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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The room was shrouded in a gentle dimness, indicating infrequent use. The blinds were drawn, and the furniture was sparse. Alexia stood leaning by the window, attempting to regain the rhythm of her breathing. Elena cautiously pushed the door ajar, maintaining the room's sanctuary as she found it, shielding the blonde from the swarm of journalists outside.
"Hello," she whispered softly near Alexia.
"Hello," she replied with subdued energy. Elena, without uttering a word, leaned against the windowsill on her right side. "Was it that bad?"
"They've all left," she responded calmly. Then, remembering the recent events, she swallowed hard. "I think, in the end, I'm the one who will become the news. Sorry for stealing your spotlight."
Alexia let out a bitter laugh. "It's okay."
In a comfortable silence, the Asturian took a moment to assess the state of the former footballer, who seemed to have transformed anxiety into sadness. Alexia was aware of the significance of letting Elena in, both literally and metaphorically. She felt frustrated with herself for needing help, for not being able to handle it on her own, without that solid ground that had hurt her so much. It was a matter of pride for Alexia, to respect herself, to maintain pride in the face of someone who had made her suffer for so long, in such a cruel way, even if it sometimes seemed like a mirage of what it had been.
"How are you?" Elena inquired.
"Better," she replied nonchalantly. "I'm fine, I guess. Just lost my composure a bit."
"As your PR director, if I may say, it's entirely justifiable," Elena shrugged. "Anyone would have reacted the same way."
"I shouldn't have let it happen to me."
Elena rolled her eyes. Then, she offered a smile. "Don't start."
Alexia smiled too. "I made a bit of a fool of myself."
"Anyone would have felt overwhelmed," she downplayed. "Especially if you don't like talking about these things. I'm sorry you found yourself in this position."
"It's not your fault," she sighed. "It's the federation's."
"But I chose you for NOVA."
The blonde nodded silently. Perhaps Elena was not aware that she had known that from the beginning, even before accepting. Certainly, she didn't know that this had been the reason she had ultimately agreed. Among many others, of course.
"That's true," Alexia acknowledged. She was eager to ask the real reason. She had her answer: "because you're the best," but she wanted to know why, after so many years, Elena had decided that it was time to contact her. There were other influential people in NOVA, perhaps people who might have vouched for her, but Elena had insisted. "It's all your fault."
Elena nodded gracefully. "I accept that." Her chest felt tight. Her proximity to the asturian, both physically and mentally, made Alexia feel in a different way, one that she recognized as the scent of innocence, of home. And that weighed heavily, weighed a lot. "You haven't told Martina about me."
