Emma sat in the technical area, right beside the coach. The whistle blew, signaling the end of the first half. Jayden's team was still scoreless, while the opposing team had just found the back of the net.
The team trudged back to the bench, and the coach's frustration was palpable.
"Jayden! What the hell was that?!" the coach barked, tossing a sweat-soaked towel at him. "You had a clear shot, and you hesitated! Alex was wide open, why didn't you pass? Instead, you stood there like a statue and let them steal the ball!"
"You're supposed to read the game, anticipate the move! That's not hesitation; that's amateur hour!" he continued, pacing in front of the bench. "This is your moment, take it! Don't let fear decide for you!"
From the other side, one of Jayden's teammates couldn't resist a jab. "Suddenly, Red Bottoms is around, and you're playing like a pussy," he muttered, smirking.
Jayden's hands immediately gripped the guy's collar, but the other players quickly pulled him back.
"Excuse me, coach. I... I need the restroom," Jayden muttered, storming off toward the tunnel, trying to collect himself.
The second half was about to start, and Jayden had returned from his restroom break.
"Coach... I think the team would be better off without me this half," Jayden muttered, his forehead resting in his palm.
"What?" Emma asked, staring at him, concern etched across her face.
"I just... I can't," he admitted quietly.
"You're the best player on this team, Jayden. Everyone knows it," the coach barked, stepping closer. "The moment that whistle blows, you get out there and give it everything. I don't care what's going on in your head, you leave all that off the pitch. Understand?"
Jayden lifted his head and gave a slow nod.
Emma gently grabbed his hand, pulling him to the back of the bench area. "Jayden... I didn't come all the way to Spain to watch you give up," she whispered.
"I know your dad said hurtful things. I know it brought back some of your childhood trauma," she continued, her voice soft but firm. "But this is your moment. Prove him wrong. Show him why he should have supported you. Show him how far you've come."
Jayden took a deep breath and nodded again. Emma wrapped her arms around him, pulling him in for a hug.
The second half had been a grueling battle. The opposing team had already scored a goal from the first half, and the United Blues were trailing. Jayden ran tirelessly across the field, his eyes scanning for an opening.
"Can they turn this around?" the commentator shouted, voice tense. "They're down by one, and there's barely a minute left on the clock!"
Suddenly, Jayden found a gap near the edge of the box. With a swift touch, he maneuvered past the defender and struck the ball toward the top corner of the net. Goal!
"Unbelievable! Jayden levels the score with just one minute remaining! What a play! The Blues have hope, but the clock is their enemy now!"
The stadium exploded with cheering, fans jumping to their feet. The players could feel the tension, there was no time left.
The referee's whistle blew: 90 minutes are up. The game would now be decided by a penalty shootout.
Both teams lined up, and the tension was palpable.
"First to score wins," the commentator explained.
"This is the moment of truth, the entire match comes down to penalty kicks!"
The first player stepped up, ball at the spot.
The goalkeeper crouched, eyes locked on the ball. A deep breath, a quick run-up, and... goal. The stadium roared, but the Blues weren't done yet.
Alex, Jayden's teammate, walked up confidently. He took a steady breath, eyes fixed on the goal, and struck the ball. Goal! The scores were now tied, and the pressure was mounting.
The next two players went back and forth... One scores, one scores, the tension in the stadium palpable. Emma gripped her seat at the technical area, heart pounding, her hands twisting in anticipation.
Finally, it was Jayden's turn. Every eye in the stadium seemed to be on him. He stepped up, feeling the weight of his team, his coach, and even his own unresolved anger and pain.
"Calm down... breathe," he whispered to himself.
He placed the ball carefully on the spot, took a few steps back, and stared at the goalkeeper. The silence was deafening. He ran up, striking the ball with precision, and it soared into the top corner of the net. Goal!
The opposing team's next kicker stepped up, legs trembling. He shot... and missed. The ball hit the post and bounced away. The stadium erupted.
Jayden's teammates stormed the pitch, lifting him into the air.
The commentators' voices boomed over the speakers:
"What a turnaround! Jayden delivers in the clutch, and the United Blues are through to the semi-finals!"
Jayden didn't wait for the press, the cameras, or the post-match celebrations. As soon as he'd changed in the locker room, he slipped out the back door, the same one Emma and Ben had used earlier.
Emma was already waiting in the car, her smile widening when she spotted him. Jayden opened the door, but before he could slide in, a familiar voice called out.
"Jayden."
He turned to see his coach, tablet in hand, brows furrowed.
"You okay?" the coach asked.
"I'm heading to the hotel. Just... need to rest." Jayden's voice was flat, tired.
The coach's eyes shifted to Emma sitting quietly in the back seat. "You know the rules about bringing women in the rooms during game season..."
"I'll see you at the press briefing around eight," Jayden cut him off, climbing into the car. His tone left no room for argument.
Ben started the engine, pulling them away from the stadium. For a moment, the car was silent, only the low hum of the tires on asphalt. Then Jayden exhaled, long and heavy, before speaking.
"When I told you my dad neglected us... I wasn't totally honest," he began, his gaze fixed out the window. "He was abusive. And I still don't know how my mom stayed with him for almost twenty years before she finally realized enough was enough."
Emma's chest tightened. She shifted slightly closer, listening.
"He'd hit my mom. My sister. Me. Anyone who was there. I got old enough, and he added me to the list of his punching bags. Jojo was just two when one night, he came home furious because dinner wasn't warm. Warm," Jayden said bitterly, shaking his head. "He'd spent hours at the bar before coming home, but that didn't matter. Mom had been tending to Jojo, she had a fever and when he saw the food cold on the table, he snapped. He started hitting her. We all knew if he hadn't wasted those hours drinking, the food would've been fine. But try telling him that."
His voice cracked as he went on. "In the struggle, Mom tripped near the stairs. She was holding Jojo, and Jojo's head hit the stair rail. She still has the scar, right above her hairline. You'd see it if you pushed her curls back."
Emma's hand slowly found his, squeezing.
"Should I tell you about when Jayda came home pregnant? He nearly killed her. Or how he'd slap Jojo... a three-year-old, Emma because she dropped a glass or made a mistake. Or how he'd beat me whenever he came home early and found I'd been out playing football. Football was the one thing that made me feel alive, and he made me pay for it."
Jayden's voice hardened, almost a growl. "And yet, my mom still thought he could change. Every time. He'd blame the alcohol, apologize when he was sober, swear he'd quit. But it wasn't the alcohol, Emma. That was just his excuse. The truth is, he knew exactly what he was doing. He enjoyed the control."
He paused, staring at the passing streetlights, his jaw tight.
"One day, after he had gone for work, Mom packed what little she could. She shoved us into the old Sienna and drove away. That was it. We never went back. She'd been saving in secret, just enough to get us a tiny apartment across town. She worked two, sometimes three jobs, just to keep food on the table. And when I was old enough, I worked too, anything to make sure my siblings didn't go hungry."
A tear slipped down his cheek, and he quickly wiped it away. "By nineteen, I'd saved enough to move us into a better place. Away from him. Away from everything he did to us. It wasn't perfect, but at least it was ours."
He finally turned to Emma, his eyes wet and weary. "I hate that childhood. But... I'm grateful too. Without it, maybe I wouldn't be here. Maybe I wouldn't have fought this hard."
Emma didn't try to fix his pain. She knew some wounds weren't meant to be patched with words. Instead, she leaned her head against his shoulder and whispered, "You're fine now. You made it out. And you're not him, Jayden. You never will be."
He let out a shaky breath, closing his eyes, and for the first time that night, he allowed himself to lean on her.