Ethan returned home to a quiet house and the familiar gray skies of an English winter. The excitement of the tournament, the sun in Spain, and the buzz of the England camp faded quickly. He was left in the silence of his own bedroom with two significant realities.
The England shirt, signed by the squad, hung over his chair. The West Bromwich Albion letter, which he had pulled from his desk drawer, lay on his bed.
The tournament didn't just delay the decision; it made it clearer. The 1-1 draw with Spain, created by a single perfect pass, showed that his brain was quick enough. The 1-0 loss to Germany, a tough 90-minute battle, proved that his body was strong enough. The fear of not belonging at that elite level vanished, replaced by a deep desire for more.
He had a few days left in the winter break before Crestwood training started again. The time had come.
He sat at the kitchen table with his mom, the letter between them. The air was thick with unspoken words. "So," his mom said, her hands around a mug of tea. "You've been to their academy. You've played against the best in Europe. What does your heart say, Ethan?"
He stared at the letter. "My heart... it's a mess, Mum," he said quietly. "Crestwood... that's my home. It's Callum and Mason. We're at the top of the league. We're finally playing like the team we were always meant to be. Leaving feels like I'm betraying them."
"And what does your head say?" she asked, her gaze steady.
He took a deep breath. "My head says this is the chance. The facilities... they were like something from TV. The coaches and the path they've laid out... Mark said they see me in the first team in three years. Three years." He looked at his mom, his eyes full of the heavy, exciting weight of it all. "Spain and Germany... that's the level I want to play at every week, not just twice a year. I'm not sure I can get there if I stay."
"This is the part of the dream they don't show you, love," his mom said softly. "It's not just about the goals and trophies. It's about choices. Hard ones. There is no right or wrong answer here. You can stay, win the league with your friends, and another offer might come. Or you can go, take the chance that's in front of you... but you'll be leaving a lot behind."
Ethan was silent. He thought of Mason's hard-earned respect, his loyal presence that had pushed Ethan to be tougher. He thought of Callum's ambition, his goals, and their broken but now-repaired friendship. Leaving them felt like abandoning part of himself.
Then, he pictured the German midfielder's cynical tackle and the roar of his teammates after his pass against Spain. He remembered the West Brom scout's words: "We believe in you."
Ambition and loyalty pulled him in opposite directions, tearing him apart. "What if I fail?" he whispered. "What if I go there and I'm just another kid in their system, and I'm not good enough?"
"And what if you stay," his mom gently countered, "and you spend the rest of your life wondering 'what if'?"
That was the question. It cut through all the noise. The fear of failure was real, but the fear of regret felt worse. He had shown himself that he could compete. Now he had to prove he had the courage to take the next step.
He looked up, his expression shifting with a resolve that hadn't been there moments before. The choice was made. "I'm going to do it," he said firmly. "I have to."
His mom held his gaze for a long moment, her eyes shining with both pride and sadness. She understood what this meant. Her son was leaving home. "Okay," she said, her voice thick with emotion as she reached across the table to take his hand. "Okay. Then we'd better call them."