I didn’t drive away. I couldn’t. I sat there, my car idling on the side of the street, watching the bus pull away, my heart pounding in my chest like a drum.
The girl was gone, a phantom in the morning light, but the image of her, and the strange, pure white aura that surrounded her, was burned into my mind.
I was late for training, a fact that would surely get a few angry glares from Coach Chivu, but I didn’t care.
I pulled my car over, got out, and started walking back down the street, my eyes scanning the road, my mind racing.
Was she a player? An athlete of so kind? The questions were a frantic jumble in my head, a puzzle with a missing piece.
I was about to give up when I saw her. She was a block down, getting off the bus, a look of focused concentration on her face. She was walking with a determined stride, her phone still in her hand. My heart leaped into my throat. This was my chance. I couldn’t let her get away.
I started jogging, my leg brace forgotten, my body fueled by a new, more personal kind of adrenaline.
I caught up to her just as she was about to turn a corner. "Excuse !" I called out, my voice a little breathless.
She stopped and turned, her dark eyes eting mine with a confused, slightly annoyed expression. "Can I help you?" she asked, her voice a soft, lodic sound that sent a shiver down my spine.
I was a world-class athlete, a professional footballer with a "Vision" that could see the future of the ga, but right now, I was a nervous, stamring idiot.
"Uh... hi. I’m... I’m Leon."
She looked at , a blank expression on her face. It was clear she had no idea who I was.
And for so reason, that felt... good. Refreshing.
"Okay. Hi, Leon. Is there sothing I can do for you?" she asked, a small, impatient sigh escaping her lips. She was late for sothing, and I was holding her up.
"I know this is going to sound weird," I started, "but I saw you from my car, and... I just had to talk to you. I saw sothing... about you. A kind of... light. I’ve never seen anything like it before."
She just stared at , a confused frown on her face. "A light? Are you okay? Did you hit your head?"
I laughed, a small, nervous laugh. "No, I’m fine. It’s... it’s a long story. I’m a footballer for Inter, and I have this ability... it’s hard to explain. But with you... there were no numbers. Just this... pure white light. It’s the first ti I’ve ever seen anything like it."
She looked at , a slow, understanding smile spreading across her face. "You’re a fan of fantasy novels, aren’t you? That’s a very creative pick-up line. You must get a lot of numbers with that one."
My face flushed with embarrassnt. "No! I’m serious! It’s real! I’m Leon, from Inter Milan! I scored in the Champions League quarter-final last night!"
She looked at for a long mont, a playful, skeptical look in her eyes, and then a small, mischievous grin spread across her face.
"Right. And I’m the Queen of England. Listen, I’m late for work. If you’re going to try to get my number, you’re going to have to do better than that."
My mind, once so focused on football, was now completely consud by this girl.
Her beauty, her wit, her calm dismissal of my crazy story. I knew I had to try again.
"Okay. Okay," I said, a genuine smile on my face. "You’re right. That was a bad approach. I’m sorry. Can we start over? I’m Leon. And I’d really like to get to know you. No weird stories, no weird ’Vision.’ Just... ."
She looked at , a thoughtful expression on her face, and then she laughed. A beautiful, genuine laugh that made my heart sing. "Okay, Leon. You’re cute. I’m Elena. And I guess I can spare a few minutes."
We walked and talked for what felt like an hour, but was probably only ten minutes. I told her about my passion for football, my injury, and my crazy journey back to the pitch.
She told about her job as a graphic designer, her love for art, and her dream of one day opening her own gallery. She didn’t talk about football, or the news, or anything related to my world. And it was the most refreshing conversation I had ever had.
Before I knew it, we had reached a cafe, her workplace. "Well, this is ," she said, a small, sad smile on her face. "It was nice eting you, Leon."
I knew this was my last chance. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone, my heart pounding in my ears. "Elena... can I... can I get your number? I’d really like to continue this conversation."
She looked at for a long mont, and then a small, genuine smile spread across her face. "Okay, Leon. You’ve earned it."
We exchanged numbers, and as she walked into the cafe, I felt a sense of pure joy. I had a new contact, a new connection, a new mystery to solve.
I got back in my car, a huge, genuine grin on my face, and drove to the training facility, my leg brace forgotten, my mind filled with a new kind of energy.
I arrived at the training facility a half hour late, but I was so happy I didn’t care. Coach Chivu was standing in the middle of the field, his arms crossed, a stern look on his face. He saw , and a small, begrudging smile spread across his face.
"Leon," he said, his voice a low growl. "You’re late. But you look like you just won the lottery. What happened?"
"I... I t a girl, coach," I said, a small, sheepish grin on my face.
He just shook his head, a mix of amusent and frustration on his face. "Alright. Go get dressed. We have a lot of work to do."
I ran to the locker room, a new sense of purpose filling . The team was already on the field, running drills, and I joined them, my movents crisp, my mind sharp.
My Vision was on fire, a constant, humming presence in my mind, and I felt stronger, faster, and more focused than I had in months.
After the drills, Coach Chivu called us all into a huddle. "n," he said, his voice low and serious. "I know we had a tough loss last night. But we showed heart. We showed character. And we have to keep that fire burning. The league is a different beast. We are in second place, just a point behind Napoli. And our next match... is a must-win. Against Fiorentina."
A collective groan went through the team. Fiorentina was a tough team, a scrappy, hard-working team that was always a difficult opponent. But a must-win was a must-win.
"I know," Coach Chivu said, a grim look on his face. "But we have to win this. We have to show them that we are not a team that gives up. We have to win this for our fans, for our city, for ourselves. This is our mont. This is our chance."
The practice was intense, a blur of drills, tactics, and a new kind of focused determination.
I used my Vision on my teammates, seeing their stats, their small evolutions, their slow but steady growth.
- After 5 days
The match against Fiorentina was a tense, back-and-forth affair. It was a gritty, physical ga, a far cry from the free-flowing beauty of the Barcelona match.
The ga was heading for a draw, a frustrating, heartbreaking result that would cost us precious points in the league race.
I was on the bench, my legs feeling a little wobbly from the intense training.
I saw my teammates on the field, their bodies tired, their minds weary, but they were still fighting. I saw the symbols of the Fiorentina players, their movents predictable, their patterns a familiar rhythm. And I saw a single, beautiful opportunity.
I ran to Coach Chivu, my heart pounding. "Coach! I see it! I see an opening! Put in!" I yelled, my voice a frantic, desperate plea.
He looked at , a hesitant, concerned look on his face. "Leon, your leg... it’s too soon."
"I know," I said, a determined look on my face. "But I can do this. I see it. I see the winning goal. Just put in for ten minutes. That’s all I need."
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