Chapter 88– Calm Before the Storm and Lens I
The city felt different, not louder or busier. Just… watching in the way people infatuated with the beautiful game do.
Kweku noticed it the moment he stepped out onto the street.
Marseille had always been alive—cars, voices, music spilling from open windows—but now there was something underneath it all.
People recognized him now, not everyone but enough to make his regular routines slightly awkward.
A nod from a passerby.
A second look from someone across the road.
A whisper, "C'est lui…"
He kept his head down and tried not to let it affect him because he had to focus.
The table didn't lie, with three matches left and Europe on the line and the current change of his role in the team he wasn't just part of the squad, he mattered.
--
The next morning, training was sharper than usual.
Short passes snapped quicker, challenges came harder even the jokes were shorter.
Coach didn't raise his voice, he didn't need to since everyone knew what was at stake.
"Three finals left to play," he said simply.
That was it. No tactics board, no long speech. Just truth.
Kweku felt it in every drill.
When he received the ball, he turned quicker. When he ran, he ran harder. And when he shot, he didn't take the extra touch anymore.
That part was gone now, burned out of him. He was at the top of his game.
---
After training, he went home only to meet Camille at his door.
"Walk with me",she said firmly with her hands tucked into her jacket, eyes calm as always.
---
Kweku hesitated for half a second then nodded. They walked without direction
Through streets that dipped and climbed.
Past cafés buzzing with evening life.
"You're thinking too much again," she said suddenly.
"I'm not," Kweku replied.
She glanced at him with am amused look.
"You always say that when you are."
He let out a small breath, "…It's different now."
"How, it's still your first professional season. You're allowed to make mistakes y'know?"
"Yeah but now they expect something."
Camille stopped walking, "So?"
Kweku frowned slightly, "So… I can't mess it up."
She tilted her head staring at him, "You think they didn't expect anything before?"
He didn't answer. Because he hadn't thought about it like that.
"They always expect," she continued.
"But now you see it."
ilence settled between them again.
Then she smiled slightly. "Good."
Kweku blinked. "Good?"
"It means you're where you're supposed to be."
"What does that even mean?"
Camille just laughed in response and continued walking.
After spending the afternoon with Camille, he got back home and studied for a bit. That night he couldn't sleep, not fully at least. So he did what he always did when his thoughts got too loud. He called home. It rang once.
Then— "Hello?" His mother's voice through.
"Maa."
"Kweku! Ei—look at you, calling me late like this, I thought you have to sleep early to get the needed rest," she laughed softly. "Are you okay?"
I'm fine."
A pause. Then she spoke, "I saw your last match."
He smiled faintly.
"…What did you think?"
"You're getting closer."
Not praise. Not excitement. Just truth.
And somehow that meant more.
"They're saying big things about you here," she added.
"Your uncle won't stop talking."
Kweku chuckled under his breath.
"They always talk."
"Hmm," she hummed knowingly.
"But listen to me."
His expression shifted.
"Don't play for them, play your game."
"…I will."
"I know, you've always been a mature child.," she replied.
The two spoke for nearly an hour before ending the call.
---
Soon it was matchday. The sky was clear. Too clear. Like the world was pretending nothing was at stake.
Kweku arrived early. Earlier than usual. He laced his boots slowly and carefully. In the silent hum of the dressing room. Players trickled in one by one, some louder than others but all focused.
Kweku leaned back against his locker with his eyes closed. He could already see it.
The pitch. The runs. The moments.
And this time there was no hesitation in them. Not in his mind and definitely not on the field.
----
The whistle blew and the noise didn't rise. It was already there. Constant. Heavy.
The Stade Bollaert-Delelis didn't wait for the game to begin.
It demanded something from it.
Marseille tried to play.
They really did.
Two passes across the back.
A third into midfield.
Then—Pressure.
RC Lens collapsed forward as one.
Not fast. Not reckless. Perfectly timed.
Kondogbia received.
Turned, then met a body already there.
Another closing in.
He forced it wide to Kweku.
The ball reached him.
And for a split second space. Then it hit.
Przemysław Frankowski tight. A second defender shading inside to block the turn
Kweku felt it instantly.
No space. No angle. No time.
One touch back then move.
---
"Mensah immediately crowded out—Lens are not letting him play at all!"
It's the same tactic again.
---
The first chance came early and it came suddenly. A loose touch in midfield, that's all it took.
Lens didn't build, they struck.
The ball was won cleanly by Nampalys Mendy.
Who rushed forward immediately without hesitation.
Then played a vertical pass that split two lines at once.
Kweku turned his head but he was too late. Elye Wahi was already moving.
Not sprinting.
Gliding but timing it perfectly against the line.
The pass arrived just ahead of him.
He took one touch and he was through.
Everything slowed in that moment
Kweku stopped running forward to watch.
Wahi pushed the ball slightly to the right opening his body to set up the shot.
The angle narrowing.
Defender chasing but not close enough.
He struck it low across goal and for a moment it looked perfect.
Then a hand arrived down low.
Pau López.
He didn't dive early.
He waited then exploded, he got a palm to ball and managed to deflect it wide.
The stadium reacted like a goal had been scored then stolen away.
---
"WHAT A SAVE! Pau López keeps Marseille alive!"
---
Kweku exhaled slowly. They were still in it.