The Football Legends System-Chapter 45: Between Heart and Field

Chapter 45 - Between Heart and Field

Later That Evening

They sat across from each other in a quiet Italian place off Deansgate, the kind of spot with wine-stained menus and candlelight that flickered with every laugh.

Conversation flowed like it had always been waiting for this moment.

She asked about the match—not the tactics or the drama—but what it felt like.

"To score and still lose..." she said. "What’s that like?"

Nathan leaned back, thinking.

"It’s like punching through a wall only to realize there’s another one behind it. And then another. And you just keep swinging."

Lauren nodded, scribbling invisible notes on her napkin with her finger. "Sounds exhausting."

"It is," he said. "But it’s also why I love it."

Then he turned the questions back on her.

Why journalism?

Why football?

Why the café?

She told him she grew up watching her older brothers play, and she fell in love with the stories behind the goals. The look on a striker’s face when he missed.

Nathan laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Maybe it’s because, for the first time... I don’t want to dribble or shoot. I just want to talk."

That earned a grin.

"You’re good at it," she said.

He shrugged. "Only when it’s not with cameras in my face."

—

Rain Again

When they left the restaurant, the rain had returned.

Of course it had.

Thin sheets falling from the dark sky like silk.

They didn’t run. Didn’t cover their heads.

Lauren looked up and closed her eyes for a second, like she needed to feel something real.

Nathan just watched her.

"You know," she said, walking beside him, "you don’t have to be a lion all the time."

"I know," he said. "But if I’m not, people start asking what’s wrong."

"Well," she replied, brushing wet strands of hair from her cheek, "let them wonder."

They reached the corner where they’d part ways.

For a second, neither moved.

Then Lauren nodded, stepping back.

"Goodnight, Nathan Perry."

"Goodnight, Lauren Hayes."

And just like that, she turned, walking off into the soft rain, her hoodie pulled up but still soaked through.

Nathan stood there for a moment longer, his hands in his pockets, his shoulders hunched slightly—but not from the cold.

He looked up.

The streetlights blurred against the misty air. The puddles shimmered under his feet.

He smiled. ƒrēewebnoѵёl.cσm

Just a little.

—

Later That Night

His phone buzzed.

A message from Bruno.

"Tomorrow. Training. No sulking. No excuses."

Nathan stared at it for a moment.

Then another message came through.

"And bring that fire back, golden boy. We’re not done yet."

He smirked.

Then opened a new tab on his phone.

Typed:

"Manchester United: The Awakening?"

He stared at the headline.

Lauren’s article.

It wasn’t up yet.

But he could already hear her voice in it.

He closed his eyes.

-----------------------------

Carrington – Three Days Later

The rain had passed. At least for now.

Morning light slanted through the tall windows of the Carrington training complex, gleaming off freshly cut grass. The pitch smelled of earth and dew, the kind of scent that made players crave the ball at their feet.

Nathan stood at the sideline, stretching silently. His breath steady. His mind quiet.

No noise. No clutter.

Just the game.

Valverde jogged past, slapped him on the back.

"You’re moving like a man who’s just returned from a spiritual retreat," he said, grinning.

Nathan cracked a smile. "Feels like something shifted."

"Oh?" Valverde smirked. "Do tell."

"I’m calmer," Nathan said, tying the laces of his right boot tight. "Like... I have a new reason to give it my all."

Valverde raised a brow.

Then: "What’s her name?"

Nathan shook his head, chuckling under his breath.

"Her name’s none of your business," he said.

Valverde laughed, long and loud. "Ay dios... I knew it! That explains the ’zen striker’ aura you’re radiating."

But Nathan didn’t deny it.

He just stepped onto the pitch.

And when the whistle blew to begin the morning drills...

He was everywhere.

—

Tup-tup! Tap! Whoosh!

Footwork drills?

Shooting reps? Left, right, chest control—BOOM!!—top corner, again and again.

Tactical scrims? He pressed, passed like an artist, finished.

Even Bruno stopped mid-drill to stare. "Oi... Nathan, you on something?"

Valverde smirked. "He’s on love."

"Piss off," Nathan muttered, but he was smiling. Genuinely.

Amorim, watching from the sideline, scribbled in his notes without looking up.

"Keep this rhythm, Perry," the coach called. "Cup match tomorrow. Let’s see if calmness scores goals."

—

That Night – Online Chaos

Nathan’s phone buzzed non-stop as he lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.

The headlines were spreading fast.

"Nathan Perry spotted with mystery girl—rumors swirl of relationship with football journalist Lauren Hayes."

"Manchester United star distracted ahead of cup clash?"

"Romance or recklessness? Is Perry still focused on football?"

Tch.

He turned the screen face-down on his nightstand.

They didn’t know her.

And they damn sure didn’t know him.

—

Match Day – Manchester United vs Newcastle United

Carabao Cup – Quarterfinal

The buzz in Old Trafford was different.

Not just tense. Hopeful.

The kind of feeling that hadn’t fully existed in years.

Nathan.

He glanced toward the stands.

There.

Third tier. Just above the United crest banners.

Lauren.

Wool coat. Notepad in her lap. Eyes searching—until they found him.

He gave a quick wave. Nothing dramatic.

Just enough.

She smiled.

He stepped onto the pitch.

And the noise swelled like a wave.

BOOM!!

Kickoff.

[Random Skill Acquired: Griezmann executed a left-footed dribble.]

—

1st Minute –

Newcastle came in hard. Pressing. Chopping down angles.

But United were ready.

Valverde dropped in beside Casemiro and set the tone early with a crunching tackle—THUD!—that had the crowd roaring.

Nathan played wide left, drifting into half-spaces, reading the rhythm.

Calm.

Breathe.

No rush.

—

12th Minute

Bruno received it in the middle, turned—one touch, two—and threaded it forward.

Valverde timed his run beautifully. Burst through midfield—Tch! Tup!

Nathan was already moving.

Valverde didn’t hesitate. A no-look pass slid between the centre-backs l.

Whsshk!

Nathan caught it in stride. Defender on his right shoulder. Keeper closing fast.

He chopped left—TAP!—the defender stumbled.

Then—BOOM!!

Left foot. Far post. Net bulged.

GOAL!!!

Old Trafford erupted.

Nathan stood still, facing the crowd. No celebration. No theatrics.

Just a single point upward—toward the third tier.

And a faint smile.

Lauren saw it.

—

Later – Full-time: Manchester United 2 – Newcastle United 0

It wasn’t just a win.

Nathan scored one goal, and he never stopped moving, never stopped pressing. tracked back when needed, and orchestrated with quiet brilliance.

When the whistle blew, he exhaled deeply. Hands on hips. Chest rising and falling.

Behind the dugout, Amorim approached slowly, arms folded.

"Well played," the coach said, voice low and even. "But..."

Nathan turned, towel around his neck.

Amorim looked him in the eye. "Make sure your heart doesn’t pull you away from the game."

Nathan didn’t flinch.

Instead, he smiled—cool and certain.

"It’s what makes me play with everything I’ve got."

Amorim paused. Then nodded once. "Good answer. Now prove it—again."