(Daniëlle van de Donk and Ellie Carpenter)
Daniëlle van de Donk sat quietly on the bench overlooking the training field, her hands fidgeting with the zipper of her jacket. The sun dipped low in the sky, casting long shadows across the grass, but the warmth didn't reach her. The vibrant energy she was known for had faded, replaced by an emptiness she couldn't quite shake.
Her teammates laughed and joked as they walked off the pitch, but Daniëlle couldn't bring herself to join them. The pressure had been mounting for weeks—pressure to perform, to be the heart of the team, to meet expectations she could no longer bear. The joy she once felt every time she stepped onto the field had slowly eroded, leaving her feeling like a shell of her former self.
Ellie Carpenter noticed. She had always been attuned to Daniëlle, her friend and teammate, but lately, something felt off. Daniëlle's spark had dimmed, and her smile no longer reached her eyes. Ellie had seen it before—in others, in herself. It was the subtle signs of someone wrestling with something deeper, something that words couldn't easily express.
As the team headed to the locker room, Ellie hesitated, watching Daniëlle from a distance. She saw the way her friend's shoulders slumped, the way her gaze seemed lost in a world of its own. Ellie knew she couldn't ignore it any longer.
She walked over, her cleats crunching on the gravel path. "Hey, Dani, you okay?" Ellie's voice was soft, careful not to startle her.
Daniëlle looked up, her eyes tired and distant. She forced a smile, but Ellie saw through it. "Yeah, I'm fine, just tired."
Ellie nodded, but she didn't believe it. "You've been tired a lot lately. Want to talk about it?"
Daniëlle sighed, her facade crumbling. She had always been the strong one, the one who others turned to for support, but now she felt like she was drowning. "I don't know, Ellie. It's just... everything feels heavy, you know? Like I'm carrying a weight I can't put down."
Ellie sat beside her, close but not too close, giving Daniëlle space to breathe. "It's okay to feel like that. We all do sometimes."
Daniëlle shook her head, her voice trembling. "But I shouldn't. I'm supposed to be strong, to be the one who holds everything together. But I don't think I can anymore. It's all too much."
Ellie reached out, her hand resting gently on Daniëlle's shoulder. "You don't have to be strong all the time, Dani. It's okay to lean on someone else when you need to. You're not alone in this."
For a moment, Daniëlle said nothing, the weight of Ellie's words sinking in. She had always prided herself on her resilience, but now she realized how much she needed someone to be there for her, to help carry the burden she had been shouldering alone.
"Thank you," Daniëlle whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I didn't want to admit it, but I've been struggling for a while now. Everything just feels... overwhelming."
Ellie nodded, understanding all too well. "It's okay, Dani. You don't have to go through this alone. I'm here, we're all here. We'll get through this together."
The wind picked up, ruffling their hair as they sat in silence. Ellie didn't push for more, knowing that sometimes, just being there was enough. She offered her quiet support, a steady presence in the storm of emotions that Daniëlle was battling.
Daniëlle looked out at the field, the place that had always been her sanctuary. It still was, in a way, but now she realized that it was okay to need more than just the game to heal. It was okay to need her friends, to admit that she was vulnerable.
"I'm scared, Ellie," Daniëlle admitted, her voice barely audible over the wind.
"I know," Ellie said, her voice gentle but firm. "But you're not alone. We'll face it together, one step at a time."
Daniëlle nodded, a small glimmer of hope flickering in her chest. She wasn't sure how she would get through this, but with Ellie by her side, she knew she wouldn't have to do it alone.
The road ahead was uncertain, but for the first time in a long time, Daniëlle felt like she wasn't walking it by herself. And that made all the difference.
