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𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒 strikes even the strongest soldiers, and jordan was no exception. beneath the surface of his well-rehearsed smiles and the steady cadence of his footsteps on the pitch, there lived a silence far louder than any crowd could drown. ever since elisia had slipped away, like a whispered prayer lost to the wind, something inside him had remained unfinished, unhealed. it wasn't that he was ungrateful. he wasn't. he had ruby, their daughter, a living echo of elisia's laughter and grace. he had his teammates, who stood by him in the darkest hours with quiet loyalty. he had his family, their concern wrapped in gentle glances and warm hands. but even the brightest rooms can feel hollow when the one soul who made them feel like home is gone. eight years had passed. eight long winters, eight summers he had walked through without her, carrying the weight of memory like a second skin. and still, there were moments when the ache would return uninvited, curling in his chest like smoke, reminding him of everything he once had and everything he lost. he never spoke about it. not really. grief had taught him that some wounds don't need words, only silence, and time, and the quiet ache of remembering. so he learned to live beside the loneliness. he let it breathe in the spaces between his breaths, let it hum like a quiet song beneath ruby's laughter. he bore it not because he was strong, but because he had no choice. because love, real true love, leaves marks that even time cannot erase.
and during one of the training sessions, it happened, the way it sometimes does, quietly, without warning.
jordan had barely noticed how long he'd been zoning out. the cold kissed the back of his neck, sweat clinging to his shirt like grief to his ribs. he was halfway through a drill when james milner jogged over, calling time on the moment with that steady, northern calm he always carried.
"you alright, mate?" james asked, his brow creased, eyes sharp with knowing. the leeds drawl wrapped itself around the words, clipped, direct, but not unkind.
jordan blinked, caught mid-thought. "yeah," he muttered, pushing a boot into the turf, "just knackered, tha's all."
"knackered, me arse," james said, a ghost of a grin flickering before fading. "you've been miles off all mornin'. thought you were gonna boot the ball straight into the clouds."
jordan let out a breath, not quite a laugh, but close. he rubbed the back of his neck, eyes darting down to the pitch. "s'nowt, really."
james didn't move, didn't let him look away. "hendo."
jordan flinched slightly at the use of the nickname. only james used it like that, like it meant something more than captaincy and camaraderie.
"she's been on your mind again, hasn't she?"
there was a pause, a long one. the air between them held the weight of unspoken years. finally, jordan nodded, barely.
"every day," he said quietly. his sunderland lilt softened the words, like they were meant to stay buried. "can't shake it. doesn't matter how long it's been, eight years, ten... feels like i just saw her yesterday."
