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It had been four days since the gala, since the arrest, since the breakup that had shattered her entire world.

Four days of barely eating, barely sleeping, barely functioning.

Four days of Julia and Clara taking shifts staying with her, making sure she didn't do anything drastic, making sure she showed up to this moment even though every instinct was screaming at her to run.

Four days of looking like absolute shit.

Because she did look like shit. She knew she did. Had seen herself in the mirror this morning and barely recognised the person staring back.

Her face was pale and drawn, dark purple circles under her eyes from four nights of maybe three hours of sleep total, her cheekbones more prominent than they should be from four days of forcing down maybe one meal per day when Julia insisted.

Her hair was clean at least, washed this morning in a mechanical routine, but she'd just pulled it back in a messy ponytail, hadn't bothered with any product or styling, couldn't summon the energy to care what she looked like.

Her training kit hung loose on her frame, her body already showing the effects of not eating properly, of stress and grief doing what they always did to her ADHD metabolism, burning through reserves and leaving her gaunt and fragile looking.

She looked exactly like someone whose world had ended four days ago.

Looked exactly like someone who was barely holding themselves together.

Looked exactly like someone who probably shouldn't be here, shouldn't be trying to do professional athletics, shouldn't be pretending to function when they were clearly falling apart.

But she'd promised Julia she would try.

Had promised she would show up before making any decisions about leaving, about transferring, about running away from everything.

So here she was.

Seven minutes before training.

Still sitting in her car.

Still unable to make herself move.

Through the windshield she could see other players arriving, parking, heading into the building. Saw Patri and Claudia walk past together, laughing about something. Saw Aitana arrive on her bike. Saw Mapi's distinctive car pull in three spots over.

And then she saw Alexia.

Saw her captain arrive in her own car, parking in her designated spot, and Jay's breath caught in her throat because Alexia looked worse than Jay did.

So much worse.

Alexia had always been athletic, perfectly proportioned for football, but she looked almost frail now, her training kit hanging off her frame in a way that suggested significant weight loss in just four days, her shoulders hunched, her movements slow and careful like everything hurt.

Her face was pale, almost grey, dark circles under her eyes that were even more pronounced than Jay's, her hair pulled back in a simple bun that looked like it had been done without looking in a mirror, without caring how it looked.

She looked like she hadn't slept in four days.

Looked like she hadn't eaten in four days.

Looked like she'd been crying for four days straight.

Looked destroyed.

And some terrible part of Jay felt viciously satisfied seeing that, seeing Alexia suffer, seeing evidence that breaking Jay's heart had consequences, that betraying Jay's trust had cost Alexia something too, that Jay wasn't the only one falling apart.

But a bigger part of Jay just felt sick.

Felt her chest constrict with worry despite everything.

Felt the automatic urge to go to Alexia, to check on her, to make sure she was okay, three years of habit and love and care overriding the hurt and anger and betrayal.

She watched Alexia walk toward the building, moving slowly, carefully, like someone who was running on empty, who was barely functioning, who was forcing themselves to be here just like Jay was forcing herself to be here.

And Jay realised with sudden clarity that they were both disasters.

Both barely holding on.

Both trying to function when they were clearly in no state to do so.

The clock on her dashboard changed to 7:58am.

Two minutes.

She had to go in.

Had to stop hiding in her car.

Had to face this even though every part of her was screaming that she couldn't, that this was too much, that seeing Alexia up close was going to destroy the fragile composure she'd managed to construct over the past four days.

She took a deep breath, forced her hands to release the steering wheel, grabbed her bag from the passenger seat, and opened the car door.

The Barcelona morning was warm and sunny, completely at odds with the darkness inside her, and she walked toward the building on legs that felt unsteady, like she'd forgotten how to move properly, like her body was unfamiliar territory.

The moment she walked through the doors, conversations stopped.

People turned to look at her, expressions shifting from normal morning greetings to shock and concern and pity, clearly taking in her appearance, clearly seeing how much weight she'd lost, how exhausted she looked, how completely wrecked she was.

"Jay," someone said, maybe Ona, she wasn't sure, wasn't fully processing, just moving on autopilot toward the locker room.

She didn't respond, didn't make eye contact, just kept walking, kept moving, got to the locker room and went straight to her cubby, started changing into her training kit with mechanical movements, not looking at anyone, not engaging with the whispered conversations happening around her.

