f*******n LOVE

THE FIRST GAME

Victoria stood still, staring at the football in her hands.

The leather was worn smooth from years of play, its once bright colours faded beneath countless scuffs and scratches. It looked nothing like the polished toys neatly arranged in the playroom back at Blackwood Manor.

Her eyes drifted to her white dress. Not a single crease. Then to her polished shoes, still gleaming despite the dusty road beneath her feet.

She swallowed. "I've..." she began, her voice barely above a whisper. "I've never played football before."

For a heartbeat, no one spoke. Every child turned to stare at her as if she'd just admitted she'd never seen the sun.

"You mean never?" one boy blurted.

"Not even once?" asked another.

Victoria gave a small shake of her head. A ripple of laughter spread through the group. It wasn't cruel, nor was it meant to embarrass her. They simply couldn't imagine a child who had never chased a football across the street.

Her cheeks warmed all the same. Before the laughter could linger, Lias stepped forward.

"Then today will be your first." His easy smile settled the awkwardness almost instantly. He placed the ball carefully on the ground.

"Watch me," he said. "Don't use your toes. Kick with the side of your foot." Victoria nodded, concentrating so hard that her brows knitted together. She copied the way he stood, lifted one foot and swung.

Nothing.

Her shoe sliced through empty air while the football remained exactly where it was. The children burst into laughter again. Victoria wished the ground would swallow her whole.

"S-sorry," she murmured, staring at her shoes. Lias laughed softly.

"Don't apologize. Everyone misses their first kick." He positioned the ball once more and demonstrated slowly. "Like this."

Victoria inhaled, steadied herself and tried again. This time her foot met the ball with a satisfying thud. It rolled several feet across the dusty road before wobbling to a stop.

For a second she simply stared. Then cheers erupted around her.

"You did it!"

"See?"

"I told you!"

A smile crept onto Victoria's face before she could stop it. Moments later she was laughing.

Not the gentle, rehearsed laugh expected during afternoon tea. A real laugh, Bright enough to surprise even herself.Something inside her seemed to loosen.

Soon she wasn't worrying about her spotless dress or polished shoes anymore. She ran after the football with everyone else.

She stumbled over a loose stone and landed in the dust. Instead of crying, she laughed.

The others helped her up before racing after the ball again. At one point she kicked it far harder than she intended.

The football flew through the air and landed neatly inside an elderly woman's basket of vegetables.

"Oh, you little troublemakers!" the woman called, pretending to glare at them. The children froze. Then she chuckled.

That was all the invitation they needed. They rushed to retrieve the ball while apologising over one another, and by the time they returned, every one of them was laughing including the old woman herself.

Hours slipped by unnoticed. The afternoon sun softened, painting the streets in warm shades of gold. Eventually the game came to an end.

Breathless and exhausted, the children wandered beneath the shade of a large mango tree and collapsed onto the grass.

Victoria leaned against the rough trunk.She had never felt so tired or so alive.

For a while no one spoke. Only the rustling leaves and distant birds filled the silence.

Lias broke it first. "So... where do you live, Victoria?"

She lifted a finger and pointed toward the hill overlooking the town. Above the trees stood Blackwood Manor. Even from this distance its towering windows caught the fading sunlight.

The children followed her finger. Their chatter disappeared. "That's..." one boy whispered. "The biggest house in town," another finished.

"No," a girl corrected. "The biggest house anywhere around here."

Someone turned back to Victoria. "So... you're rich?"

Victoria blinked. "I suppose so." The answer came without pride.Without shame.

Simply because she had never known anything different.The others exchanged uncertain glances.

Lias noticed it immediately. He smiled and shrugged. "So what? She's still Victoria."

The tension melted away. Conversation slowly returned, though a few curious glances still drifted toward the manor on the hill. Victoria looked up. The golden sky slowly melted into shades of orange. The sun was sinking.

Her smile vanished. "Oh no..."

She jumped to her feet. "I have to go!"

Before anyone could answer, she was already running. Her shoes pounded against the dirt road as she hurried toward the hill, Halfway there she slowed. Something tugged at her heart.

She turned around. Far behind her, Lias and the others were still standing beneath the mango tree, watching her leave. For a moment no one moved.

Victoria smiled. "Can I come again tomorrow?"

Lias grinned. Before he could answer, the children all spoke at once. "We'll be here!"

"We'll wait for you!" Their voices echoed through the evening air.

Victoria waved before turning and running the rest of the way home, her heart feeling strangely light. She didn't notice the streaks of mud across her dress or the dust in her tangled hair.

She only knew one thing, for the first time in her life...She couldn't wait for tomorrow.

Victoria slipped through the narrow gap in the old gate and hurried into the gardens behind Blackwood Manor.The evening breeze stirred the flowers lining the stone path, carrying with it the scent of roses and freshly cut grass. Everything looked exactly as it always had…perfect, orderly, untouched.Unlike her.

