The Football Legends System-Chapter 52: A Moment Without Noise

Chapter 52 – A Moment Without Noise

The streets of Manchester were still damp, glistening under the orange glow of the old streetlamps. Rain had come and gone , leaving behind a chilled hush. No crowds now. No chants. No booming stadiums. Just the soft hum of traffic and the occasional rustle of wind through bare branches.

Nathan parked on the corner and stepped out of the car. He wore a simple black hoodie, no branding, no attention-grabbing details—just enough to disappear. For once, he didn’t want to be seen. Not by fans, not by reporters, not by anyone chasing the next headline.

Just by her.

He looked across the street.

The café was quiet—tucked into the corner . Warm light spilled through the windows, painting the pavement with gold. The kind of place you’d miss if you weren’t looking for it. But he was. He always had been.

She was already there.

Lauren.

She sat near the window, one hand curled around a mug, the other resting on the edge of the table. Her coat was a deep brown, simple, warm—like her. Her hair fell softly around her face, no makeup, no pretense.

Just her.

And when she saw him, she smiled.

The kind of smile that made the cold air disappear.

"Finally..." she called out through the glass as he stepped inside, voice teasing, but gentle. "The big star remembered us!"

Tch. Nathan chuckled, slipping off his hoodie as he walked to her.

"I never forgot you," he said, leaning down to kiss her cheek—just lightly, like they hadn’t seen each other in weeks, not years. "But the pressure’s been crazy."

She stood and took his hand. It was warm in hers.

"I know," she murmured, eyes scanning his face like she was studying him for the first time again. "You look older."

"Do I?" he said, sliding into the seat across from her.

"Yeah," she said, settling back into her chair. "Not just older—heavier. Not physically. Just... something in your eyes. Like you’ve been carrying too much."

Nathan didn’t respond at first. He looked around instead.

The café was quiet. Just a couple in the back whispering over shared dessert, and an old man reading a newspaper near the counter. A soft jazz tune played overhead, warm and loose, like a memory in motion.

"It’s weird," Nathan finally said, voice lower. "There’s always noise around me now. Even when it’s quiet, it’s still loud. Does that make sense?"

Lauren nodded. She didn’t rush him.

"Yeah," she said softly. "It does."

A waitress came by and poured him a coffee. He hadn’t asked for it. But Lauren had.

"Still black?" she asked with a grin.

"Always."

They sipped in silence for a moment. It wasn’t awkward—it was familiar.

"You remember," he said finally.

"Of course I do. I remember a lot of things."

Nathan laughed under his breath.

"Like what?"

"Like you always drank coffee at halftime even though the coaches told you not to. Said it made your legs jittery."

"It did," Nathan grinned. "But it made my brain sharper."

He looked down at his cup, swirling the liquid slowly.

"Now I’m here," he said. "And it’s... everything. But also not what I thought."

Lauren tilted her head.

"What do you mean?"

Nathan leaned back in his chair, eyes drifting to the window. freeweɓnovel.cøm

The reflection of the city moved like a painting in the glass.

"I feel like I’m flying sometimes," he said. "The cheers, the lights, scoring goals that kids will watch on highlight reels forever. That goal tonight—it felt like the world stopped."

The image of the ball leaving his foot flashed in his mind. The triple feint. The crowd roaring. The pass to Antony. The stadium shaking.

"But other times..." he said, softer now. "I feel lost. Everyone wants something. The media wants a soundbite. The fans want a miracle. The coaches want perfection. And I—"

He paused.

Lauren was listening, really listening.

"I don’t know what I want half the time," he admitted. "But when I’m with you..."

His voice caught, just for a beat.

"I feel normal."

Lauren didn’t flinch. She reached across the table, fingers threading through his.

"I was afraid," she whispered. "That you’d get lost in all this. The glory. The lights. That you’d forget who you were. That you’d forget you’re still human."

Her eyes were steady. Warm, but never fragile.

"But you haven’t," she added. "Not really."

Nathan met her gaze.

There it was again. That grounding force. That invisible thread pulling him back from the edge.

"Are you happy?" she asked then. No hesitation. No smile this time.

"Not as a player," she clarified. "As Nathan."

He didn’t answer immediately.

He looked away.

Outside, a car passed, headlights washing over the glass. Time moved, the world spun—but here, in this café, everything was still.