Alexia was already there, already changed, sitting in her cubby with her head down, staring at her phone, and Jay felt the impact of being in the same room as her like a physical blow, felt her chest tighten, felt her breathing go shallow, felt panic starting to claw at her throat.

She couldn't do this.

She couldn't be in this space.

Couldn't breathe this air.

Couldn't exist in the same room as the person who'd destroyed her.

But she'd promised to try.

So she finished changing, laced up her boots with shaking hands, grabbed her water bottle, and followed the team outside to the training pitch.

The morning session was supposed to be light, recovery work after their last match, some tactical drills and small sided games, nothing too strenuous.

But for Jay it felt like the hardest physical challenge of her life.

Every drill that required her to interact with Alexia, every tactical setup that put them near each other, every moment of proximity felt like agony, like torture, like something designed specifically to break her.

And Alexia was clearly struggling just as much.

Jay could see it in the way she moved, slow and careful and not with her usual fluid grace. Could see it in the way she couldn't quite meet Jay's eyes when they ended up near each other. Could see it in the tension in her shoulders, the tightness in her jaw, the careful control she was maintaining over her expression.

They were both falling apart on this pitch.

Both barely functioning.

Both pretending to be professional when they were clearly anything but.

An hour into training, Pere, one of the assistant coaches, approached Jay, his expression apologetic.

"Jay, can you come with me?" he asked in Spanish. "Joan and Jonatan need to speak with you. In Joan's office. It's about the incident at the gala."

Jay's stomach dropped.

Of course. Of course they wanted to talk about that. About her pushing a major sponsor. About causing a scene. About the arrest even though she'd been cleared. About the mess she'd created.

"Now?" she asked, her voice coming out rough, unused from four days of barely speaking.

"Yes, now," Pere confirmed. "I'll tell Jonatan you're coming."

Jay nodded, set down her water bottle, and walked toward the building, feeling everyone's eyes on her, feeling the weight of their concern and curiosity and pity.

She passed Alexia on the way, close enough to catch the scent of her shampoo, close enough to hear her breathing, close enough to see the dark circles under her eyes up close, and it took every ounce of self control Jay had not to stop, not to reach out, not to check if Alexia was okay.

But she kept walking.

Kept moving.

Made it to Joan Laporta's office where both he and Jonatan were waiting, expressions serious but not angry, concerned more than disappointed.

"Jay," Joan said, gesturing to a chair. "Please, sit down. We need to discuss what happened at the sponsor gala."

The meeting with Joan and Jonatan was exactly as uncomfortable as Jay had anticipated.

They'd been professional about it, calm and understanding given the circumstances, acknowledging that Miguel's behaviour had been completely inappropriate, that his assault of Alexia was unacceptable, that Jay's reaction had been understandable even if not ideal.

But they'd also been clear that pushing a major sponsor, regardless of provocation, regardless of the situation, created problems for the club, created complications with sponsorship relationships, created a mess that the communications department was still cleaning up.

"We understand you were defending Alexia," Joan had said, his hands folded on his desk, his expression sympathetic but firm. "We understand you saw her being assaulted and you reacted. Any partner would have done the same. But Jay, we need you to understand that there are proper channels for these situations. Security. Club officials. Legal recourse. You cannot simply attack sponsors, even ones who behave inappropriately."

"I didn't attack him," Jay had said, her voice flat and tired. "I shoved him away from her. Once. That's not an attack. That's removing a threat."

"I understand the distinction," Joan had acknowledged. "But the optics, the publicity, the police involvement... it created a situation. A situation we've managed to contain, but one that could have been avoided with different choices."

They'd talked for thirty minutes about proper protocols, about expected behaviour at club events, about the importance of maintaining professional relationships with sponsors even when those sponsors behaved badly.

Jay had sat there, nodding mechanically, agreeing to everything, signing some paperwork that acknowledged she'd been counseled about appropriate conduct, that she understood club expectations, that she wouldn't repeat the behaviour.

She didn't tell them that she'd do exactly the same thing again if someone touched Alexia inappropriately.

Didn't tell them that protecting Alexia was more important than sponsor relationships.

Didn't tell them that given the same circumstances, the same assault, the same violation, she'd shove Miguel away a hundred times over regardless of consequences.

