Julian stood in the doorway, his hands hovering in the empty space between us. A plastic water bottle dangled from his left grip.

"Evie?" he asked again. "What's wrong? You look pale."

"Don't touch me," I said.

His smile faltered. He lowered his arms, the plastic bottle crinkling under his tightening grip. "I just wanted to see if you were okay. You took a nasty hit out there. Everyone was worried."

"I'm fine. Back up."

I turned away from him and faced Adrian. The fog in my head was lifting, replaced by a sharp, cold clarity.

"Adrian," I said, my voice steady. "Tell me the exact date. Today."

Adrian wiped a bead of sweat from his temple. "May 18, 2023." He tilted his head, studying my face. "Are you sure you're okay? Did that soccer ball knock you silly?"

*2023.*

My heart hammered against my ribs. I wasn't in a hospital. I wasn't bleeding out on a highway in 2026. I was exactly three years in the past.

I just joined the team staff a week ago. Today was the intra-squad scrimmage. I walked too close to the sideline, a stray ball nailed me in the temple, and I blacked out.

"I have some painkillers in my bag," Julian offered, stepping closer again. He reached out, trying to place a hand on my shoulder. "And extra water. I can bring them to your desk every day until you feel better."

I slapped his hand away. The smack echoed loudly off the metal lockers.

Julian flinched, his eyes wide with shock. "Hey! I'm just trying to help."

My stomach churned.

That was his playbook. The daily water bottles. The painkillers. The constant, hovering attention. He played the devoted caretaker until I confused his manipulation with love. He made me feel indebted to him.

"Keep your medicine," I snapped. "And stay away from my desk."

Julian blinked, his mouth falling open. "Evie, what is your problem? We're friends."

"We aren't anything," I said.

I shifted my gaze downward. Past Julian. Straight to Adrian's feet.

His right ankle.

It was perfect. The skin above his cleats was smooth, unbroken by the jagged surgical scars that would ruin his career in a few months. Right now, Adrian was the undisputed star of the club. The golden boy. He moved with a natural grace that coaches drooled over.

Julian was the eternal runner-up. The shadow.

"He's fine, Julian," Adrian interjected, his deep voice bouncing off the rusted lockers. "Give her some space. She just woke up."

Julian's jaw hardened. He shot Adrian a venomous glare before masking it with a forced chuckle. "I'm just looking out for our new staff member. No need to bark orders, superstar."

I remembered the night Adrian's career ended. An "accidental" tackle during practice. Tendons torn. Bones fractured. I had cried for Adrian, mourning the loss of such brilliant talent.

Julian had held me on the couch, stroking my hair. *With him gone, you can finally see me clearly,* he had whispered.

Back then, I thought it was just petty jealousy. A poor choice of words from a frustrated athlete.

Now, staring at Julian's resentful eyes, the truth hit me like a physical blow. He did it on purpose. He destroyed a man's life just to move up one spot on the roster.

"Julian," I said, my tone dropping to a whisper.

"Yeah, Evie?" he asked, his voice dripping with fake innocence.

"What happens if Adrian disappears?"

Julian froze. The color drained from his cheeks. "What?"

"Will I see you more clearly then?" I asked.

He took a step back, his cleats scraping harshly against the linoleum. "I don't know what you're talking about. You're not making sense."

"You hate playing second string," I pushed, taking a step toward him. "You hate watching him score while you ride the bench."

"Shut up," Julian hissed, glancing nervously at Adrian. "You're concussed."

"Get out," I commanded.

"Evie, you need a doctor—"

"I said get out!" I shouted, pointing at the heavy metal door. "Before I call security."

Julian flinched. His chest heaved as he stared at me, searching my eyes for any sign of a joke. Finding none, he spun around and marched out. The door slammed shut, rattling the hinges.

Silence settled over the locker room. The flickering fluorescent light buzzed above us.

Adrian crossed his arms, his biceps straining against the thin fabric of his jersey. "What was that about?"

"Nothing you need to worry about," I said.

"You just chased off the friendliest guy on the team."

