Fame did not arrive with fireworks.
It crept in quietly and then stayed.
Marcus noticed it first in small ways. His name printed bigger on match posters. His face appearing in highlight clips after games not as a surprise but as an expectation. Commentators stopped explaining who he was. They assumed people already knew.
And they did.
Away arenas booed him now. Not out of disrespect but recognition. He smiled the first time it happened. Booing meant he mattered.
His performances stayed steady. That was the part he was proudest of. No wild swings. No chasing numbers. Just impact. Night after night.
By mid season the club called him in.
The meeting was short.
"We want to extend your contract," the director said. "Longer term. Improved role. Improved salary."
Marcus listened quietly.
They slid the paper across the table.
The figure made him pause.
It was double what Adrian was earning.
Double.
No hype. No noise. Just value.
"We believe in what you bring," the director continued. "Leadership. Stability. Winning habits. This is not a reward. It is an investment."
Marcus signed with a steady hand.
When the news broke it sent a ripple through the league.
Analysts debated it. Fans argued. Social media exploded with comparisons.
"How did Marcus surpass Adrian so fast?"
"Work beats reputation."
"This is the biggest rise in recent years."
Adrian felt it immediately.
Reporters stopped asking him only about his highlights. They asked about Marcus.
"How does it feel to earn less than your teammate?"
"Is there tension in the locker room?"
Adrian smiled through it but the edge was visible now.
Marcus did not comment.
He kept training.
The Adidas deal expanded quietly. New colorways. Youth clinics. Community courts refurbished in his name without banners or speeches. Kids lined up wearing his shoes not because of marketing but because he played like someone who understood struggle.
His mother called one evening her voice shaking.
"They said your salary on the radio," she whispered. "Your father sat quietly the whole time. He did not speak. But when the program ended he said… our son has done well."
Marcus closed his eyes.
That was worth more than the money.
Lena saw the pressure grow but she also saw how Marcus carried it. Calm. Measured. Unchanged.
"You're earning more than Adrian now," she said one night teasing softly.
Marcus shrugged. "Money doesn't play defense."
She laughed. "You haven't changed."
"I promised myself I wouldn't," he replied.
Fame kept climbing.
So did expectations.
Every bad pass was dissected. Every quiet night questioned. But Marcus had lived through worse than criticism. He had lived through irrelevance. This was lighter.
What mattered was this.
He was no longer chasing validation.
He had earned leverage.
He had earned security.
And more than anything he had earned the right to choose how bright his light would shine.
The season was not over.
But Marcus had already crossed a line few ever returned from.
He was no longer the comeback story.
He was the standard.