DAHLIA 

Apprehension slowly crept to my chest, from the pit of my stomach as my eyes viewing the names of the players settled on a familiar one. 

W. Redford.

No, it couldn’t be. Even as I denied it, there was a part of me who knew I’d be able to point him out in a crowd, despite the muscular development.

No, it couldn’t be, I disagreed with myself again. It didn’t matter that he had the same sandy blonde curls, possessed those slightly bowed legs that had been naturally sculpted to play soccer. 

The side profile never changed, not one bit. 

That ‘W’ could be any name, right? 

It might...