She just signed the papers, agreed to their terms, accepted their light reprimand, and was about to be dismissed when the screaming started.

Distant at first, from outside, from the direction of the training pitch.

Then closer, louder, frantic and scared and urgent.

"HELP! SOMEONE HELP!"

"GET THE MEDICS!"

"CALL AN AMBULANCE!"

Joan and Jonatan both stood immediately, moving toward the door, Jay following on instinct, her heart already racing, already knowing something terrible had happened even though she didn't know what.

They rushed outside, following the sound of screaming, and Jay saw the whole team clustered in one area of the pitch, saw players kneeling, saw panic and chaos and someone on the ground not moving.

And she knew.

Even before she got close enough to see.

Even before someone moved and she could see the dark hair, the Barcelona captain's armband.

She knew.

Alexia.

Alexia was on the ground.

Not moving.

Jay's brain short circuited, her legs moving before conscious thought could catch up, running across the pitch, shoving through the cluster of players, dropping to her knees next to where Alexia lay unconscious on the grass.

Her face was pale, almost grey, her eyes closed, her chest rising and falling but barely, shallow breaths that looked wrong, looked insufficient, looked like someone whose body was shutting down.

The team medics were already there, checking vitals, calling for an ambulance, talking in urgent Spanish that Jay's panicked brain couldn't quite process.

"What happened?" Jay asked, her voice coming out strangled, looking at Mapi who was kneeling on Alexia's other side with tears streaming down her face. "What the fuck happened? She was fine. She was training. What..."

"She just collapsed," Mapi said, her voice shaking. "We were doing a drill and she just... she went down. Like her legs stopped working. She fell and she did not get up and we thought maybe she twisted something but then she was not responding and her eyes rolled back and Jay, she is not waking up. She is not waking up and I do not know what to do."

Jay looked at Alexia's face, at the woman she loved more than anything despite everything that had happened, and felt terror unlike anything she'd ever experienced.

This was worse than the arrest.

Worse than the breakup.

Worse than any pain she'd felt in the past four days.

Because this was Alexia unconscious and not responding and something clearly very wrong with her body, with her health, with her ability to function.

"Alexia," Jay said, taking her hand without thinking, without caring who saw, without caring about professionalism or boundaries or the fact that they were broken up. "Baby, please. Please wake up. Please be okay. Ale, come on, open your eyes. Please."

But Alexia didn't respond, didn't move, just kept breathing those shallow insufficient breaths while Jay's world collapsed around her for the second time in four days.

The ambulance arrived within minutes, paramedics rushing onto the pitch with equipment and urgent questions, and Jay had to move back, had to let them work, had to watch from a few feet away as they checked Alexia's vitals, as they talked in rapid medical Spanish, as they prepared to transport her.

"What's wrong with her?" Jay demanded, her voice breaking, looking at the head medic. "What's happening? Why won't she wake up?"

"Her blood pressure is very low," the medic explained quickly, in accented English for Jay's benefit. "Her heart rate is irregular. Signs of severe dehydration and malnutrition. When did she last eat? When did she last drink water?"

Jay stared at him, realising with horrifying clarity that she didn't know, had no idea, hadn't been taking care of Alexia because they were broken up, because Jay had been too focused on her own pain to think about Alexia's health, because she'd been so angry about the betrayal that she hadn't considered the consequences of that betrayal for Alexia.

"I don't know," she admitted, the words feeling like a confession of failure. "I don't know. We're not... we haven't been..."

"She has not been eating," Irene said, stepping forward, her captain voice firm and clear. "The past four days. She has not been eating or sleeping. We have tried. The team has tried. But she will not eat. She will not sleep. She just trains and works and pushes herself and now this. This is what happens."

The medic nodded grimly, understanding immediately, and they loaded Alexia onto a stretcher with practiced efficiency, preparing to transport her to the hospital.

"I'm going with her," Jay said immediately, moving to follow, needing to stay close, needing to be there, needing to make sure Alexia was okay.

But Irene caught her arm, held her back gently but firmly.

"No," she said, her voice kind but definitive. "Jay, no. You are too emotional. You are falling apart yourself. You cannot go in the ambulance. You will only make things more difficult."

"She's right," Mapi added, appearing at Jay's other side. "Jay, you can barely stand. You are crying so hard you cannot breathe. You cannot help her right now. Let the medics do their job. We will call Eli. We will call Alba. They will meet her at the hospital. You can go after. In your car. When you are more calm."

