Chapter 22

Alexia

The silence of my apartment felt oppressive, a stark contrast to the electric, chaotic energy that always followed Jenni Hermoso like a trailing storm. She was sitting on my sofa, looking entirely too comfortable with a glass of red wine in her hand, while I paced the length of the floor like a caged animal.

“You’re going to wear a hole in that rug, Ale,” Jenni remarked, her voice maddeningly calm.

I stopped, turning to face her. “Why did you talk to her, Jenni? I told you, I have it under control. I’ve talked to Mapi. Aurora and I… we reached an agreement. We’re being careful.”

“Careful?” Jenni let out a dry, short laugh. “You were ‘careful’ for ten years. Look where that got us. You’re vibrating, Alexia. You’re so tight I’m surprised you didn’t snap in half during the tactical drill.” She leaned forward, her expression softening. “I talked to her because I wanted to see if she was just another person who bowed down to the ‘Queen’. She isn’t. She told me to mind my own business and that she doesnt takes orders from someone who lives in Mexico.”

I froze. A tiny, traitorous spark of pride flickered in my chest. That’s my Ora. But I quickly buried it under a layer of frustration. “She’s upset. And now she’s the one shutting me out. It’s always been me—I’m the one who builds the walls. But today… today she looked at me like I was just another teammate. It’s driving me insane.”

“It’s called jealousy, Ale,” Jenni said simply. “She sees us. She sees the history. And instead of you reassuring her, you barked at her for ninety minutes on the pitch.”

“I didnt do that! She was the one who ignored me the entire time!” I snapped, my voice echoing off the high ceilings.

Jenni stood up, walking over to me. She placed a hand on my shoulder, the weight of our shared years heavy between us. “You’re so afraid of the ‘architecture’ collapsing that you’re forgetting to actually live in the building. You’re trying to manage her like a contract, but she’s a person.”

After Jenni left, the apartment felt even emptier. I poured myself a glass of water I didn’t drink and stared out at the lights of Barcelona. My mind drifted back to last night. The smell of garlic and basil. The flour on her cheek. The way she had looked at me when I told her I was tired of the math.

Everything had felt so simple in that kitchen. No cameras, no Jenni, no Captain’s armband. Just us.

I had been so determined to show her that she mattered. I wanted to prove to her that I could be the person she needed. I wanted to tell her that I…

I stopped, my heart doing a slow, terrifying roll.

I love her.

The thought hit me with the force of a physical blow. I leaned against the kitchen counter, the same way I had at Aurora’s, but this time I was alone. It wasn’t a tactical decision. It wasn’t a variable I could solve. It was a terrifying, undeniable fact.

I, Alexia Putellas, was in love with the rookie midfielder who had dragged me into the ocean.

I know that it is and it will be difficult. Very difficult. But as I looked at my phone, seeing no messages from her, the weight of the day returned. Since Jenni had arrived, Aurora had pulled back. The ‘Italian steel’ I admired was now a shield held against me.

I had spent my whole life being the one who decided the distance. Now, for the first time, Aurora was the one holding the line. And it was agonizing.

I picked up my phone, my fingers hovering over her name. I wanted to tell her. I wanted to explain that Jenni was the past and she was the only thing I saw in the future. But the ‘Captain’ in me hesitated.

What if I’m wrong? What if the storm is too much for her?

No. I couldn’t let her stay in the dark. Not after I promised I wouldn’t.

I didn’t text. Instead, I grabbed my keys. I didn’t care about the cameras, the staff, or the gossip. If I was going to be ‘The Standard,’ then I was going to set the standard for fighting for what mattered.