𝙄𝙣 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙌𝙪𝙞𝙚𝙩 𝙈𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙨 - 𝘊𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘭𝘪𝘯 𝘍𝘰𝘰𝘳𝘥

𝙁𝙞𝙛𝙩𝙮 𝙏𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙚. 𝘚𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘛𝘰 𝘉𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦

The past few weeks had been a whirlwind—between our games with Arsenal and the constant travel for international duty, I felt like I'd barely had a moment to breathe. But it wasn't just the football. It was the media, the expectations, and the fact that no matter what I did, Caitlin was always on my mind.

Ever since we kissed on the pitch during the FA Cup final, it was like the whole world was watching us. I couldn't open my phone without seeing something about it—articles, tweets, pictures of us with captions like "𝙋𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧 𝘾𝙤𝙪𝙥𝙡𝙚 𝙞𝙣 𝙁𝙤𝙤𝙩𝙗𝙖𝙡𝙡" or "𝙁𝙤𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙋𝙪𝙜𝙝: 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙇𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙎𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮 𝘼𝙧𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝘿𝙞𝙙𝙣'𝙩 𝙎𝙚𝙚 𝘾𝙤𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙜." It was overwhelming, to say the least. The constant buzz around us didn't stop when I was on the pitch either. Even in training, I could feel people's eyes on us, like they were waiting for us to slip up, to show that our personal relationship is affecting our performance.

But it wasn't not just the attention. It was everything.

Today, I was at camp for World Cup training, and my body felt heavy. Not in the physical sense—I was fit, in shape—but there was a weight pressing down on me that I couldn't seem to shake. The pressure of being an international player, the growing intensity of our relationship, and the media scrutiny was slowly starting to gnaw at me. I wasn't even sure when I last had a proper conversation with Caitlin. Between our respective national team commitments and the frantic travel schedules, I felt like I was missing her, even when she was standing next to me.

"Els, you good?" Leah asks as she jogs up beside me on the training pitch, concern etched in her expression.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I mutter, trying to brush it off, but she knows me better than that.

"You sure? You've been quiet lately."

I force a smile, but it feels fake, even to me. "Just tired, that's all."

Leah doesn't push, but I can tell she's not convinced. Neither am I. Tired doesn't even begin to cover it. But how do you explain that to your teammate, to your captain? That it's not just about the football anymore—that everything feels too much all at once?

After training, I grabbed my phone and saw a message from Caitlin.

𝘾𝙖𝙞𝙩𝙡𝙞𝙣 🤍
𝙃𝙚𝙮, 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙙 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙈𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙡𝙙𝙖𝙨. 𝙒𝙚 𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙖𝙡𝙠 𝙨𝙤𝙤𝙣. 𝙈𝙞𝙨𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪.

I stared at the message for a long moment, feeling a strange mix of emotions. I missee her too, more than I'd been willing to admit. But the idea of talking—of really opening up—felt daunting. When did it get this complicated? It used to be easy with Caitlin. We'd just talk, laugh, and everything would feel lighter. Now, there was this invisible wall between us, built by the demands of our careers and the endless distractions.

By the time I got back to my room after dinner, it was late. I knew Caitlin was still awake because she was in Australia, and the time difference made everything even harder. I decided to call her, sinking into the sofa and pulling a blanket over myself.

The phone rang a few times before she picked up, and the sight of her face on the screen gave me a brief sense of relief. She was smiling, but there was something in her eyes—tiredness, maybe frustration. It wasn't just me who was feeling the strain.

"Hey," she says softly. "How was training?"

"Fine," I reply, not really wanting to talk about it. "How about you? How's camp?"

"Busy. Nonstop." She sighs, rubbing her eyes. "I feel like I've barely had time to think."

"Yeah," I murmur, "same here."

We both fall silent, the space between us filled with everything we're not saying. I can see it in her face, the exhaustion, the way her shoulders sag slightly. She's feeling it too. The distance. The pressure. The uncertainty.

"I miss you," Caitlin says after a beat, her voice quieter than before.

"I miss you too," I admit, my chest tightening at the words. It's true, but it's more than just missing her. I feel distant, like we're drifting apart, and I don't know how to fix it.

"When are we even going to see each other again?" she asks, her tone a little sharper now. "We've got these back-to-back internationals, then club duty, and it's like... we're in the same place, but we're not, you know?."

"I know," I say, the frustration in my voice matching hers. "It's not like I can control the schedule, Cait. This is just how it is."

She runs a hand through her hair, clearly trying to keep her patience. "I'm not blaming you, but it's hard, Elena. We can barely find time to talk, let alone—"

"Let alone what?" I snap, cutting her off. I didn't mean to, but the pressure I've been feeling all day—hell, all month—boils over. "Let alone what, Caitlin? It's not like either of us can just drop everything."

She goes quiet, and the weight of my words hangs in the air. Guilt immediately follows. I didn't mean to take it out on her, but I'm so overwhelmed—by the media, by the attention, by the pressure to always be on top of my game—that I don't know how to keep it together anymore.

"I'm sorry," I mutter, running a hand over my face. "I didn't mean that."

Caitlin takes a deep breath, her frustration ebbing away. "I get it, Els. I do. This... what we're trying to do—it's not easy. I knew that going in, but... I don't know. It feels like we're just drifting lately, and I hate it."

I nod, even though she can't see me. "I hate it too."

Another silence settles between us, but this time, it's not as heavy. It's like we're both acknowledging the struggle, the reality of what it means to be in this relationship while juggling our careers.

"I don't want to lose this," I say, my voice cracking slightly. "I don't want to lose you."

"You won't," Caitlin says firmly, her eyes locking with mine through the screen. "We'll figure it out. We always do."

I want to believe her, but there's a small part of me that's scared. Scared that the media, the distance, the expectations, will eventually tear us apart. But I can't let that fear win. Not now.

"I love you," I whisper, the words slipping out before I can stop them.

Caitlin's face softens, a small smile playing on her lips. "I love you too, Els. We'll get through this. One day at a time."

We end the call not long after, but even as I set my phone down, I can't help but feel like this is only the beginning of the struggle. Balancing love and football is harder than I ever imagined, and right now, the weight of it all feels heavier than ever.