BACK AGAIN​- ᴊᴜᴅᴇ ʙᴇʟʟɪɴɢʜᴀᴍ

48

In the weeks that followed, life felt like it was suspended in a strange, slow-motion limbo. Jude's transfer deal was still in the works, but it seemed every time we thought things were about to be finalized, some new complication emerged.

The first delay came from paperwork issues, something about an approval from his current club that needed re-reviewing. Jude was frustrated, pacing back and forth on phone calls with his agent, occasionally muttering things like, "How many signatures does it take to get a yes?" But even after long days of negotiating, nothing budged.

When that finally cleared up, another issue popped up—the timing of his visa. There were new regulations that made processing trickier than usual, and suddenly, instead of leaving in two weeks, we were looking at another month.

I'd been bracing myself for the move, emotionally and mentally, so to keep getting pushed back threw me off. I couldn't seem to fully unpack, but I also couldn't bring myself to say my goodbyes yet. The feeling left me stuck somewhere in between: one foot in my old life, the other half-stepping into something new that hadn't quite begun.

At first, Jude tried to keep a brave face, but I could tell it was wearing on him too. He threw himself into his training, making use of every moment left with his teammates here, which left us with fewer moments together. 

Then, in what felt like a cruel twist, he pulled a muscle during one of his last practice matches, setting things back even further. The injury wasn't serious, but it was enough for his new club to ask him to wait until he was fully recovered before coming over. He was devastated, feeling like the universe was stacking delay upon delay.

For a while, we both fell into a routine, like we were coasting along on autopilot. Jude worked on his recovery, and I went through my days, still feeling a bit like I was holding my breath, waiting for the green light that would let us move forward. The city around us was the same, the familiar streets, the same friends and familiar places—but it all felt different, like we were caught in a limbo that we couldn't seem to break free from.

One night, as we sat on the balcony watching the city lights flicker below us, Jude took my hand and looked over at me, his expression softer than it had been in weeks.

"We'll get there," he said, squeezing my hand gently. "It's just taking longer than we thought, but we'll get there."

I nodded, his words settling over me like a balm. I realized then that this limbo, as frustrating as it was, was giving us more time here together. More time to make memories, to say our goodbyes slowly, to make peace with all that we'd leave behind.

And then, finally, one morning, just as the first traces of dawn were creeping over the horizon, Jude's phone buzzed. Half-awake, I watched him answer it, his eyes widening as he listened. When he hung up, he looked over at me, his expression a mix of excitement and relief.

"They're ready," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "We're going to Paris."

The weeks of waiting, the unexpected delays, the tense nights of doubt—it all melted away. I felt a surge of joy, and then something else, a realization that we really were on the brink of something new.

In the days that followed, everything moved quickly, almost too quickly. There was a flurry of packing, final meetings, and farewell plans. Jude's friends threw him a going-away party at his favorite pub, the kind of place with cracked leather booths and dim lights that always smelled faintly of warm pretzels. It was crowded that night, laughter and clinking glasses filling the air as friends offered toasts, sharing stories about Jude's quirks, his loyalty, his terrible singing during away games. He laughed along, but I could see something bittersweet in his eyes as he looked around the room, knowing this chapter was ending.

Later, as we were leaving, he pulled me close under the glow of a streetlamp, a cool breeze lifting his hair. "I can't believe it's actually happening," he murmured, his voice a mixture of excitement and nostalgia. "One moment it felt like it would never come, and now... now it's here."

I nodded, feeling the same strange rush. "It's real, Jude. Paris is waiting for us."

The following morning, I took the chance to say my own goodbyes. I spent the day with Enzo and Aurélien, wandering around the city. Stopping by coffee shops and small stores. 

That evening, back at my apartment, I found myself standing by the window, looking out over the city one last time, soaking it all in. Jude came up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist, his chin resting on my shoulder. Enzo had gone to stay with Aurélien, so me and Jude were alone for our last night.

"So much stuff happened here," he said softly, his voice barely a whisper.

I turned around to face him, cupping his face in my hands. "And now we're going to build something new. Just you and me. Paris is going to be incredible."

He smiled, leaning in to kiss me gently, and I felt the anticipation settle over us, solidifying everything we'd been waiting for. In that moment, all my fears dissolved into excitement.

The morning of our flight arrived with a sense of electric energy in the air. We barely spoke on the way to the airport, but Jude held my hand tightly, his thumb rubbing circles over mine. As we sat in the waiting area, I could feel the significance of this moment stretching around us, the threshold between what was and what was to come.

Finally, when our flight was called, he looked over at me, eyes bright. "Ready?"

I nodded, squeezing his hand as we made our way down the jet bridge. As we stepped onto the plane, I felt an overwhelming sense of clarity. We were stepping into a new world, and for the first time in a long time, the future felt wide open, like anything was possible.

Paris was waiting, and I was more than ready.