imbalance | trent alexander-arnold¹

one.

adieu

25/07/18

When the french player woke up in the morning for practice, she couldn't help but feel a bit down. Normally, as childish as it sounds, the thought of kicking a ball around on freshly trimmed grass got Wynter's heart beating with content, an overwhelming joy overcoming her whenever she realised that other people's athletic dreams were her reality.

After what had taken place over the summer, Wynter never failed to smile at the memory as she knew it would guide her to new opportunities—ones in which that got her excited yet made her anxious as she had yet to encounter them face-to-face.

After Wynter won the World Cup with France's male NT, she knew that for the next season she will receive deals from multiple clubs, whether they were in France or not. However, she didn't know that the campaign to retrieve her athletic talents would be so competitive that it would grab the attention of clubs like Barcelona or Juventus. It sent her eyebrow-raising as she didn't understand why all these clubs were so interested in her but nonetheless, the young footballer never took it for granted.

Wynter let out a yawn, taking her time to get out of bed. She still had an hour or so to get ready and the drive to the training grounds wasn't that far from her parents' house, so she wasn't in a rush to arrive early. She found herself on her feet within a few seconds as they slowly lead her towards her bathroom.

Within twenty minutes, she was out of the bathroom showered, moistured and her natural hair pulled back into a short ponytail. Wynter had recently removed the braids that she had for the World Cup, planning on letting her hair relax during the preseason. Wandering around the room, Wynter collected up any necessaries that she needed and packed it away in her branded training bag. When she felt satisfied with her bag and her room's state, she exited her bedroom and made her way down the stairs.

Dropping her training bag by the front door, the gentle lyrics from the hymn Ta Reine naturally rolled off the french girl's tongue as she strolled towards the kitchen where she hoped to find her mother. Upon hearing her voice on the phone, Wynter halted her singing, attempting to listen in on her mother's conversation.

"Yes, yes. My client and I agree with the deal. By the way, tell your associates that I don't want this coming out until she's officially apart of the team. . . So when does she need to be in Liverpool? In the next two days? Alright, no problem. We'll see you then." Her mother ended the call and set the phone down. When she noticed her daughter's presence, her wrinkleless face brightened. "Hey, Winnie. I didn't realise that you were awake."

"Yeah well, with everything going on it's all kind of hard to ignore," Wynter admitted, sitting at the kitchen table. She folded her arms in a mature manner. "So, where's dad and Nate?"

You see, the young footballer wasn't just purely french. Wynter and her older brother, Nate inherited American blood from their dad, Reed. Their father obviously supported her career in football. However, as he was indeed American, he had an interest in American leagues like the NBA, basketball being his childhood sport. And so with the immense help from his wife, he was able to get Nate drafted in the NBA. The basketball player joined the NBA five years ago and now, he's twenty-five years old.

Of course, Wynter supported her brother's career as he supported her though as his job was in the US, it was harder for them to see each other on their own terms. Nate also had his wife and three kids in California so that also intervened slightly with his travelling schedule.

"They went down to the basketball court. Well, more your father wanted to go down while your brother wanted to sleep some more." Claire rolled her eyes, knowing her husband way too well.