It's the year 2027. After the ligament operation, Alexia's recovery, which initially seemed very promising, was marred by one complication after another. Time, slow recuperation, and age eventually distanced her from professional football.
Although...
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Elena greeted as she entered, cheerful as always. She had made an unprecedented effort to maintain a smile on her face when entering work, just like the day before and the day before that. Sleep was elusive. She slept clinging to her daughter, unable to sleep alone or reconcile sleep with the present idea of losing her.
David hadn't returned home, hadn't called her. She hadn't heard from her mother either, and that was what worried her the most. She had thought about changing her phone number, but she knew that sooner or later she would have to contact him. Her daughter would ask about him, and she would have to deal with the divorce paperwork. Her mother wouldn't let it be, and the fact that she hadn't heard from her yet made her suspect that she wasn't taking it lightly.
The dark circles under her eyes were noticeable, and the steaming coffee from the nearby shop in her hand made them even more striking, as if she wanted to tell the whole world that she hadn't slept in at least a week. She also knew that her daughter had heard many things in that argument about which she hadn't asked yet, but it surely left her quite confused. She was acting strange, distant, but at the same time, needy. She didn't like being alone; she always ended up coming to her bed in the middle of the night (something Elena appreciated), but enjoyed being accompanied without being bothered, in silence.
She knew she was digesting it, that she needed some time and probably help, but she wanted to give her a few days to let what had happened settle before facing talking about it with a stranger. She could endure a few days of sharing space in silence while her daughter read a book and she advanced her work for the next day.
Despite all that, she was trying by all means to hold on to the reason that was helping her keep a smile on her face as she entered the elevator of the building and walked through the office corridors, greeting those she crossed paths with. And the reason was simple: she was good, very good at her job.
In the past few weeks, she had visited no less than sixteen important sports executives, making them supporters of what was happening with NOVA and telling them about the benefits of supporting the revolution in the federation from its inception. She had obtained support both in influence and monetary terms. She was at her best. She had received several calls from the team congratulating her, thanking her; she had never felt so useful, so necessary.
Many things had happened. The first NOVA leak had taken place. Embezzlement, fraud, corruption. It had been exposed along with the corresponding evidence, generating again a multitude of criticisms for the president of the federation. It had been commented on in national and international press, social media, and talk shows.
They had remained silent. Nothing more. It was what they had always done, what worked. And the organization knew it and expected it. They didn't expect to overthrow the federation with a couple of corruption cases like others they had been splashed with before, but they wanted to point them out, revive doubts, and above all, scare them, make them feel uneasy. The waters were calm now, but who among them knew if they could stir again at any moment.
