Small fame

The world seemed to tilt on its axis as Amani stared at the glowing screen of Kristen's phone. His own face, grinning broadly alongside the formidable Coach Jan Wouters, stared back at him from the official FC Utrecht Twitter feed.

The bold text proclaimed his professional contract, his startling statistics from those few Eredivisie appearances laid out for all to see: three goals, six assists. It was one thing to sign the papers in the quiet solemnity of the boardroom, another entirely to see it broadcast to the world, condensed into a burst of digital characters and a carefully chosen photograph.

A wave of heat washed over him, a mixture of pride so potent it was almost dizzying, and a sudden, sharp stab of anxiety that made his stomach clench. This was it. No turning back. The world knew.