The roar of the crowd filled the stadium, a deafening chorus that echoed through the air. The pounding rhythm of thousands of voices matched the rapid beat of Arya's heart. His feet danced lightly across the lush green field, the ball glued to his every touch as if it were part of him. Every dribble, every feint left defenders stumbling, unable to keep up.
"GOOOAAALL!"
The ball soared into the top corner of the net, out of the goalkeeper's reach. Arya's name exploded from every direction, rising with the thunder of applause and the shrill blast of the final whistle. Top scorer of the national junior high school tournament.The next big hope for Indonesia's national team. Cameras chased his sweat-drenched but beaming face, capturing the moment of his triumph.
But amid the euphoria, his eyes locked onto a single spot in the stands—a pair of eyes watching him silently. No claps, no cheers. Just a cold, piercing gaze that weighed heavier than any pressure he'd ever felt.
Then suddenly—
"Arya! Wake up!"
The voice shattered everything. The cheers vanished. The stadium faded into nothingness. Arya jolted awake, gasping for air, his forehead damp with cold sweat. The bright sunlight pierced through the large windows of his dormitory classroom, casting harsh lines on the spotless whiteboard. The deafening crowd was gone, replaced by the dull hum of restless students and the sharp, irritated voice of the teacher.
"If you want to sleep, do it in your dorm, Arya!" the teacher snapped, her glare sharp as a blade, triggering quiet snickers from his classmates.
Arya rubbed his face, trying to shake off the vivid dream. But what he couldn't shake was the emptiness lingering in his chest—a familiar ache. The same dream, over and over again. A memory he couldn't outrun.
A memory of a boy once destined to be a football star, until everything was crushed by a single word: "No"