"He's a snake," I countered. "And you need to watch your back around him."

Adrian let out a short, dry laugh. "I'll keep that in mind. Now, do you want me to walk you to the nurse's office or not?"

"I don't need a nurse." I closed the distance between us, stopping just a foot away from him. "Let me be your agent."

Adrian stared at me. His dark eyes widened, and he dropped his arms to his sides. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Fire your current representation. Let me manage your career."

"You?" He pointed a finger at my chest. "You just joined the operations staff. You organize travel logs and hand out practice bibs."

"I can do a lot more than that."

"You don't have a license. You don't have contacts."

"I know the game better than anyone in this building," I said, holding his gaze. "I know exactly how much you're worth, and I know your current agent is settling for terrible endorsement deals because he's too lazy to negotiate."

Adrian's brow furrowed. "How do you know about my endorsements?"

"Your agent just signed you to a four-year deal with Apex Cleats," I said, pulling the memory from my past life. "They restrict your ankle mobility. You hate them. You complained about the stiffness during practice yesterday, but he told you to suck it up because the upfront payout was huge."

Adrian's mouth pressed into a thin line. "Who told you that?"

"Nobody told me. I pay attention." I stepped closer, forcing him to look down at me. "I will make you the brightest soccer star in this league. Trust me."

Adrian shook his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You're crazy. The ball really did do some damage."

"The Federal Cup is starting soon," I pushed on, refusing to back down. "It's the biggest tournament of the year. Scouts from every major European club will be watching."

"I know what the Cup is."

"Then you know this is your window," I said. "I will make sure you play your best on the field. I'll handle the noise. I'll handle the press. I'll keep leeches like Julian out of your way."

Adrian shifted his weight. His smirk faded, replaced by a calculating stare. "And what do you get out of this?"

"Ten percent," I said without missing a beat. "And the satisfaction of watching you leave this mediocre club behind."

He rubbed his chin. "You're serious."

"Dead serious."

"Give me one good reason why I should trust a rookie assistant with my entire future."

"Because I already know what happens if you don't," I said. "You stay here. You play in cheap cleats. You get tackled by a teammate who hates your guts, and you spend the rest of your life walking with a limp."

Adrian narrowed his eyes. The buzzing of the overhead light seemed to grow louder. He studied my face, searching for a crack in my confidence.

"You talk like you can see the future," he muttered.

"Maybe I can."

"Fine," Adrian said, his voice dropping an octave. "Prove it."

"Tomorrow's practice," I replied instantly. "Coach is going to run the new offensive drill. He's going to put Julian on the left wing, and he expects you to feed him the ball."

"That's standard play."

"Julian will drop the pass," I said. "Three times. Coach will get mad, blame you for bad passing, and bench you for the second half of the scrimmage."

Adrian scoffed. "Coach loves me. He wouldn't bench me over a dropped pass."

"Julian will make it look like your fault. He's good at that. Don't pass to him. Take the shot yourself."

"That's a selfish play," Adrian argued.

"It's a winning play. Do it, and when Coach praises your initiative, you'll know I'm right."

Adrian uncrossed his arms, leaning in slightly. "And if you're wrong?"

"Then I'll pack up my desk and quit."

A heavy pause hung between us. Adrian looked at the locker room door, then back to me.

"Alright, Evie," he said. "Let's see if you're as smart as you think you are."

"I brought these for you," Julian said.

He dropped a bouquet of cheap red roses on my keyboard. A plastic bottle of painkillers rattled as he set it next to my mouse.

"Take them back," I told him.

"Evie, come on. The team doctor said you need rest and meds."

"I'm not taking anything from you. Clear my desk."

He leaned his palms on the edge of my cubicle, invading my space. "Why are you acting like this? I'm just trying to take care of you. You know I care about you."

"You care about yourself."

"That's not fair," he whined, his voice pitching up. "I bought those flowers with my last twenty bucks. I wanted to make you smile."

I swept my arm across the desk. The roses and the pill bottle tumbled into the plastic trash bin with a hollow thud.

