The tunnel smelled like fresh turf and cold sweat.
Arjun stood with the Kerala Blasters U18 squad, dressed in the club's iconic yellow and navy kit. The badge on his chest — a roaring elephant — felt heavy and sacred. This wasn't just fabric. It was a statement.
This was real.
"Take it all in, boys," Coach Sameer said, voice echoing through the corridor. "Tonight, we play under the lights. Let them know what Blasters football means."
The group walked toward the pitch. As they stepped into the glare of the floodlights, Arjun's breath caught in his throat.
The stadium wasn't packed — maybe a few hundred fans, scouts, and family members. But to him, it felt massive.
This was his first match in proper club colors. The first step onto the grass as something more than a schoolboy with a dream.
The first time he'd face the crowd and not just his ghosts.
---
The game was against Bengaluru FC U18 — a strong team with national youth call-ups and a reputation for tight, aggressive play.
Arjun jogged to midfield, adjusting his armband. He wasn't captain yet — but today, Sameer had handed it to him anyway. "You need to grow into this," he'd said before kick-off. "So start now."
From across the pitch, he spotted a familiar face: Faizan. Bengaluru had signed him after the trial. Apparently, he'd impressed another scout.
Faizan met his gaze and smirked.
"Didn't take long, huh?" Arjun muttered to himself.
---
The whistle blew.
The first ten minutes were chaos — high pressing, long balls, physical challenges. Bengaluru dominated early possession. Arjun struggled to find space. Every time he touched the ball, two players rushed him.
"Wake up, Arjun!" Coach Sameer shouted.
He blinked the fog out of his eyes.
> "Focus. Listen. The ball has a rhythm."
He remembered a dream. His past self running in a packed European stadium. The sound of fans chanting in languages he didn't know. The weight of pressure.
And the silence when he failed.
Not this time.
---
The turning point came in the 19th minute.
Arjun stole the ball at midfield, danced past one, then another, and released a pinpoint through-pass into space. Roshan — ever reliable — took it in stride and chipped the keeper.
1–0.
The crowd erupted. Not massive, but loud enough to echo in Arjun's bones.
He didn't celebrate.
He pointed to the sky. Then looked into the stands — and there, among the spectators, was Amma.
Tears in her eyes. Both hands clasped like she was in prayer.
Next to her, to his utter shock, stood Kalyani.
Hair tied in a ponytail, hoodie over her head, smiling like she knew something he didn't.
> "Why is she here again?"
His heart beat faster.
---
In the second half, Bengaluru responded with fury.
Faizan moved deeper, hunting Arjun in every possession.
"You think this is your story?" Faizan whispered after a tackle. "You're just a lucky street kid."
Arjun didn't answer.
In the 68th minute, Faizan slid in late, catching Arjun's ankle.
Pain shot up his leg. Not broken — but badly bruised.
He dropped to his knees, gasping.
The stadium went silent for a moment.
Then…
A whistle. Yellow card.
Coach signaled to sub him off.
But Arjun shook his head.
"No. I stay."
He stood up. Limped for a second. Then forced himself into a jog.
Pain is fuel. Pain is fire.
---
In the 85th minute, with the score still 1–0, Arjun found the ball at his feet again.
He juked past one defender, stepped into open space, and unleashed a curling strike from 25 yards.
The ball flew.
Time slowed.
It hit the underside of the bar.
And bounced in.
Goal.
2–0.
The roar this time felt like a storm.
He dropped to his knees, staring at the floodlights.
Flashes of his dream again. The stadium. The lights. The failure.
But this time, the ball went in.
This time, he had changed the ending.
---
After the match, as the team huddled, Coach Sameer clapped him on the back.
"You were born for this."
Arjun just nodded. He didn't know how to explain what he was feeling. That tonight wasn't just about winning a game — it was about silencing the past.
---
Outside the stadium, as fans and families dispersed, Kalyani waited near the gate.
"You okay?" she asked, noticing the limp.
"I've been worse," he replied, grinning despite himself.
"You know, you play like you've done this all before."
He paused.
"Sometimes... it feels like I have."
She tilted her head. "Is that why you never celebrate?"
He looked at her.
"Because I'm not done yet."
---