"I can't just let her go alone," Jay protested, watching the paramedics wheel Alexia toward the ambulance, watching the woman she loved being taken away unconscious and fragile and so clearly unwell. "I can't. What if... what if something happens? What if she gets worse? What if she needs... what if..."

"Then her family will be there," Irene said gently. "Eli and Alba will be there. They will take care of her. You can come after. You can see her at the hospital. But not like this. Not when you can barely function yourself."

Jay watched the ambulance doors close, watched it pull away with lights flashing, and felt her knees give out, felt herself collapse onto the grass where Alexia had been lying just moments before, felt sobs tearing through her chest so violently she thought she might break apart entirely.

Because this was her fault.

Alexia had collapsed because she hadn't been eating or sleeping.

Because she was destroyed by what had happened between them.

Because Jay hadn't forgiven her, hadn't talked to her, hadn't checked on her, hadn't made sure she was taking care of herself.

Because Jay had been so focused on her own pain that she hadn't considered Alexia might be suffering just as much, might be falling apart just as completely, might be neglecting her basic needs in favor of grief and guilt and self-destruction.

Mapi and Irene sat down on either side of her, providing silent support, letting her cry, not trying to fix it or make it better because there was no making this better, there was only surviving it.

"I need to go to the hospital," Jay finally managed to say through her tears. "I need to see her. I need to make sure she's okay. Even if she doesn't want to see me. Even if her family tells me to leave. I need to know she's okay."

"Then go," Irene said gently. "Go now. Drive safely. We will stay here and handle things. We will explain to the coaches. We will take care of everything. You go take care of Alexia."

Jay nodded, pushed herself to standing on it shaky legs, and ran toward the parking lot, toward her car, her hands trembling so badly it took three tries to get the key in the ignition.

The drive to the hospital was a blur of tears and panic and traffic that felt deliberately designed to keep her from getting there, from seeing Alexia, from making sure the woman she loved was still breathing.

She parked illegally in the emergency bay, didn't care about tickets or towing, just ran inside, still in her training kit, her hair still in a messy ponytail, tears still streaming down her face.

"Alexia Putellas," she gasped at the reception desk. "She just came in by ambulance. I need to see her. Please. I need to know if she's okay."

The receptionist looked at her with sympathy and concern.

"Are you family?" she asked in Spanish.

"I'm her..." Jay started, then stopped, realising she didn't know how to finish that sentence anymore. "I'm... we're... I need to see her. Please. Please tell me where she is."

"The waiting room is down the hall," the receptionist said kindly. "Her family is already there. You can wait with them. The doctors will come out when they have information."

Jay followed the directions on numb legs, turned a corner into the waiting room, and stopped short when she saw who was there.

Eli, Alexia's mother, pacing near the windows, her face pale and scared.

Alba, Alexia's sister, sitting in a chair with her head in her hands.

And they both looked up when Jay entered, both stared at her with expressions Jay couldn't quite read, and Jay felt her stomach drop because they probably hated her, probably blamed her for this, probably wanted her to leave.

"I'm sorry," Jay said immediately, the words tumbling out. "I know you probably don't want me here. I know this is my fault. I know Alexia collapsed because of me, because of what happened between us, because I wouldn't talk to her and she was suffering and I should have checked on her, I should have made sure she was okay, I should have..."

She was cut off by Eli crossing the room and pulling her into a tight hug, and that's when Jay realised Eli was crying, her body shaking with sobs, holding Jay like she was precious, like she was important, like she was family.

"Mija," Eli said through her tears, her voice thick with emotion and accent. "Mija, this is not your fault. This is not because of you. This is because my daughter made a terrible mistake and she has been punishing herself for it. She has not eaten. She has not slept. She has been making herself sick with guilt. This is what she does. This is how she hurts herself when she thinks she has hurt someone she loves. This is not your fault."

But Jay knew it was.

Knew that if she'd just answered one of Alexia's calls, just read one of her texts, just let her explain, just given her any indication that forgiveness was possible, then maybe Alexia wouldn't have destroyed herself like this.

