(Ffion Morgan and Lia Cataldo)
The storm rolled over Bristol with the weight of unspoken words, lightning slicing across the sky as Ffion Morgan leaned against the doorframe of the café. Rain tapped a rhythm on the awning overhead, but it was the silence behind her that was loudest. She glanced back. Lia Cataldo stood by the window, arms crossed, eyes locked on something far beyond the glass.
Ffion swallowed. "You asked me to meet you. So I came."
Lia didn't move. Her voice, when it came, was quiet. Controlled. Dangerous. "I need the truth."
Ffion took a tentative step inside. The café was empty this late—just them and the echoes of memories. "I didn't lie to you."
"That's not what I asked." Lia turned. Her expression was unreadable, but her eyes—those fierce, vulnerable eyes—burned. "Was it all a lie?"
Ffion felt her chest tighten. "I can't take that look in your eyes," she said, softer than she meant to. "You think I used you. That everything we had—"
"—Was just training camp fun? A few shared playlists, some late-night walks, a kiss on a balcony in Portugal?" Lia's voice cracked. "Don't make it poetic now."
"I'm not."
"You left." Lia took a step forward. "Without a word. No message, no goodbye. After everything."
Ffion dropped her gaze. "I was scared."
"That's your excuse?"
"No," Ffion said. "That's my truth."
The silence stretched again. The rain came harder, smearing the world outside into watercolor shapes.
"I meant every word," Ffion said finally, eyes lifting. "Every moment. That you think were stolen? I lived them. I felt them. But when the call came—when I found out I was moving—I panicked. I thought walking away would protect us both."
Lia's laugh was bitter. "Protect us from what? From caring? From the pain of distance? You didn't give me a chance to decide if I wanted to try."
Ffion stepped closer. "Because I thought you'd say no."
Lia stared at her. "You don't get to decide how much I can love."
Ffion flinched. That word—love—hung in the air between them. Heavy. Raw.
The last time they'd been together, it was under a lavender dusk sky in France. They'd sat on a hotel balcony, their feet on the railing, sharing headphones, sharing space. Ffion had tucked a strand of hair behind Lia's ear and whispered something about how lucky she felt. Lia had smiled, but even then, there had been a shadow. A countdown neither of them dared name.
"You think leaving hurt less than trying?" Lia asked now, stepping close enough that Ffion could smell her perfume—jasmine and rain. "It didn't."
"I know."
"Then why are you here?"
"Because I couldn't stay away," Ffion said. "I kept seeing you in every away match, every city. I heard your laugh when my room got too quiet. I missed you like hell, and I didn't know how to fix it."
"You can't fix it." Lia's voice trembled. "You broke something when you left without saying goodbye."
"I know," Ffion repeated. "But I'm not asking you to pretend it didn't happen. I'm asking if there's any part of you that still believes in us."
Lia shook her head slowly. "You're asking a lot."
"I know that too." Ffion's throat tightened. "But I meant it when I said I felt something real. And if there's even a flicker of that left in you—"
Lia didn't let her finish. "Don't put this all on me."
Ffion blinked. "I'm not."
"Yes, you are." Lia's voice was stronger now. "You disappear, and now you want me to carry the weight of deciding if we're worth trying again? That's not fair."
"You're right," Ffion said, shoulders sagging. "I should've stayed. Or at least said goodbye."
Lia stared at her for a long time. The storm began to ease outside, the rain softening to a drizzle.
"You hurt me," Lia whispered.
"I hurt myself too," Ffion replied. "Every day I didn't call. Every night I wondered if you hated me. And still, all I could think about was your laugh, your stubbornness, your damn playlists. You haunt me, Lia."
Lia's lips quirked. "Still romantic, I see."
Ffion smiled weakly. "You always said I was a mess."
"You are."
They stood there in the half-light, a breath away from something fragile. Ffion reached out, fingertips grazing Lia's hand.
"I don't expect you to forgive me. Not yet. Maybe not ever. But I had to come back. I had to try."
Lia looked down at their hands. She didn't pull away.
"I don't know what this means," Lia said.
"It means I'm here now," Ffion replied. "Not going anywhere."
Another silence. Softer this time.
Lia exhaled. "I kept one of your hoodies."
Ffion chuckled. "Which one?"
"The stupid one with the sheep."
"My Welsh pride."
Lia rolled her eyes. But her fingers laced into Ffion's.
"I don't trust you yet," she said.
"I'll earn it," Ffion promised.
And for the first time in months, they stood side by side—not perfect, not whole, but still tethered by the truth of what they'd shared.
And the hope that maybe, just maybe, it hadn't all been lost.
