just a calm jog back to midfield.
The crowd chanted his name now. Not loud. But enough.
> "Ar-jun! Ar-jun!"
He finally allowed himself a smile.
---
After the match, the assistant coach handed him a small slip.
"Senior team press media interview. You're up."
"What?" Arjun blinked.
"You're the Academy boy who just made headlines."
---
The interview was short, but impactful.
A local reporter asked, "Arjun, what drives you at this level?"
He paused.
Then looked straight at the camera.
> "I'm finishing the dream my father couldn't."
The clip went viral.
Overnight, Arjun's name trended on Kerala football Twitter.
---
Back in her hotel room after a night shoot, Kalyani watched the interview on her phone. The way he spoke — that quiet fire, that weight in his eyes — it struck her again.
He wasn't just playing football.
He was writing a story deeper than any script.
She smiled to herself.
> "He's dangerous," she whispered.
> "But not because he wants fame…
Because he's chasing something no one else can see."
---