Lines We Cross - Alexia Putellas

One. Lessons Unlearned

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"How do you feel?"

A scoff rung out through the spacious room, disappointed eyes fell onto Veronica Castellano—whose body sat straight on the leather chair, but the clenching of her fingers and sweat building upon her brow implied the anxiety running through her body.

"What do you think?" It wasn't a surprise to the man that sat across from the footballer when she defensively snapped back, accustomed to the way she would close up with such a vast question.

"I think that you're relieved that you'll be leaving Paris," He smiled with almost a sorrowful undertone, as his eyes fell over the screwed-up expression that belonged to Veronica.

"It won't be long till I'll hate there too."

Now, if there was anyone that was close to the Castellano woman, it was common knowledge she was a natural pessimist, not allowing herself—or others—to see the bright side of life.

"Maybe you won't," He smiled catching the attention of Veronica, whose lips straightened at his gentle expression, "Maybe you'll meet people that will make you stay."

The idea of that almost caused another scoff to fall from her lips, thinking of the women who she would soon meet—and they would realise who she was, and why she was the way she was.

Almost as if he knew what the footballer was thinking, the deeper voice spoke out again—bringing Veronica out of her mind for a moment.

"You're allowed to meet people, Veronica." He reminded the woman, thinking back to all of their sessions before and how he said to same thing to her every time, "You're allowed to try again, and move on."

So, maybe her therapist didn't know the entire story of why Veronica Castellano fell off from the face of the Earth for a year, but she didn't believe he was entitled to know that part of her soul, her story. But he knew that she had been broken, and his mission had been to fix her—under the strict instructions of her parents, back in Felanitx.

"I know, it's just..." Veronica shut her eyes, relaxing her shoulders and sinking back into the chair, trying to recollect all of her thoughts before replying, "Do I deserve to?"

The therapist sighed wistfully at the question, worried for his client whom he had been seeing for the past two months—in that time, he hadn't found out much but what he did know was that Veronica Castellano was a broken woman.

And that's all she thought she would be.

"Have you packed all of your bags?" He questioned, sending that Veronica no longer wished to speak about the past—and the athlete noticed this, smiling appreciatively.

"Daan is packing it as we speak. She... hasn't stopped  crying." Veronica said with guilt, thinking of her small friend from Lyon—they had been close since the Dutch woman came to France, despite their different teams.

"She's going to miss you."

Veronica smiled sadly at that, "Is it wrong to feel guilty that I'm happy to leave? Even though I'm hurting so many people."

"Of course not, Veronica." The therapist spoke with a gentle tone, careful not to set the short-tempered athlete—from past experiences, "Are you saying you'd be willing to sacrifice your own happiness for someone else's?"

Silence ensued between them, and Veronica didn't dare to meet his eyes—instead looking out of the wide windows, that looked over the skyline of the homes of Paris, the dark silhouette of the Eiffel Tower in the very distance.

Would she stay in Paris to make her friends happy?

Would she torture herself just to tend to others?