Years Of Love

Breaking point

Paige's life had taken a sharp turn, and it wasn't just her close friends who noticed. Lately, everyone around her could see it—the change was obvious. The bags under her eyes, the red-rimmed look that told a story no one wanted to ask about. She'd always been the face of UConn's team: vibrant, focused, and full of energy. But now, she was slipping, and everyone felt it.

Paige walked into the locker room one morning, wearing her usual black hoodie pulled over her head and a pair of AirPods Max covering her ears. She didn't greet anyone like she used to, didn't flash that easy smile that made people feel like everything was going to be okay. Instead, she went straight to her locker, barely acknowledging her teammates. The faint smell of weed followed her in, and even though she tried to mask it, everyone could tell.

Ice was the first to glance over, her face tightening with concern. "She's been like this every day for the past two weeks," she whispered to Caroline, who was sitting next to her.

Caroline frowned. "I know. I've tried asking her what's going on, but she brushes me off. It's like she's not even here anymore."

Across the room, Kk watched Paige sit down, her movements slow and almost robotic. The hoodie hid her face, and the AirPods blocked out everything around her. The only time she ever took them off was to practice—and even then, it was like she was just going through the motions.

Paige tied her shoes and grabbed her water bottle, making her way to the court without a word. The whole team exchanged glances, the unspoken tension thickening. They all knew something was wrong, but no one could get through to her.

During practice, Coach Auriemma called out a drill, but Paige lagged behind, moving slower than everyone else. She took longer to react to plays, often zoning out completely. When Azzi passed her the ball, Paige fumbled it, and the ball rolled across the floor.

Azzi looked frustrated. "Paige, come on! What's going on with you?"

Paige glared at her, her bloodshot eyes narrowing. "I'm fine, Azzi," she snapped, her voice sharper than it had ever been. "Just leave me alone."

Azzi blinked, taken aback. Paige never talked to her like that—never talked to anyone like that. She opened her mouth to say something, but Kk shook her head slightly, signaling her to let it go for now.

The practice continued, but Paige's mind was somewhere else. Every now and then, she tugged her hoodie down lower, as if trying to shield herself from the world. She was in her own head, lost in a haze, and the team could feel her slipping further away.

Later that night, Paige slipped out of the dorm without telling anyone. It had become a routine—late nights, a black hoodie, and her AirPods always covering her ears. She had no destination, just a craving for something to numb the constant ache inside her.

Shay had hit her up earlier, offering her another "escape," and Paige was all too ready to take it. She didn't care anymore if she was being reckless. She didn't care about the consequences. She just wanted to forget. Forget about the pressure, the expectations, Azzi's coldness, and her own overwhelming feelings of failure.

The next morning, Paige rolled into practice again, eyes bloodshot and barely able to focus. Her body felt heavy, weighed down by the previous night's choices, but she acted like everything was fine. She had gotten good at pretending.

But the team wasn't blind.

Kk leaned in close to Ice as they watched Paige. "She's been high every day for the last week," Kk murmured, her voice filled with concern. "I don't know how much longer we can ignore this."

"I know," Ice sighed, her eyes following Paige as she half-heartedly dribbled the ball down the court. "But she won't talk to us. She's shutting everyone out. You saw how she snapped at Azzi yesterday."

"And she smells like weed," Aubrey added quietly, joining their conversation. "We can't just keep pretending this isn't happening."

"We won't," Kk said firmly, her mind already spinning with ways to approach Paige. "We need to get her help. Before this gets even worse."

In the locker room after practice, everyone was quiet, the tension hanging heavy in the air. Paige was the last to leave, sitting alone at her locker with her hoodie still on, earbuds in, completely disconnected from the world around her. As the others started to file out, Kk lingered near the door, watching her.

"Paige," Kk called out softly, trying to get her attention. No response.

"Paige," Kk said a little louder, walking closer. Still nothing. Paige was in her own world, unreachable.

Frustrated, Kk reached out and gently pulled one of Paige's AirPods off. "Paige, talk to me."

Paige's eyes snapped up, her face a mask of irritation. "What?" she said coldly, yanking her AirPod back.

"We're worried about you," Kk started, her voice calm but filled with concern. "You're not yourself. You've been acting different. You're—"

"I'm fine," Paige interrupted, her tone clipped. "I don't need a lecture, Kk."

"This isn't a lecture," Kk replied, taking a deep breath. "You're pushing us away. You're pushing Azzi away. You're out late all the time, you smell like weed, you're—"

"What the hell do you know about what I'm going through?" Paige cut her off, standing up abruptly. "You think you can fix everything with a conversation? You think I'm just gonna spill my feelings and everything's gonna be fine?"

Kk's expression hardened. "I don't think talking will fix everything, but shutting everyone out and acting like this isn't going to help you either."

Paige's fists clenched at her sides. "I don't need your help," she muttered, grabbing her bag and shoving her hoodie's hood back over her head. "I don't need anyone."

Without another word, Paige stormed out of the locker room, leaving Kk standing there in stunned silence.

Later that night, Paige wandered the streets in her hoodie, the familiar comfort of her AirPods drowning out the world. She wasn't sure where she was going—maybe back to Shay's, maybe nowhere at all. But the numbing emptiness inside her was growing stronger, and she couldn't seem to escape it.

As she walked, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She ignored it at first, but then it buzzed again and again. Finally, she pulled it out and saw dozens of missed calls from the team, but most of all from Azzi.

Her heart clenched.

Paige stared at the screen, her thumb hovering over Azzi's name. But instead of calling her back, she turned her phone off, shoved it deep in her pocket, and kept walking.

She wasn't ready to face the damage she was causing—not yet. All she could do was keep running from it.