Leah's pov:
Back in London, I felt like I was moving through a fog. The first thing I had to do was tell Jonas. It was one of the hardest conversations I'd ever had to have. I walked into his office, my heart heavy with grief and anxiety.
Jonas looked up from his desk, concern already etched on his face. "Leah, what's wrong?" he asked, his voice gentle.
I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the words I was about to speak. "Jonas, there's been... an accident. Maddie..." My voice broke, and I had to pause to collect myself. "Maddie passed away."
Jonas's expression shifted to one of shock and sorrow. He stood up and walked around his desk to stand beside me, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Leah. How are you holding up?"
I shook my head, tears welling up in my eyes. "I don't know. It's... it's just so hard. I need to let everyone know."
Jonas nodded. "Take your time. Do what you need to do. The team will understand."
I left his office and made my way to the training ground. The team was gathered, and I could see them chatting and laughing, unaware of the news I was about to deliver. My heart ached at the thought of shattering their day.
I walked over to them, and as soon as they saw my face, the mood shifted. Beth was the first to approach me. "Leah, what's happened?"
I took another deep breath, trying to steady my voice. "Everyone, I need to tell you something." They gathered around, and I felt their supportive presence giving me the strength to continue. "Maddie... Maddie passed away."
Gasps and cries of disbelief filled the air. I saw tears welling up in their eyes, mirroring my own. Beth covered her mouth with her hand, Kim hugged me tightly.
"We need to be there for each other," I said, my voice trembling. "Maddie was a part of our family, and we have to support one another through this."
We stood there in a huddle, holding each other and sharing our grief. It was a small comfort, but it was something. After a while, we all dispersed, each dealing with the news in our own way.
I still had more people to tell. I called Grace, Maddie's close friend from outside the team. She answered quickly, her usual cheery voice greeting me. I hated what I had to say.
"Grace, it's Leah. I have some terrible news. Maddie... Maddie passed away."
There was silence on the other end of the line, followed by a choked sob. "No, no, that can't be true," Grace said, her voice breaking. "How?"
I explained as best I could, but there were no words that could make it better. We cried together over the phone, sharing the pain of our loss.
As the day went on, I continued to make the calls, each one harder than the last. By the end of it, I was emotionally exhausted. I sat down in the empty changing room, feeling the weight of the day pressing down on me.
But as hard as it was, I knew it was necessary. Maddie's memory deserved to be honored, and her friends and family needed to know so they could grieve and remember her in their own ways. It was the least I could do for someone who had meant so much to me and so many others.
The next day was heartbreaking. I sat at home, staring blankly at the TV, trying to process everything that had happened. The news came on, and I knew it was going to be tough to watch. Sure enough, they started talking about Maddie.
The screen filled with clips of her playing, scoring goals, and celebrating with her teammates. They showed some of her most iconic moments: the stunning bicycle kick in the Euros, her incredible debut with Arsenal, and even some of the times she'd celebrated goals with us, her team. Seeing those moments replayed was like a punch to the gut, reminding me of all the talent, energy, and joy that Maddie had brought to the pitch and to our lives.
