Chapter 4 The decision

Thomas closed the door quietly after Ariana left.

The apartment became silent again.

But her words refused to leave his head.

“You can still do it.”

He exhaled slowly and turned around.

Pizza boxes covered the floor beside scattered clothes and empty soda cans. The television still flickered faintly in the corner of the room, lighting the apartment in dull shades of blue.

Above it hung the old poster.

THE GREATEST ROOKIE BORN.

A younger Thomas smiled proudly in the picture, sliding across the pitch after scoring his first professional goal while thousands of fans celebrated behind him.

Below the poster sat the empty trophy cabinet.

Dust outlines marked the places where medals and silverware used to be.

Thomas stared at it for a while before looking away.

Five years ago, he used to love hearing people talk about him.

Now even remembering those days felt exhausting.

He dropped onto the couch and rubbed his face.

Outside, rain tapped softly against the apartment windows.

Eventually, exhaustion pulled him to sleep.

That night, Thomas dreamed about football again.

Not the scandal.

Not the drug tests.

Not the boos.

Football.

Bright stadium lights burned above him as tens of thousands of fans roared around the pitch.

His heartbeat thundered in his chest while he sprinted forward with the ball at his feet.

Everything felt fast.

Sharp.

Alive.

A defender lunged toward him.

Thomas shifted the ball past him effortlessly before firing a shot into the top corner.

The stadium exploded.

Fans screamed his name.

Teammates crashed into him laughing and shouting while cameras flashed around them.

“SIXTEEN YEARS OLD!”

“THOMAS OSBORNE IS UNBELIEVABLE!”

“THE FUTURE OF FOOTBALL HAS ARRIVED!”

Thomas laughed.

Actually laughed.

The feeling rushed through him like electricity.

The pressure.

The adrenaline.

The happiness.

For the first time in years—

football didn’t feel painful.

Then the dream faded.

The crowd disappeared.

The lights went dark.

And suddenly—

he was alone again.

Thomas woke slowly the next morning.

Sunlight leaked through the curtains, illuminating the apartment clearly for the first time in days.

The mess somehow looked worse in daylight.

Empty cans.

Wrappers.

Dirty laundry.

Dust.

He sat there silently before his eyes drifted toward the cabinet again.

Then the poster.

That smiling version of himself felt like another person now.

Thomas leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.

“…Let’s give it a go.”

The words came out quietly.

Almost uncertain.

But they were real.

The cleanup took the entire day.

Thomas filled trash bags one after another, clearing years of neglect from the apartment.

Pizza boxes disappeared first.

Then the empty soda cans.

Then stacks of junk food hidden inside cabinets and drawers.

He unplugged the old gaming console he spent countless nights using just to avoid thinking.

Pointless online purchases followed.

Cheap distractions.

Temporary happiness.

Things he bought whenever the silence became too loud.

By evening, the apartment finally looked different.

Not clean.

Not normal.

But livable.

Thomas stood in the middle of the room breathing heavily while staring around quietly.

For the first time in years, the apartment no longer felt like a prison.

Near the back of his closet sat an old storage box covered in dust.

Thomas hesitated before dragging it into the lounge.

For a moment, he simply stared at it.

Then slowly opened it.

Inside rested pieces of the life he abandoned.

Old football boots.

Training shirts.

Wrist tape.

A faded number 9 kit.

At the bottom sat the match ball from his first professional hat trick, signatures barely visible now from age.

Thomas picked it up carefully.

A strange ache formed in his chest.

Then he noticed something underneath.

A small unopened envelope.

Frowning slightly, he pulled it free.

How had he forgotten this?

Thomas opened it carefully.

Inside was a business card.

MANDLA KHUMALO

PLAYER REPRESENTATION & MANAGEMENT

Behind it rested a folded recommendation letter.

Thomas stared silently at the paper.

Mandla.

Even after the scandal…

Even after the ban…

His old friend still believed he could come back.

Thomas tightened his grip on the envelope.

Then—

Knock. Knock.

He looked toward the door.

Another knock echoed through the apartment.

Thomas slowly stood before walking toward the entrance.

When he opened the door—

Ariana stood there awkwardly, avoiding eye contact.

“You stopped ordering pizza.”

For the first time in years, Thomas smiled before he could stop himself.

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