OFFSIDE

94

❝ You can't take back what you said. ❞
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Elena's POV
The stadium buzzes with excitement as the second half of the match begins. The air is thick with anticipation, the kind that seems to vibrate through the stands and settle into your bones. I'm sitting next to Julieta, and although she's chatting animatedly about something, I can barely focus. My eyes are locked on the field, searching for Pablo among the sea of players in their bright kits. It's 1-0, and Barça need this win. They can't afford to concede goals.

"Are you even listening to me?" Julieta teases, nudging me with her elbow.

I tear my gaze away from the pitch and offer her a sheepish smile. "Sorry, Julieta. I'm just... you know."

She laughs, shaking her head. "I know, I know. You're completely zoned out watching your man. But don't worry, I get it."

I'm grateful for her understanding, but the truth is, it's more than just watching Pablo that has me on edge. I glance over my shoulder, careful not to make it obvious, but I know exactly where Fernando and Pedri's parents are seated. They're not far, just a few rows down and to the left. Close enough that if I weren't careful, they might notice me. I don't think they'd recognize me from this distance, but the thought of even making eye contact makes my stomach twist.

"Oh look! There is Fernando and his parents. We can sit with them," Julieta says enthusiasts.

"No, I'm good here," I smile.

"But it looks like we're avoiding them. Fernando is so nice and I really love Pedri's parents," she says.

"But we've been sitting here the whole first half. Besides, it's a big stadium. It's not like we're avoiding them." But we are, in a way. Well, I am. I hadn't felt ready to face Fernando, not after everything that's been swirling around in my head lately. The guilt, the confusion—it's all too much. Sitting with Pedri's family would have made it feel like I was stepping into territory I wasn't ready to navigate, especially with Pablo on the field, unaware of the emotional turmoil I've been grappling with.

And I never met Pedri his parents. That would be weird.

The players take their positions, and I spot Pablo near the midfield. He looks focused, determined. My heart swells with pride just watching him out there, but there's also a pang of something else—something heavier that I can't quite shake.

The whistle blows, and the game resumes. I try to lose myself in the action, cheering when our team makes a good play, gasping when the opposition gets too close to our goal. But even as I watch, my thoughts keep drifting back to the uncomfortable knot of emotions sitting in my chest.

Tonight Fc Barcelona plays against Feyenoord again. The last game in the groupfase. If they win this then we're through to the knockout. 

Julieta is absorbed in the game, her eyes following the ball as it moves up and down the field. She's always been good at immersing herself in the moment, and I envy that about her. I wish I could do the same right now, but it's like there's this constant buzzing in my mind that won't let me forget everything else.

I glance back toward where Fernando and Pedri's parents are sitting. They're focused on the game, too, completely unaware of the inner battle I'm fighting just a few rows away.

I shake my head, trying to dispel the thoughts. This is supposed to be a happy occasion, a chance to support Pablo and enjoy the sport he loves. I don't want to ruin it by getting lost in my own fears and doubts.

On the field, Pablo intercepts a pass, and I'm on my feet before I realize what I'm doing, cheering loudly with the rest of the crowd. He's so skilled, so confident with the ball at his feet. Watching him play is a reminder of all the reasons I fell for him in the first place—his passion, his drive, the way he lights up when he's doing what he loves.