The alarm shrieked its unwelcome greeting, harsh and unrelenting in the morning quiet, jarring Alessia from sleep. She reached for it, half buried under pillows, muttering as she silenced the noise. Normally, she'd stretch out a hand to shake Kyra awake, whisper some quiet encouragement to get her up before the day spun into full speed. But today was different. Alessia shot a quick glance at her wife's sleeping figure, chest rising and falling peacefully, lips parted in a serene sort of bliss. A small flicker of annoyance sparked in her chest.
Alessia's mind lingered on their "light" fight the night before. The memory still simmered, so instead of the usual good morning nudge, she let Kyra sleep.
She slipped out of bed quietly, moving with care not to disturb Kyra, and headed to the bathroom. As the morning light filtered through the blinds, Alessia took her time. She let the shower water run a little longer, the steam curling around her, washing away some of that irritation as she prepared herself for the day. Her makeup was meticulous, her outfit—sleek and professional, a little more tailored than usual—giving her that added edge. Today was a big match, and she had a full schedule at Emirates, covering Arsenal's game against Chelsea for BBC Sport with Alex Scott.
By the time she walked down the stairs, the house was quiet, the usual morning banter between them absent. Normally, she'd be prepping coffee, Kyra groggily making her way down for breakfast, teasing Alessia about being too much of a morning person. Today, though, she left without a second glance back at the empty kitchen. The only thing that greeted her as she walked out the door was the soft click of the lock, sealing Kyra in her silent slumber.
The ride to the Emirates was quiet, Alessia taking comfort in the city's stillness, her mind already shifting gears to game analysis. She met Alex Scott outside the stadium, where they exchanged quick greetings. The banter between them was easy, professional. Together, they entered the broadcasting box, and Alessia caught herself scanning the field, half-expecting to see a familiar face warming up, even though she knew it was far too early. As she took her seat, she smirked at the memory of the many times she and Kyra had driven here together though today, clearly, was different.
In the booth, Alessia, pushing back any thoughts of the quiet she'd left at home. Alex, ever sharp eyed, arched a brow.
"Russo, looks like you've already had a morning," Alex noted, a grin curling at the edge of her lips. Alessia rolled her eyes, but she couldn't suppress a half-smile.
"Yeah, something like that," Alessia muttered, settling into the analyst's chair, taking in the bustling stadium. Soon, the tension in her shoulders melted into the familiar pulse of match day adrenaline.
___
Back at home, Kyra shifted, lazily reaching out to the other side of the bed. Empty. Her eyes blinked open, adjusting to the light and the realization that Alessia had left without waking her. Alessia always woke her.
"Shit!" she muttered, catching sight of the time. Alessia hadn't woken her up. She shot up, the sheets pooling around her waist, hair mussed, and the reality of the day's schedule punched her right in the gut. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" she cursed, scrambling out of bed, practically tripping over her own feet in her rush.
She didn't have time for anything, not even a shower. She pulled on clothes in a haphazard mix of quick, jerky movements, grabbing her training bag off the chair by the door, cursing under her breath as she shoved her boots inside. "Damn it, Less," she growled, knowing full well this was her own fault for last night, but still bitter that Alessia had just... left her behind.
Breakfast?
A quick search of the counters turned up nothing no toast, no coffee. With a snatch of an apple off the counter, she dashed out the door, biting into it aggressively as if it could somehow make up for the missing breakfast Alessia typically made.
