𝐀 𝐁𝐞𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐔𝐬︱Pablo Gavi

36: Collision of hearts

Isabella's Pov

The stadium was a sea of blue and red, buzzing with the familiar pre-game energy. From my position on the sidelines, I tried to immerse myself in the rhythm of the crowd, but my thoughts kept drifting to Pablo. Being at the game felt like a cruel twist of fate. I was supposed to be focused on my responsibilities, but the ache in my chest made it nearly impossible.

As the match progressed, I couldn't help but watch Pablo more closely than the actual game. His performance was noticeably off—misplaced passes, missed opportunities, and an overall lack of the usual sharpness that defined his play. With each mistake, I felt a pang of guilt, as if I were somehow responsible for his poor performance. It was irrational, but the feeling was overpowering.

Then, in a heart-stopping moment, Pablo leaped for a header. I watched in dread as he collided with an opponent and fell awkwardly, hitting his chin hard before crashing to the ground. Time seemed to slow as I sprinted onto the field, my heart racing with fear.

"Pablo!" I called out, my voice trembling as I reached him. The referee immediately signaled for medical assistance, and I knelt beside him, trying to gauge his condition. He was dazed but conscious, his eyes struggling to focus. I helped him up, keeping a steady hand on his shoulder as we made our way off the field.

In the medical room, the adrenaline was replaced by a quiet, oppressive tension. I guided Pablo to the examination table, my hands moving with practiced efficiency, though they trembled slightly. The initial assessment was concerning—a concussion and a sprained wrist. I worked to stabilize him, my mind racing with worries about his condition and the nagging thoughts about our recent breakup.

Pablo's voice, soft but insistent, broke through my concentration. "Isabella, I need to talk to you."

I tried to remain professional, focusing on his injuries and avoiding his gaze. "Just a moment, Pablo. I need to finish up here."

But despite my efforts, a few tears escaped, tracing warm lines down my cheeks. The sight of Pablo's vulnerable state, combined with the emotional weight of our recent confrontation, made it nearly impossible to keep my composure.

Pablo must have noticed my tears. He reached out, his hand gently touching my arm. "Isabella, please," he said, his voice cracking. "I'm so sorry."

Before I could respond, he pulled me into a hug. The embrace was both comforting and painful. His warmth and the familiar scent of his cologne were a sharp reminder of everything I had lost. I felt his heartbeat against my chest, a rhythmic reminder of the love that still lingered despite everything.

"I'm really sorry, Isa," he murmured into my hair. "I know I've messed up badly. I know I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I need you to know how deeply I regret everything. I love you so much, and I'll wait for you, no matter how long it takes."

His words were a balm to my wounded heart, yet they also stirred up a storm of conflicting emotions. I wanted to push him away, to protect myself from further hurt, but at the same time, I was desperate to hold on to the connection we once shared.

"You hurt me deeply," I managed to say through my tears. "I opened up to you in ways I've never opened up to anyone before. You promised me honesty, that we'd get married in Greece. And now it all feels like it was just part of the bet, just a game."

Pablo's grip tightened around me, his voice filled with sorrow. "I know, Isa. And I understand if you need time. I just want you to know that what I feel for you is real. The bet started as a stupid challenge, but my feelings for you were never part of the game. I fell in love with you for who you are, and I can't bear the thought of losing you."