Julian stared at the garbage can. His jaw clamped shut.

"Get out," I said.

"You're being ridiculous," he snapped.

"I'm working. Leave."

He spun on his heel and marched out of the staff room.

Chloe stepped out from behind the doorframe a second later. She clutched the strap of her canvas tote bag, her eyes darting toward the hallway where Julian had just disappeared.

"Why are you so mean to him?" she asked.

"How long were you standing there?"

"Long enough. He's gorgeous, Evie. And his footwork during yesterday's scrimmage was amazing. He really likes you."

"Do you need me to introduce you?" I asked.

Chloe waved her hands frantically, her cheeks flushing pink. "No! I would never date a guy who is chasing you. That’s totally unfair."

A sharp phantom ache spiked in my chest. The memory of crushing metal and shattering glass flashed behind my eyes. I gripped the armrests of my chair until my knuckles turned stark white.

*You never treat me like Evelyn does.*

The ghost of his voice rang in my ears.

"Right," I said. "Unfair."

"Anyway," Chloe continued, shifting her weight. "I actually came to ask a favor. I need a job. I'm totally broke, and my landlord is threatening to kick me out."

"You want to work for the team."

"I'll do anything. Laundry, organizing equipment, running errands. I just need a paycheck."

I studied her eager face. The same face that had betrayed me in my past life. Back then, I gave her an easy administrative role. I covered her mistakes. I handed her a career.

This time, I had a better plan.

"Julian needs an assistant," I said. "You can manage his gear and schedule."

Chloe’s eyes widened. "Really? You'd let me work with him?"

"Why not?" I forced a bright, naive smile. "I'm actually considering his pursuit. I might give him a chance. It would be nice to have my best friend keeping an eye on him for me."

A muscle jumped in Chloe's cheek. Her smile turned rigid, the corners of her mouth straining downward. Jealousy burned clear and bright in her pupils.

"Wow," she muttered. "I won't let you down."

"I know you won't."

I turned back to my monitor, dismissing her. Chloe lingered for a moment before shuffling out of the room.

I grabbed a stack of papers from my drawer and headed down to the field.

The stadium was empty except for one figure.

I found Adrian by the bleachers. He wiped sweat from his forehead with a gray towel.

I shoved a thick manila folder against his chest.

He grabbed it before it hit the turf. "What's this?"

"Your new training plan. I mapped out your drills for the next three weeks."

He flipped open the cover. His eyes scanned the printed charts. "This is double the conditioning Coach gave me. Where did you get this?"

"I wrote it." I snatched his empty water bottle from the bench and handed him a full sports drink from my cooler. "And I'm handling your schedule from now on. Your old assistant is reassigned."

Adrian took a long gulp. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "You're putting in a lot of unpaid overtime for a rookie."

"I told you I'm going to be your agent. This is step one."

"Step one is torturing me with extra sprints?"

"Step one is making sure your stamina lasts through the final twenty minutes of a match," I corrected. "You always lag in the fourth quarter. These drills will fix that."

He tossed the folder onto his duffel bag. "You know who my dad is, right?"

"Should I?"

"My father is the head of the national football committee."

My mouth dropped open. I stared at him, rapidly searching my memories. In my past life, Adrian never mentioned his family. Julian certainly never knew. If Julian had known Adrian was the committee head's son, he never would have dared to break his ankle.

"Your dad runs the committee?" I asked.

Adrian leaned against the metal railing. A smirk played on his lips. "You really didn't know."

"No. I had no idea."

"Then why are you doing all this?" He took a step closer, towering over my frame. "Are you just doing this because you like me?"

"Don't flatter yourself." I crossed my arms. "You have raw talent. You're the best player on this turf. I'm not going to sit back and watch you throw away your dream."

"My dream?"

"You want to play in Europe," I said. "You want to win the World Cup. You can't do that if you're lazy."

Adrian stared down at me. The smirk melted away, leaving an unreadable intensity in his dark eyes. The stadium lights reflected in his gaze.

"What if I said I kind of like you?" he whispered.