slut - Alexia Putellas

58.

good evening.

nothing to say from my side today unless.. enjoy ☕️✍🏼

On the morning of October 17th, 2022, the therapist woke up earlier than usual to strange and frantic noises coming from the living room, stirring her from a peaceful sleep.

"What's Nala up to?"

Her murmured question hung in the stillness of their bedroom, barely audible over the sounds filtering in from the other room. She tiredly reached out, prompting to nuzzle closer to where Alexia should be, but unfortunately, she found the space beside her empty.

Cold and empty.

"Ale?"

Once again, Erin's inquiry met with silence.

Frowning, the blonde pushed herself up, heavy eyelids fighting to stay shut as she scanned the dimly lit room.

"Babe?"

Her voice, now tinged with concern, echoed softly through the bedroom. Sitting up fully, Erin pulled the blanket tighter around her bare chest, the cool morning air seeping in around her.

"What's wrong?" she called out louder, more urgently, her gaze flicking to the alarm clock reading 4:15 am before swinging her slender legs over the side of the bed.

With a quick stretch, she padded over to the door, grabbing the silk robe hanging nearby. Slipping into the smooth, dark blue fabric and tying it snugly around her waist, the soft material rustled quietly as she ventured into the brightly lit hallway, taking a moment to adjust to the sudden change in lighting.

"Babe, what's going on? Are you unwell?"

Erin's voice carried a mix of curiosity and concern as she navigated the hallway, her weary eyes locking onto the athlete pacing like a whirlwind around the apartment. Alexia straightened pillows on the couch needlessly and rearranged magazines on the dining table that were already perfectly aligned.

Yet, Alexia remained absorbed in her restless activity, oblivious to the therapist's presence.

"Ale?"

Frowning, Erin watched from the hallway as the captain moved into the kitchen, her bleached hair gathered messily in a bun, her expression fraught with unease. She looked exhausted, marked by deep shadows under her eyes as though she'd had a sleepless night, and guilt gnawed at Erin for not noticing sooner.

Her gaze shifted to Nala then, the little ball of fluff perched on the couch, sensing the tension in the air but unsure what to do.

Poor Nala.

"Ale?"

But once again, she was denied an answer.

Slowly padding forward, the blonde emerged from the hallway, her brow furrowing as she approached Alexia, now hunched over the kitchen island, vigorously scrubbing an already spotless countertop.

"Alexia," she called gently, stepping closer. "What's going on?"

But the midfielder barely paused in her frenetic activity, her movements a blur of nervous energy. It wasn't until the therapist firmly grasped her wrist, the touch of her cold hand grounding and insistent, that Alexia finally looked up.

"Alexia Putellas Segura, what's wrong?" Erin asked softly, concern etched deeply in her features.

A moment of silence lingered.

Hazel eyes flicker to meet Erin's gaze. Then back to the counter. Back to Erin's eyes.

"They'll be here any minute," the athlete suddenly replied anxiously, hazel eyes wide with worry as she turned back to continue scrubbing the countertop.