Ken ran his fingers through his hair, panic bubbling just beneath the surface.
"I'm in big trouble, I'm in big trouble… what am I going to say?" He muttered to himself, dread hanging heavy on his shoulders. The adrenaline from the match had faded, leaving only fear in its wake.
He hadn't even realized how much time had passed till he got home.
"Be brave, Ken," Precious said gently, trying to comfort him.
Her voice was soft, but the worry in her eyes betrayed her calm tone. "Nothing is going to happen". She reassured. "Just explain to them; you went to represent Elepe community in a football tournament. I'm sure they'll understand".
She gave him a quick hug, hesitated for a second as if she wanted to say more, then turned. "I have to go now. My mum will be waiting for me too. I'll see you another time".
As Ken walked toward his house, each step felt heavier than the last. His heart pounded like a war drum. He didn't even need to open the door to know what was waiting on the other side.
The raised voices of his parents leaked out into the compound.
"Where's he? Can't you talk? Where did he go?" His father roared.
Ken felt his heart beating faster.
"He… he went to play football," Ngozi finally admitted, her voice trembling. "He went to represent Elepe in a tournament".
"Football? Again?" Their mother cried, her voice rising with a blend of frustration and heartbreak. "After everything we've said?"
Ken knocked, hesitating only for a moment. When the door opened, his parents stood there; eyes wide, lips drawn tight. He stood before them in his jersey, sweat-soaked and dust-streaked from the match.
"You were at the match, weren't you?" His father barked, fury written across his face.
"Dad, I can explain…," Ken began.
"How many times have we warned you? Do you want to ruin your future?" His father cut in, voice raised, hands clenched.
"Daddy, please," Ken said, barely able to speak through the lump in his throat.
"You disobeyed us again, Ken!" His mother added, her voice cracking, eyes filling with tears.
In the next moment, his father stormed forward, grabbing the whip kept near the doorway. It struck across Ken's back with a sharp crack. Pains shot through him as he cried out in a muffled voice. His mother tried to intervene.
"It's ok dear, it's ok," she pleaded, trying to stop him.
"Don't tell me it's okay!" His father roared. "You're the one always pampering them! If the boy ends up a failure, it'll be your fault!"
He was breathing hard now, eyes dark with a storm of emotion.
"I'm taking drastic action this time".
Before Ken could grasp what he meant, his father snatched up his jersey and cleats, marched to the backyard, and headed for the small fire pit. Ken followed, his legs weak beneath him.
"Dad, please don't," he begged, voice raw with desperation. "Those are my only cleats. I need them".
"You should've thought about that before disobeying us".
The jerseys went first. The flames devoured them eagerly; then came the cleats. His father paused, just for a second.
"Dad, please! I'll stop playing, I swear. Just don't burn them!"
But the plea fell on deaf ears. The cleats dropped into the fire, curling and blackening in the flames. The rubber melted as the scent of scorched leather and burnt dreams filled the air.
That night, Ken cried himself to sleep. The sting on his back was nothing compared to the pain in his chest.
His dream, his one true passion felt like it had gone up in smoke with those cleats.
The next morning brought little relief. Saturday sunlight spilled into the living room, where Ken overhead voices. Mr. Chibuzor, a longtime friend of his father had stopped by.
"Good morning, Chinedu," the man greeted. "It's been a while".
"Good to see you again," Ken's father replied warmly. "How's the family?"
"All well, thank God. But I heard some disturbing news yesterday. There was a big fight at the Ikorodu Local Government Stadium after a football match, several people ended up in the hospital".
Ken's father sat forward, eyebrows raised. "A fight?"
"Yes. Apparently, it got out of hand. That's why I don't like those street tournaments".
"Exactly!" Chinedu said, his voice rising with conviction. "That's the very reason I don't want Ken playing football. These matches are dangerous, they're nothing but trouble".
"I know Ken loves football," Mr. Chibuzor added, "but he has to think about his future. He needs to focus on passing his JAMB".
"You see why I'm being hard on him?" Chinedu asked. "I want him to be a doctor, not some street boy chasing danger and illusions".
Later that morning, Chinedu summoned Ken into the living room. The boy stepped in quietly, his head bowed.
"Ken," his father said, voice stern but fatigued. "Do you understand why I did what I did? That fight yesterday is proof of how dangerous this thing is. I won't risk your life for it".
"But football is my passion, Dad," Ken said softly, eyes glistening.
"I know," Chinedu replied, his tone softening slightly. "But your future is more important to me. I want you to pass your exams. I want you to become somebody. Promise me you won't play again".
There was a long silence. Then, with tears in his eyes, Ken nodded. "I promise".
"Good," his father exhaled slowly. "I'm only doing this because I love you".
The rest of the day passed in silence. Ken tried to read, but his thoughts refused to cooperate. His mind returned again and again to the game, the cheers, the fire. Every time he blinked, he saw the flames.
That evening, as the sky turned a pale orange, there was a knock on his door.
"Ken?" Ngozi's voice was soft.
"Yeah," he replied.
She entered, hesitating a moment before sitting on the edge of the bed.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I didn't mean to get you into trouble".
"You didn't," Ken said. "I knew what I was doing".
"But you love football so much," she said, tears threatening in her eyes.
"I do. But Dad doesn't get it," he sighed. "He thinks it's just a distraction".
"Maybe he'll come around someday".
Ken shook his head. "He won't. He already decided who I'm supposed to be. A doctor".
Ngozi sat with him in silence for a while, the air heavy with unspoken thoughts. That night, Ken stared at the ceiling, haunted by everything he had lost.
The field, the cheers, the dreams; they all felt so far away now.
And in their place was a future that wasn't his.
A future he didn't want.