through the silence

„she needs space"

After I got home, the weight of everything hit me all over again. My legs felt heavy as I walked through the front door, and the first thing I did was peel off my sweaty training clothes. I didn't even have the energy to put them in the laundry—just dropped them in a pile on the floor. The apartment was quiet, too quiet. I stood there for a second, letting the silence sink in, feeling the emptiness, and the frustration swelled up inside me. How had things gone so wrong so fast? I had trusted Jill. I thought we were becoming real friends, that she understood me.

I collapsed onto the sofa, curling up into a ball. My mind raced, replaying everything she'd said the day before, the way she admitted she'd told Viv what I'd confided in her about Bayern. I'd opened up to her, shared things that still hurt to think about, let alone talk about. It felt like a knife twisting in my gut every time I remembered the moment I realized she'd betrayed me.

Tears welled up in my eyes, and I let them fall, not bothering to wipe them away. The exhaustion from training, the emotional rollercoaster—it all came crashing down on me, and soon, I was sobbing into the cushions. I hadn't cried like this in so long, and it hurt more than I wanted to admit. My chest felt tight, and all I could do was let the tears flow until I eventually drifted into an uneasy sleep.

When I woke up the next morning, everything felt just as heavy as it had the day before. My eyes were sore and puffy, and my head throbbed, but the worst part was the ache in my chest. It was still there—raw, sharp, unrelenting. I reached for my phone out of habit and saw a bunch of missed calls and messages. Most of them were from Jill and Sydney.

Jill had sent several texts, all variations of "Can we talk?" and "I'm so sorry." I couldn't deal with her right now, though. I wasn't ready to face her, to hear her explanations or apologies. I scrolled past her messages and opened Sydney's instead.

"Hey, where are you? I'm getting worried. Call me when you can."

Sydney always knew when something was off with me, and she'd never let me brush her off without making sure I was okay. I didn't want her to worry more than she already was, so I pressed the call button.

The phone barely rang before she answered. "Hayden? Oh my god, I was so worried about you! Are you okay?"

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my voice steady. "Hey, Syd. Yeah, I'm sorry I didn't get back to you. I wasn't feeling great yesterday, so I left training pretty quickly."

Sydney paused, her voice softening but still full of concern. "That's what Jill told everyone in the locker room, that you weren't feeling well. But Hayden, I know you better than that. What really happened?"

My stomach twisted. I knew Sydney wouldn't let it go. She could always see right through me. I hesitated, staring down at my hands, picking at the edge of the sofa cushion. "Do you want to come over for breakfast? I can explain everything then."

"Of course. I'll be there in five minutes," she said immediately, without even a hint of hesitation.

I hung up the phone and let out a long, shaky breath. Talking to Sydney was the right thing to do—I knew that—but I still felt so exposed, like I was about to peel back a layer I wasn't ready to face.

A few minutes later, the doorbell rang, and there she was—Sydney, standing in the doorway with a warm smile and a paper bag from the bakery down the street.

"I brought breakfast," she said, holding up the bag.

"Thanks," I said quietly, grateful for her easygoing presence. We went into the kitchen, setting the pastries and coffee on the table. For a while, we just ate in silence, Sydney giving me the space to start the conversation when I was ready.