It's difficult to find the way everything fits into place once it's broken, even if a surgeon gives you a pretty significant first push. Alexia's recovery is progressing with hope. Her knee is responding well to rehabilitation, but she doesn't feel...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Week 8
Mía's POV
"Is it always going to be like this?" Alexia shrugged from the chair across from me. "What I don't understand is why you keep coming if you're injured. Just stay at home and be done with it."
She had a break for at least a month. Luckily, she should be able to return to training next week. It had been a wake-up call. She had pushed herself too hard to get back to playing and had managed to make everyone believe she was fully recovered just because she felt capable of playing again. It wouldn't be so easy now.
She also knew that if she had fully committed to her recovery, she wouldn't be facing this setback. And she was angry. But so was I.
It had taken two days to find out about the blonde's condition. She hadn't responded to any of my messages, nor had she allowed me to enter the infirmary. It was her teammates who had told me. Not her. She hadn't made the slightest effort to communicate it to me.
"Has no one ever told you that mental health is as important as physical health?" She retorted.
I laughed bitterly.
"And do you think that coming here, crossing your arms and making sour faces is working for it?"
"It's the atmosphere of the room," she took a deep, noisy breath. "Being here already feels healing," she mocked.
I sighed.
"I would have liked to know that you were okay."
"You knew, didn't you?" I nodded. "Then that's it."
I massaged my temples. It was going to be a stressful hour, as always. I adjusted myself in the chair and rested my elbows on the table. Why bother with formalities?
"You could have replied to my messages."
"How strange. Responding isn't really your thing," she reclined calmly. "Take advantage of this time to do your thing."
"I really don't understand..." the footballer shrugged. "Don't you want to talk about the other day at all?"
"You said everything you had to say. I don't intend to respond further on the matter."
"I didn't say anything."
"Exactly," she replied. "More than enough."
I crossed my arms too. It made no sense to try to maintain a therapeutic atmosphere when the patient wasn't acting as such and didn't intend to.
"And what do you hope to achieve like this?" I spat.
"For what you're going to tell me, you'd better stay quiet."
I sighed exasperatedly, dropping my forehead into my hands.
"You know it can't be."
"That's not what matters to me, nor is it what I asked you to tell me," she replied without looking at me, focused on checking her nails.