"She's lost without you," Alba said quietly, looking up at Jay with red rimmed eyes. "She has been lost for four days. She does not eat because food makes her sick with guilt. She does not sleep because she dreams of losing you. She barely functions. And we have tried. We have tried to help her. But she will not listen. She will only hurt herself more. Because she thinks she deserves to hurt for what she did to you."

Jay felt fresh tears streaming down her face, felt the weight of this crushing her completely.

"I didn't know," she whispered. "I didn't know she was this bad. I didn't know she was making herself sick. I should have checked. I should have... someone should have told me. Julia should have told me. Someone should have..."

"No one wanted to put more pressure on you," Eli said gently, pulling back to look at Jay's face, at the evidence of her own suffering written all over her features. "You have been suffering too. You have been hurt too. No one wanted to make you feel guilty for not forgiving her when what she did was so terrible. But Jay... my daughter loves you. She loves you so much she is destroying herself because she hurt you. And I do not know how to help her. I do not know how to make her take care of herself. I do not know how to bring her back from this."

Jay didn't know what to say to that, didn't know how to process this information, didn't know how to reconcile her anger and hurt with the knowledge that Alexia was suffering just as much, was destroying herself with guilt, was literally making herself sick because of what she'd done.

They waited in tense silence, Eli holding Jay's hand, Alba pacing where Eli had been pacing before, all of them staring at the door where doctors would eventually emerge with information.

After what felt like hours but was probably only forty minutes, a doctor finally appeared, clipboard in hand, expression serious but not grave.

"Family of Alexia Putellas?" she asked in Spanish.

"Yes," Eli said immediately, standing up. "I am her mother. This is her sister. This is her..." she hesitated, looked at Jay, seemed uncertain how to define her.

"I'm her girlfriend," Jay said, the words coming out automatically even though they weren't true anymore, even though Alexia had ended it, but she needed to be able to hear the medical information, needed to know what was wrong, needed access to see Alexia if possible.

"Girlfriend," Eli confirmed, nodding.

The doctor looked at her clipboard, then back at them.

"Alexia has severe dehydration and malnutrition," she explained in clear Spanish that Jay's panicked brain was managing to process. "Her electrolytes are dangerously imbalanced. Her blood sugar was critically low. Her blood pressure is unstable. She fainted because her body is essentially shutting down from lack of proper nutrition and rest. We have her on IV fluids now, replenishing what her body needs, but she will need to stay here for observation. At least overnight, possibly longer depending on how she responds to treatment."

"Can we see her?" Eli asked.

"She is awake now," the doctor said. "Still very weak, but conscious. You can see her briefly. But she needs rest. She needs to not be stressed or upset. She needs calm. Can you provide that?"

"Yes," Eli promised. "We will be calm. We will not upset her. We just need to see her."

The doctor nodded and led them down a hallway to a private room where Alexia was lying in a hospital bed, IV lines in her arm, monitors beeping softly, looking so small and fragile in the large bed that Jay felt her heart break all over again.

Alexia's eyes were closed, her face pale against the white pillow, dark circles under her eyes, and she looked exactly like someone whose body had been shutting down, whose system had been failing, whose suffering had become physical and dangerous.

Jay hung back, let Eli and Alba go to the bed first, let them take Alexia's hands, let them murmur soft reassurances in Spanish, and she stayed by the door, uncertain if she should be here, uncertain if Alexia would want to see her.

But then Alexia's eyes opened, found her family first, then tracked across the room to where Jay was standing, and something in her expression cracked when she saw Jay there.

"Amor," she breathed, the word barely audible, and fresh tears started streaming down her face. "You came. You are here. I did not think... I did not think you would come."

And Jay felt something in her chest splinter completely, felt the anger and hurt warring with love and worry and desperate need to make sure Alexia was okay, felt every wall she'd constructed over the past four days threatening to collapse entirely.

"Of course I came," Jay said, her voice rough and broken. "Ale... of course I came."

For a long moment, nobody moved.

Alexia was staring at Jay with tears streaming down her face, looking at her like she was something precious and lost that had suddenly reappeared, like she couldn't quite believe Jay was actually there, actually standing in this hospital room after four days of silence and refused calls and unanswered texts.

Jay was frozen by the door, her own tears falling freely now, her hands clenched at her sides to keep from reaching out, from going to Alexia's bedside, from touching her the way every instinct was screaming at her to do.

