The clinking of cutlery and the soft murmur of conversation filled the small apartment as the trio sat around the dinner table.
The warmth of the room contrasted with the bitter cold outside, and for a moment, it felt like just another quiet evening.
Mia was halfway through a story about a classmate who had embarrassed himself in front of the entire school when the doorbell rang.
The sudden chime made all three of them pause.
Leo and Mia exchanged glances before turning to their aunt. They had no visitors. Ever.
Leo and Mia kept to themselves, barely interacting with anyone outside of football and school. And Sofia? She was too busy working to entertain friends.
The doorbell rang again.
Sofia wiped her hands on a napkin before rising to her feet, her expression cautious. "Stay here," she murmured, moving toward the door.
Leo straightened slightly in his seat, muscles tensing out of instinct.
Mia, on the other hand, just looked curious, tilting her head as she whispered, "Who could that even be?"
Sofia peered through the peephole before unlocking the door and pulling it open just enough to see who stood on the other side.
Tall, broad-shouldered, with a sharp but weathered face, dressed in a heavy coat to fight off the cold.
He looked like someone used to braving the elements, his posture relaxed but firm, his hands tucked into his pockets.
"Good evening," he greeted with a polite nod. His voice was steady, carrying a slight northern accent. "Sofia Mendez?"
Sofia’s fingers twitched against the doorframe. "Who’s asking?"
The man offered a small smile. "Name’s Dawson. I’m an assistant coach at Wigan Athletic."
Leo’s breath hitched slightly. Wigan.
Sofia’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. "And?"
Dawson exhaled, glancing past her toward the interior of the apartment. He was searching for someone. And it didn’t take long for Sofia to realize exactly who.
"I’m here to talk about Leo."
Sofia hesitated for only a moment before stepping aside, allowing Dawson to enter.
He offered a polite nod of thanks as he stepped through the doorway, his presence immediately making the small apartment feel even smaller.
Leo had already stood from the table, his brows furrowed as he took in the sight of the man who had been watching him all week at training.
Mia, on the other hand, was still sitting, her eyes darting between Dawson and Sofia with a spark of curiosity.
Sofia closed the door and crossed her arms, nodding toward the living room. "Have a seat."
Dawson did, settling onto the worn-out couch while Leo cautiously sat across from him.
Sofia took a spot next to her nephew, leaning slightly forward, her green eyes sharp and analyzing.
Dawson let the silence linger for a moment before he finally spoke.
"I won’t waste your time, Leo. I’ve been watching you in training for the past week, and I see something in you.
You see the game differently. Those passes you try to pull off? Most lads in your team wouldn’t even dream of attempting them. But you’re missing one thing."
Leo swallowed, already knowing the answer. "Execution."
Dawson nodded. "Exactly. Your body can’t keep up with what your mind sees. But that can be fixed.
What you have—the vision, the awareness, the ability to create something out of nothing—that’s not something you can teach."
Leo’s heart pounded against his ribs, but he forced himself to stay composed.
He had spent his entire youth career being overlooked, bullied, and told he wasn’t good enough.
Now, here was a League One coach, sitting in his living room, telling him he had something special.
Dawson leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "You remind me of Michael Carrick."
Leo’s breath caught. Carrick. The former Manchester United midfielder, known for his intelligence, his passing, and his ability to control a game without breaking a sweat.
"He wasn’t the strongest, he wasn’t the fastest, but he saw things others didn’t. Just like you." Dawson’s eyes locked onto Leo’s. "That’s why I want you at Wigan Athletic. I want you to train with the first team. Competing for a spot."
Sofia’s fingers tapped against her knee. "League One?" she questioned. "You want him playing men’s football when he barely aged seventeen?"
Dawson turned to her. "I know it’s a big leap, but this is what he needs. He won’t grow playing academy football where his weaknesses are protected, and Man Utd don’t really have any plans of him experiencing first-team football. If he is serious about going pro, then he needs to struggle, to be pushed.
He’s not going to develop the physicality he needs if he stays comfortable."
Sofia wasn’t convinced just yet. "How do I know you’re not just selling him a dream?"
Dawson’s lips quirked upward. "Because I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t serious. I wouldn’t waste my time."
There was a brief silence. Leo could feel the tension in the air, but something else lingered underneath it.
The way Dawson and Sofia held eye contact for a second too long. The way she studied him, as if trying to read something beyond his words.
And the way Dawson’s mouth twitched, as if he was suppressing a smirk.
Leo exchanged a glance with Mia, who was already hiding a grin behind her cup of juice.
Oh, this was going to be fun.
Sofia, clearing her throat, broke the silence. "What happens next?"
Dawson leaned back, running a hand through his short-cropped hair.
"We’ll contact Manchester United officially. But since he doesn’t have a contract, it’s really up to him. If he wants this, he just has to say yes." He then turned to Leo, his gaze steady. "Take your time. Think about it. This isn’t a decision to make lightly."
Leo nodded, though his mind was already racing.
Dawson stood, buttoning up his coat. As he made his way to the door, Mia let out an exaggerated sigh.
"Wow, Sofía. Never seen you stare at a man like that before."
Sofia’s head snapped toward her niece. "Mia."
Leo smirked. "She’s right. If you stared at me like that, maybe I’d play better."
Sofia groaned, rubbing her temples, while Mia chuckled. "I like him," she said, nodding toward the man who had just left the room.