She glanced down at herself. Brown stains streaked the hem of her white dress. Dust clung stubbornly to her stockings, and her once-polished shoes were caked with dirt. She brushed at them with both hands, but all she managed to do was smear the mud even further.

"Oh, no..." She rubbed harder, panic creeping into her chest. A twig fell from her skirt. She quickly tossed it into a flower bed and smoothed her dress as best she could.

Maybe no one would notice. Maybe she could sneak upstairs, change her clothes, and pretend nothing had happened. Taking a steadying breath, she eased the back door open.

The kitchen was quiet. No cooks, no maids, no footsteps. Relief washed over her. She slipped inside, carefully closing the door behind her.

One step. Two. Three.

"Young Miss." The voice stopped her cold.Victoria froze.

Slowly, she turned.

At the far end of the corridor stood Miss Clara.

The flickering light above cast shifting shadows across the housekeeper's face, making her expression impossible to read. Her hands were folded neatly before her, her posture as straight as ever.

She didn't look angry. She didn't look surprised. She simply watched.

Victoria's heartbeat quickened. Miss Clara's gaze travelled from the top of her tangled hair to the mud on her shoes. Every stain. Every wrinkle. Every speck of dust told its own story.

A single green leaf still clung to Victoria's shoulder, as though refusing to let go of the afternoon she'd spent beyond the manor walls.

Neither of them spoke. The silence stretched until it became almost unbearable. Finally, Miss Clara broke it. "Where have you been?"

Her voice was calm, too calm. There was no shouting, no raised hand, no sharp rebuke. Somehow, that frightened Victoria even more.

She lowered her eyes. Her fingers twisted together behind her back. "I..."

The words caught in her throat. She thought about lying. She couldn't.

The evidence covered her from head to toe. "I went outside," she whispered.

Another silence settled between them.

"Outside?" Miss Clara repeated the word so softly it hardly sounded like a question. She took one slow step forward. Then another.

The click of her shoes echoed through the corridor.Victoria's pulse hammered in her ears.

Miss Clara stopped only inches away. Up close, Victoria could see every tiny line around the older woman's eyes, every strand of silver hidden among her dark hair.

She waited. Waited for the lecture, to be dragged upstairs. Waited for Mother to hear.

Instead, Miss Clara simply looked at her with keen eyes.

There was fear in the little girl's eyes. But there was something else, too.

A spark. A brightness Miss Clara hadn't seen in a very long time. Without saying a word, she lifted one hand.

Victoria flinched instinctively, squeezing her eyes shut. Nothing happened. No slap came. No harsh grip seized her arm.

After a hesitant moment, Victoria opened one eye. Miss Clara's fingers had reached only as far as the leaf resting on her shoulder. She plucked it free with surprising care and held it in her palm.

"There," she murmured. "It doesn't belong on your dress."

Victoria stared. For several long seconds, neither of them moved. The leaf lay quietly in Miss Clara's hand.

Then she reached out once more. This time she gently tucked a loose strand of dusty hair behind Victoria's ear.The gesture was so unexpected that Victoria forgot to breathe.

"You frightened us," Miss Clara said at last. Her voice had softened.

"When no one could find you, your mother searched every room herself." Victoria's stomach sank.

"Is... is she angry?"

Miss Clara glanced toward the grand staircase. "I imagine she's worried."

There was a pause. "Though your mother has never been very good at showing worry."

Victoria nodded faintly.That sounded like Mother. Miss Clara looked back at the child standing before her. Mud stained her clothes. Her shoes were ruined. Her cheeks were dusty.

Yet...She was smiling. Only a little but it was there. Miss Clara couldn't remember the last time she'd seen that smile. Something inside her softened. "Did you enjoy yourself?"

Victoria hesitated. She wasn't sure if admitting the truth would make things worse. But after today...She didn't want to lie. "Yes." The answer came quietly. "It was... wonderful."

A tiny smile touched the corners of Miss Clara's lips before disappearing almost as quickly as it had come. "I thought it might have been."

Victoria blinked in surprise. "You... did?" Miss Clara gave the smallest nod. "When I was a little girl, I climbed trees."

Victoria's eyes widened. "You did?"

"I was terrible at it," Miss Clara admitted, almost amused. "I ruined many dresses." For a brief moment, they simply looked at one another. Not as a housekeeper and young mistress. Just as two people sharing a memory.

Then reality returned. Miss Clara straightened. "Go upstairs."

Victoria's shoulders dropped.

"I'll speak with your parents."

The little girl swallowed hard. "Will I be punished?"

Miss Clara considered the question. "That," she said gently, "depends on how willing you are to tell them the truth."

Victoria nodded. She took a slow breath before climbing the staircase, each step feeling heavier than the last.

Halfway up, she glanced back. Miss Clara was still standing in the corridor. The housekeeper looked down at the small green leaf resting in her hand. For the first time in years, the sight made her smile.

Just a little. Then she opened the nearest window and released it into the evening breeze. The leaf danced through the air before disappearing beyond the manor walls, back toward the place where laughter still lingered.