"I’m learning to be," he said quietly. "I thought happiness would come with the contract. With the armband. With the goals. But they’re just... moments."

He tightened his grip on her hand.

"You? You’re not a moment. You’re real."

Lauren smiled again.

"If you ever feel lost again," she said, voice barely above a whisper, "I’m here. Always."

Nathan’s heart thudded once. Deep. Slow.

Thud.

"I’m lucky," he said, leaning in, forehead nearly touching hers across the table.

"Luckier than any goal I ever scored."

—

The rain came slow at first—soft, almost hesitant—like it was waiting for permission to fall. The city shimmered under the amber glow of streetlights, reflections rippling in puddles along the pavement. Distant headlights cut through the drizzle. Manchester after dark. Quiet, moody, beautiful.

Nathan stepped out of the café and turned his collar up. The scent of rain mixed with the warmth of roasted coffee still clinging to his jacket. Beside him, Lauren pulled her brown coat tighter around her and laughed softly as a droplet landed squarely on her nose.

"You’re cursed," she teased, brushing the rain from her cheeks. "Every time you finally get free time, the weather files a complaint."

Nathan looked at her, eyes bright beneath the shadows of the falling rain. "Guess we’ll have to make the complaint irrelevant."

They walked.

No destination. Just the moment.

The streets of Manchester stretched quiet in front of them—wet cobblestones, the distant hum of a tram, the occasional flicker of a late-night pub still clinging to its final customers. But for them, the world had folded in. Just two people. One night.

Lauren swung her arms gently, shoes clicking on the wet path. "I missed this," she said, her voice mellow. "Not just you. This. Walking nowhere. Talking nonsense. Feeling... normal."

Nathan smiled at that word.

Normal.

There were nights now—under stadium lights, when he felt like he was floating above the pitch, unreal. A name more than a person. But here, walking under soft rain with her, his feet touched the ground again.

"I saw the highlight clip today," she said suddenly, nudging his shoulder. "The backheel assist. The commentators went insane."

Nathan chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah. One of them called me ’Ronaldo back from the dead.’"

She rolled her eyes, laughing. "You always loved the drama."

"Tch. Come on," he grinned. "If I don’t make it cinematic, what’s the point?"

A pause, then she added, slyly, "If you keep playing every three days like this... I’ll have to move next to the stadium."

"Oh, absolutely," Nathan shot back.

They both laughed, their voices echoing softly through the damp night air.

The conversation flowed with ease— Lauren talked about her university life—how her flatmate talked in her sleep, how she once submitted the wrong essay to the wrong professor and somehow still passed.

Nathan listened. Every laugh felt earned. Every silence between them, warm.

But then, as they reached a quiet intersection, the mood shifted—gentle, not jarring.

Lauren looked at him, eyes steady. "Are you happy?"

Nathan blinked.

He looked up toward the cloudy sky, rain tapping softly against his cheeks.

"I don’t know," he admitted. "Sometimes I feel like I’m flying... other times, I feel like I’m just falling slowly"

Lauren smiled, eyes misty but clear. "If you ever feel lost again," she said, her voice barely louder than the rain, "I’m here. Always."

Nathan didn’t speak. He didn’t have to.

Instead, he reached out and held her hand—firm, warm, grounding.

The walk continued, slower now. The city had fallen into a deeper hush, the occasional car whispering by on wet roads. They eventually reached her car, parked under a tilted tree near the curb.

The windows were slightly fogged.

The rain kept falling.

Lauren leaned against the door and looked at him, arms folded. "You’ve got a long road ahead, huh? League. Champions League. Cups. And now you’ve got a million eyes on you."

"I’m ready," he said. "And I won’t let anything pull me away from you again. If you ever feel like I’ve forgotten you, even for a second, just say something. Even if I’m in the middle of a match."

"I love you," he whispered in her ear.

The moment lingered.

Then the car door opened with a soft click, breaking the spell gently. Lauren slid inside, the interior light catching the small smile on her face before the door closed again—slowly.

Nathan stood still.

The car’s taillights glowed faint red through the mist. . A soft wave from the driver’s side window. Then she was gone.

Nathan stood beneath the clouds, soaked but unmoved. His breath came slow, steady. He tilted his head up, let the rain fall freely against his skin, eyes closed.

Haaah...