Kaiden - A Place I Never Really Left.

Monday morning dawned crisp and clear, the kind of cold that woke every nerve. The Old Mill stood by the river as if it had been waiting for me—its stone walls softened by ivy, timber beams worn with time, window boxes overflowing with colour.

I crossed the small bridge and stepped inside, my pulse doing a strange, uneven kick.

The lobby was exactly as I remembered, just… fuller somehow. Vintage furnishings. Dark wood panelling. The soft crackle of the stone fireplace warmed the edges of the room. Ambient light glowed through the space, catching the polished surfaces.

The smell—fresh flowers, old paper, warm wood—settled into my chest with an ache I hadn’t expected.

“Kaiden, welcome back!”

I turned just in time to see Mrs Whitaker standing by the reception desk—petite, silver-streaked hair in a perfect bun, eyes bright with a kindness that always felt a little disarming. And sharpness. She had that too.

“It’s good to have you here,” she said, voice warm enough to pull something loose in my ribs. “We’ve missed having you around.”

I blinked, taken aback. “Thank you. It’s… good to be back.”

I hadn’t expected anyone to say they missed me. Not here. Not after all the years I spent pretending Eldermoor was just a stopover in my life rather than a place that had actually shaped me.

Two familiar faces popped out from behind the counter. Emma and Lucas. They’d been working here even when we were all technically too young to be serving anyone anything stronger than hot chocolate. Eldermoor was that kind of place—rules bending like old tree branches, the memories sweeter because of it.

“Kaiden! Is that really you?” Emma’s freckles caught the light as she beamed. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

Lucas grinned widely. “Man, it’s good to see you back. Eldermoor hasn’t been the same without you.”

A flush crept up my neck—pride, disbelief, maybe even gratitude. They remembered me. After everything. After the years I spent trying to blend into cities that never felt like mine.

Their recognition hit harder than I thought it would.

“Yeah,” I said, trying to keep my voice even. “Feels like I never really left.”

Mrs Whitaker clapped her hands with her usual soft authority. “Let’s get you started. We’re counting on you to bring some fresh energy in here.”

As the morning steadied into its routine, she led me into a small sunlit office tucked behind the lobby. Shelves lined the space—ledgers, files, decades of stories bound in dust jackets and leather.

My tasks were simple: paperwork, updating contracts, and familiarising myself with everything I’d once known like the back of my hand.

My phone buzzed on the desk.

Nathaniel: Practice Wednesday

Typical. No location. No context. Just Nathaniel.

Parking in Eldermoor was a disaster I had conveniently forgotten about. After circling twice, I finally squeezed into a spot and jogged toward the fields, tightening my laces mid-stride. It wasn’t until I hit the rows of players—clusters of them spread over new turf, the club buzzing after renovations—that I realised Nathaniel hadn’t bothered to tell me where practice actually was.

Then I saw her.

She stood at the edge of the field, sunlight catching strands of her blond hair, her posture relaxed, but her gaze razor-sharp. She spotted me instantly and walked over like she already owned the space.

“Saving your energy for the field, huh?” she teased, a smirk tugging at her mouth. I blinked, thrown off balance. “Uh… yeah. Something like that.”

A flicker of amusement crossed her eyes as she stepped in closer—close enough that a piece of her hair brushed my shoulder. Jasmine and wild orange drifted past me, sharp enough to drag up memories of Italy I’d tried to bury.

“You’re new,” she says, as she has already decided that.

“Returning,” I correct, watching the way she moves—loose, comfortable, like she belongs here.

She doesn’t ask where from.

“Well, welcome back.” She glances toward the field, then back at me. “If you want your epic comeback, start by winning your first game.

I studied her, trying to place her, the confidence, the sharp edges, the way she took up space without forcing it.

Like it had already been given to her.

“Just the first?” I said. “I’m planning to win them all. Might even take on The Golden Boy.”

She laughed—an actual snort, quick and unfiltered. “Don’t go breaking the ceiling too fast. Eldermoor keeps even the best humble.”

And then she jogged off, leaving me with a pull in my chest I didn’t have a name for. Confident. Easy. The kind of presence that fills space without asking.

I catch myself watching her, measuring something I don’t name.

She had to be Nathaniel’s girl.

Is this what he chose? Or what he settled into?

Still… somewhere in me, a stupid part hoped I was wrong.

It would make things easier.

--- I barely notice the ball until it— Something smacks into the back of my head.

“Oi! Stop creeping on the women, you city pervert!” Markus shouts, laughing before I even turn around.

Jay joins in, Leo adding something I don’t catch over the noise. Same old. Same volume.

I rub the back of my head, already grinning. “Funny coming from you, Mr. Alpha Male.” It lands. They laugh.

But it’s off. My eyes flick past them. Nathaniel isn’t looking at me.

He stands a step away from the group, adjusting his captain band with slow precision, smoothing it down, then doing it again, like it shifted when it didn’t.

He doesn’t laugh, doesn’t react. Just… fixes it, as if that matters more.

They circle me—Markus, Leo, a few others—grins wide and relentlessly. “Saw you pull up with that slick rental,” Markus says. “Thought you’d have learned to drive by now.”

Leo folds his arms. “Maybe it’s not the parking. Maybe you’re just too busy losing city girls to keep your hands on the wheel.”

I smirk. “At least I’m putting some miles on it.”

Their laughter rolls through the field—teasing, familiar, weirdly grounding. They’re sizing me up, sure, but there’s something welcoming under it. Like the spot I left behind is still mine.

Coach finally steps in, whistle around his neck. “Alright, new guy. Real test is on the field, not behind the wheel. And trust me—no one here is impressed by shiny cars.” “Good,” I say, the old fire lighting up. “I’m not here to sit on the sidelines.”

The drills hit fast—sprints, passes, rapid-fire footwork. My lungs burn, muscles screaming, but every movement settles something inside me. Soccer isn’t a hobby; it’s oxygen. The rhythm quiets the noise in my head.

After practice, the locker room feels unfamiliar—too polished, too renovated, like time moved on without asking. The wood gleams under bright lights, a reminder of everything that changed while I was busy pretending I didn’t miss this place. After the showers, Markus, Leo, and Jay linger as the others filter out. Leo hooks his fingers through my bag straps.

“Good to have you back,” he says, grin warm and real. “After the game—drinks on Saturday. Don’t bail.”

“It’s a date,” I reply, clapping their shoulders before heading out.

I make my way toward the clubhouse to check transfer papers and catch up on everything I missed—everything I told myself didn’t matter until coming back proved it did.

❤️ Maliyka ❤️