Chapter 21: Echoes of the Climb
Chapter 21: Echoes of the Climb
The common room at the training ground buzzed with low chatter and the soft hiss of the kettle. No champagne, no press cameras—just mugs of tea, toast, and a bit of laughter. But for Crawley Town, it felt as good as any trophy celebration.
Two days had passed since the win at Weymouth, but the energy still lingered. Simons walked in late, hair damp from the shower, and flopped into the seat beside Luka with a grin.
"You see the replay? That first goal? Poetry."
Luka smirked, sipping from a chipped Crawley Town mug. "Your pass wasn't too bad either."
Across the room, McCulloch laughed. "You lot talk like we've just won the league."
"Nah," Jamal said quietly, leaning back in his chair, "we just didn't lose ourselves."
The room went still—not out of sadness, but something deeper. Recognition.
It wasn't just about the three points anymore. It was about momentum. About not falling apart after Milan stepped down. About not disappearing into the background.
They'd fought. They'd won. They still believed.
And Niels? He stood in the doorway, watching.