The morning of the fourteenth day arrived with a strange stillness. The streets of the town were quiet, as though they knew something important was about to happen. Marcus woke before dawn, his stomach tight and his thoughts restless. He stood in front of the cracked mirror in his room, staring at his reflection. His eyes looked sharper, his body leaner, his spirit more alive than it had been in years.
But he also knew that today would decide everything. Coach Hammond's voice rang in his mind. Fourteen days, Marcus. Fourteen days to show me, to show yourself, that you belong here.
He grabbed his bag and stepped into the cool morning. The court where the test would take place was not far, but every step felt heavy. Along the way, he passed kids bouncing basketballs, men opening their shops, and women carrying baskets to the market. Life went on as usual, but Marcus felt like the world was holding its breath just for him.
At the court, Hammond was already there, leaning on his cane. He looked at Marcus with a steady gaze, neither soft nor harsh.
"You look ready," Hammond said simply.
"I am," Marcus replied, though his voice was tight.
Soon the rest of the team arrived. Some greeted him coldly, others with faint nods. The air was thick with judgment. They remembered his past—his drinking, his failures—and many were still unsure if he had truly changed.
Hammond raised his voice. "Today we see if Marcus stays with us. This is no charity. He must earn it."
A murmur rippled through the players. Some smirked, already expecting him to fail. Others crossed their arms, curious to see what he would do.
The challenge was simple but brutal: Marcus had to play a full scrimmage game against the younger, hungrier players, who were told not to hold back. Hammond wanted to see if Marcus could rise under pressure, if he could lead, and if he still had the fire.
The whistle blew, and the game began.
From the start, Marcus felt the sting of bodies slamming into him. The younger players tested him, shoving, blocking, and laughing in his face. One of them shouted, "You are too old, Marcus. Go back to your bottle!"
The words pierced him, but instead of breaking, they fueled him. He drove into the paint, rose higher than anyone expected, and slammed the ball through the hoop. The rim rattled, and the players froze for a moment.
That was the spark.
Marcus began to move with a rhythm that surprised even himself. He spun around defenders, hit mid-range shots, and threaded passes that sliced through the defense. Every play reminded him of the man he used to be, but also showed the man he was becoming.
Yet the younger players were relentless. They pressed him, doubled him, tried to wear him down. Sweat poured down his face, his chest burned, and his legs trembled. For a moment, doubt crept in. Could he last the whole game?
Then, from the edge of the court, he heard a voice.
"Come on, Marcus!"
He turned his head just long enough to see Lena standing there, her hands clasped, her eyes fixed on him. She had come despite everything, despite her parents and Adrian's shadow.
Something inside Marcus lit up. His lungs filled with new air, and he pushed harder. He stole a pass, sprinted down the court, and scored again. His teammates began to notice. They stopped doubting, stopped mocking, and started following his lead. His fire spread to them.
By the final minutes, the game was tied. Marcus held the ball, his heart pounding. The defense closed in on him, two players blocking his path. For a moment, it seemed impossible.
Then he faked left, spun right, and launched a shot just as the clock ticked down. The ball arched high, spinning through the air, and swished clean through the net.
The court erupted.
Hammond slammed his cane on the ground. "That," he roared, "is the Marcus I have been waiting for!"
Marcus bent over, panting, sweat dripping from his chin. His chest felt like it would burst, but his spirit soared. He had not only survived the fourteen days—he had conquered them.
As the players gathered, Hammond looked around. "This man stays. And if any of you still doubt him, let today remind you that talent may fade, but heart does not. Marcus has both."
Some players still frowned, but most clapped, some even smiling. Marcus had earned a place again.
But as the cheers echoed, Marcus's eyes found Lena. She was smiling, proud, but her smile faded quickly. Standing just behind her, leaning against a car with a smug grin, was Adrian.
He had returned. And he had seen everything.
Marcus's victory suddenly felt like the beginning of something much larger. The storm Hammond had spoken of was here, and Adrian was its center.