𝙄𝙣 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙌𝙪𝙞𝙚𝙩 𝙈𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙨 - 𝘊𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘭𝘪𝘯 𝘍𝘰𝘰𝘳𝘥

𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙧𝙩𝙮 𝙏𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙚. 𝘍𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘗𝘳𝘰𝘹𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘵𝘺

I stand at the edge of the training pitch, feeling my pulse quicken as Jonas blows the whistle to gather everyone in. The rest of the team jobs over, settling into a semi-circle as Jonas begins explaining the next drill. I can hear his voice, but the words feel like background noise compared to the thudding in my chest.

I'm hyper-aware of Caitlin, who stands a few feet away. Our paths had barely crossed since the start of preseason, and I'd been doing everything I could to keep it that way, but today something felt odd. There's a tension in the air, a sense of inevitability.

Jonas claps his hands together, pulling me out od my thoughts. "Alright, we're working on the some small-sided drills today. You'll be pared up for this."

I try keeping my breathing steady, scanning the rest of the team to figure out who I might be paired with. Steph gives me a nod and Beth flashes a silly smile, but when Jonas starts calling out names, my stomach twists.

"Caitlin and Elena, you're together." Jonas says, his voice casual, like he has no idea he's just dropped a bomb in the middle of my carefully constructed world.

I freeze for a split second, my heart plummeting. I risk a quick glance at Caitlin, who seems equally stunned. Our eyes meet for the briefest moment, before we both look away, trying to hide our discomfort.

Jonas moves on, pairing up the rest of the team, oblivious to the awkward silence that had settled between the two of us players. I could feel the weight of it pressing down on me, making it hard to breathe. This was exactly what I'd been dreading- being forced into a situation with Caitlin where we couldn't avoid each other anymroe.

Caitlin clears her throat, breaking the silence. "Shall we?" She asks, her voice tense but polite, like she was speaking to a stranger.

I nod, my throat too dry to respond. We move to our section of the pitch, the awkwardness hanging between us like a heavy cloud.

The drill was simple- pass and move, creating small patterns of play to sharp wen our touch and build chemistry. Normally, I thrived in these kinds of drills. My footwork's quick, my passing sharp and speed's never an issue, but today, everything feels off.

I can feel Caitlin's presence beside me, the familiar rhythm we once shared on the field now feeling strained. Every pass between us feels heavier than it should, like we're both too conscious of the other.

The ball zips between us, but my touch is a little too heavy and Caitlin's return pass is slightly off target. We move mechanically, the tension palpable in the air.

"Good work, keep the tempo up!" Jonas shoits, completely unaware of the unease simmering between us.

Caitlin breaks the silence between us after another misstep. "You alright?" She asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

My breath hitches, surprised that she even asked. I hesitate before answering, keeping my gaze on the ball as I pass it back. "Yeah... fine."

The lie hangs between us, obvious and unconvincing, but Caitlin doesn't push further. Instead, we both sink into a kind of mechanical silence, going through the motions of the drill, but never quite syncing up like we used to.

As the drill wears on, my frustration grows. I'm not sure if it's because of Caitlin, or because I can't shake the emotions I'd been bottling up since the breakup. I can feel myself slipping, my concentration fractured.

A pass comes in from Caitlin, but my mind's elsewhere. The ball slips under my foot, skidding out of bounds. I swear under my breath, immediately crouching down to fix the situation.

"Elena," Caitlin starts, her voice soft but cautious, "you don't have to force it."

My chest tightens, the words striking a nerve. I stand up, my jaw clenched. "I'm not forcing anything."

Caitlin's eyes flicker with a mix of frustration and something else-something I can't quite place. "Look, I'm just trying to-"

"I don't need your help," I snap, sharper than I intend.

The air between us feels like it has been sliced open, the weight of our unresolved issues hanging heavily over us. Caitlin blinks, her face hardening slightly as she looks away, choosing not to push further.

Jonas, unaware of the silent tension, claps his hands to signal the end of the drill. "Alright, switch up pairs!" he calls out, and I feel an immediate surge of relief, though my stomach is still in knots.

After the session ended, I bolted for the changing room, desperate to escape the awkwardness that had weighed down every minute of our pairing. I avoided eye contact with the rest of the team, my head buzzing with frustration.

As I enter the changing room, Steph catches up to me."Hey, Els, everything okay?" She asks, her tone casual but laced with concern. "Saw you and Caitlin out there... didn't look like your best session."

I force a smile, trying to mask the storm inside me. "Just a bad day. I'll shake it off."

Steph raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "You sure? You seemed pretty wound up."

"I'm fine, Steph," I say, a little too quickly, pulling my boots off and stuffing them into my bag. "Just... preseason rust."

Steph watchs me for a moment, as if trying to read between the lines, but eventually nods. "Alright. Just don't push yourself too hard."

I mumble a quick thanks before grabbing my things and heading for the showers. My mind was still racing, replaying every awkward exchange with Caitlin, every glance, every misstep.

As the water hits my face, I close my eyes and let out a long, shaky breath. I thought preseason would help me move on, but now it felt like everything I'd buried over the summer with the Euros and Spain with Ona was clawing its way back to the surface.

And I have no idea how long I can keep pretending it doesn't hurt.