Until my Last Breath

58

Barcelona, Spain

Gavi
I've been back in Barcelona for three days now. Three days, and I haven't seen her.

Not because I didn't want to-because I couldn't.

Between training, media duties, and obligations I just couldn't get out of, there was barely enough time to sleep, let alone sneak away to see Rita. But I called. Every chance I got. Every free hour, every spare moment.

And at first, it seemed fine.

She answered, she teased me, she even laughed at my dumb jokes. But I knew.

I knew from the way her voice lacked its usual sharpness, the way her laughs never lasted long. I knew from the pauses that stretched just a little too long, the sighs she thought I wouldn't notice.

And I especially knew from the silence.

Rita was never silent. Not like this. Not in a way that felt... empty.

No sarcastic comments about my schedule, no ranting about her day. No complaints, no anger, no anything.

Just nothing.

And that's what scared me.

Because as much as I hated seeing her upset, as much as I struggled when she was mad, at least those were emotions. Feelings.

But this? This is like talking to someone who is not there. Like she's floating in some empty space I couldn't reach.

And that's what makes it worse.

Because I know her. I know how she is, how she fights, how she pushes forward no matter what. So for her to be like this? Completely numb?

That's not just pain.

That is defeat.

And I can't fucking stand it.

Arthur, Charles, and Alex left a few days ago, and ever since, she's been completely alone with her thoughts.

And I hate it.

I hate that I haven't been able to be there, that all I can do is listen to her pretend she's fine when I know she's not.

Yesterday, she had tried to joke about it, saying something dumb about how I sounded exhausted, how she didn't know football players actually trained that much. I had played along, letting her change the subject because I knew if I pushed, she'd just deflect harder.

But then, right before she hung up, she had gone quiet for a second too long.

I almost thought the call had disconnected until I heard a breath, barely a whisper.

"I miss you."

She had said it softly, but it wasn't teasing.

It wasn't playful.

It was raw. Almost like she hadn't meant to say it out loud.

And before I could say it back, she had quickly covered it up with a laugh, told me to go to sleep, and hung up.

But that one second? That slip?

It told me everything.

Something is wrong.

But can I blame her?

If it were me-if I suddenly wasn't playing football, if I didn't even have a team-I don't know how I'd handle it. No, I do know.
I'd lose my mind.

Football is everything to me. It's my entire life, the one constant I've had since I was a kid. The thought of waking up one day and not having that... it's unbearable.