Greya's POV...

"Earth to Grey!" Ari's voice snaps me out of my thoughts. One brow is arched, her hands on her hips.

"We have a game in thirty minutes and your head's somewhere else."

"I know, I'm sorry," I reply, finishing tying my cleats.

"I've just... got a lot on my mind."

"Girl, the only thing that should be on your mind is how you're going to wow the UCLA scout. Whether you have an offer or not, that's all that matters right now."

I manage a believable smile. If only she believed the real distractions in my life. Between taking care of my ninety-year-old grandmother and my ten-year-old brother, dreams like a soccer scholarship feel impossibly far away. But I wouldn't trade them for anything. Chase and Grams are my world.

I pull on my warm-up jacket and grab a ball, letting the familiar weight settle in my hands. On the field, for ninety minutes, I get to escape. Everything that worries me—the responsibilities, the past, the uncertainty—falls away when the ball is at my feet. For those moments, I'm free.

"Finish up, girls! Coach wants warm-ups in five," Ari shouts.

She's stepped up as team captain this year, and I'm grateful. I'm not the type to lead. Soccer is my sanctuary, not my platform.

The stadium is packed, everyone buzzing about the scout. I take to the field, letting myself enjoy the moment. That's when I see Chase in the stands, waving frantically.

"Chase! What are you doing here?" I ask, jogging over.

"I wanted to watch! Please, Grey!" His excitement is contagious.

I glance at Fynn, who just shrugs with a smile. "I couldn't say no."

I scoop Chase into a hug. "Good luck hug first." He squeezes tight. "You've got this, Greya. Tell Ari I said good luck too!"

I wave at Ari, who grins and blows kisses back to Chase. This kid... he doesn't need sight to enjoy life. He reminds me every day that what matters isn't what you see, but how you live.

Coach calls us in for the huddle. I close my eyes for a moment, grounding myself, clearing my head. When we shout our cheer and take the field, everything else falls away.

The game starts rough—we're down 1-0 within the first ten minutes. Ari passes me the ball after the PK, and I see my opening. I split the defense and sprint, the goal in sight. In my head, it's just me and the ball. I execute the move I've practiced a thousand times—rolling the ball with my toe, flicking it over the goalkeeper. The net ripples, the crowd erupts, and for a moment, I feel untouchable.

My teammates rush me, hugging and high-fiving, and Ari beams. "That's teamwork, Grey. Your goal wouldn't have happened without me!" I grin back, knowing she deserves the credit too.

I glance toward the bleachers. Chase is clapping, beaming, and I point at him. That goal was for him.

Then I see Becker. He's sitting off to the side, calm, collected, but our eyes meet. There's a subtle nod and a small smile—a private acknowledgment in the chaos. I return it with a tiny wave. That's enough. That's all we need sometimes.

We finish 3-1. I scored two, Ari one. Chase runs to me after the game, full of energy, and I let him take a ball onto the field to shoot at the net. He lines it up perfectly and scores, then Becker steps in, quietly retrieves the ball, and compliments him. "Nice shot, kid." Chase grins like he just won the World Cup.

I call him back toward the bench. "Time to go home, little man." Fynn scoops him up, and I thank him for bringing Chase.

Ari rushes over, practically vibrating with excitement. "The scout wants to talk to you now!"

I nod, feeling the weight of responsibility settle back onto my shoulders. My ninety minutes of freedom is over.

The scout approaches, professional and encouraging. "That was a great performance. You've exceeded my expectations."

"Thank you," I say softly. I know what comes next.

"We're prepared to help you in any way. We want you on the team. Full scholarship. Even if you need to take a GAP year, your offer will stand."

I nod again. The offer is tempting, but impossible. I glance back at the field where Becker has scored another goal. He smiles, fleeting and rare, and searches the stands as if expecting someone who isn't there. That smile fades, and I wonder what he carries in those moments that no one sees.

For a moment, our eyes meet again. I give him the tiniest wave and a subtle smile, the kind only he would notice. A private acknowledgment in a world that demands facades.

Then I turn, shake off the lingering thoughts, and head to the locker room. Reality calls: Chase needs sleep, Grams needs care, and tonight, there's a party at Becker's house I can't back out from. Life never pauses. But for those ninety minutes on the field, I had control. I had freedom. And sometimes, that's enough.