Because Alexia looked so fragile in that hospital bed, so small and pale and sick, connected to IVs and monitors, looking like someone who'd been systematically destroying themselves for days, and Jay's protective instincts were warring violently with her hurt and anger and the very real betrayal that still sat heavy in her chest.

Eli seemed to sense the weight of the moment, the importance of what was about to happen, and she gently squeezed Alexia's hand before standing up.

"Alba and I will go get coffee," she said quietly, looking at both of them. "We will give you time to talk. But Alexia, you need to stay calm. The doctor said no stress. No getting upset. You need to rest and let your body heal. Do you understand?"

"Sí, Mamá," Alexia said, not taking her eyes off Jay. "I understand."

Eli kissed her daughter's forehead, then walked to where Jay was still standing by the door, and she pulled Jay into another brief hug, whispering in her ear.

"She loves you so much, mija. Whatever happens here, whatever you decide, please remember that. She loves you. She made a terrible mistake, but she loves you."

Jay nodded against Eli's shoulder, not trusting herself to speak, and then Eli and Alba were leaving, the door closing softly behind them, and Jay was alone with Alexia for the first time since the gala, since the arrest, since everything had fallen apart.

The silence stretched between them, heavy and loaded with four days of pain and grief and words unsaid, and Jay still couldn't make herself move closer, couldn't make herself cross the space between the door and the bed, couldn't quite bridge the gap that felt both enormous and impossibly small.

"You look terrible," Alexia said finally, her voice hoarse and weak but tinged with that familiar concern, that automatic worry for Jay that had been present through their entire relationship. "Guapa, you look... have you been eating? Have you been sleeping? You have lost weight. Your face is so thin. Your eyes..."

"You're one to talk," Jay said, and her voice came out rougher than she intended, harsher, carrying all the emotion she was trying to contain. "You're in a hospital bed, Ale. You collapsed on the training pitch. You're on IVs because you haven't been eating or sleeping. You're here because you made yourself sick. So maybe don't lecture me about taking care of myself when you clearly haven't been taking care of yourself at all."

Alexia flinched slightly at the words, at the anger underneath them, but she didn't look away, didn't break eye contact, just kept staring at Jay with those dark eyes that were filled with guilt and grief and so much love it was almost painful to see.

"You are right," she said quietly. "I have not been taking care of myself. I have not been eating. I have not been sleeping. I have been destroying myself with guilt because I hurt you. Because I made the worst mistake of my life. Because I looked at the person I love most in the world and I did not trust you. And I could not... I could not function knowing what I did. Knowing how badly I hurt you."

"So you decided to starve yourself?" Jay asked, and now she did move closer, anger giving her the momentum to cross the room, to stand at the foot of Alexia's bed, her hands gripping the metal railing. "You decided to make yourself sick? To not eat, not sleep, to push yourself until your body literally shut down? That was your solution?"

"I did not decide anything," Alexia protested weakly. "I just... I could not eat. Food made me sick. Every time I tried, I would think about what I did to you and my stomach would hurt and I could not swallow. And I could not sleep because every time I closed my eyes I saw your face when the police were taking you away. I saw how you looked at me. I saw the hurt and the betrayal and the devastation. And I would lie there and it would replay over and over and I could not make it stop. So I just... I stopped trying. I stopped trying to eat or sleep. I just trained. I just worked. I just tried to exhaust myself enough that maybe I would not feel it anymore. But it did not work. It just made everything worse."

Jay stared at her, at the woman she loved looking so fragile and broken, and felt her anger warring with concern, with the automatic urge to take care of Alexia, to make sure she was okay, to fix this even though Jay wasn't the one who'd broken it, wasn't the one who'd caused this crisis.

"You can't do that," Jay said, and her voice was shaking now, emotion cracking through the anger. "You can't destroy yourself because you feel guilty. You can't make yourself sick to punish yourself for hurting me. That's not... that doesn't fix anything, Ale. That just creates more problems. More pain. More people worrying about you. Your family is terrified. Your team is terrified. And I..."

She stopped, the words catching in her throat, unable to finish that sentence, unable to admit how terrified she'd been when she saw Alexia on the ground, when she'd watched the ambulance take her away, when she'd driven to the hospital convinced something terrible had happened.

"And you?" Alexia prompted gently, reaching out slightly like she wanted to take Jay's hand but didn't dare, didn't know if she was allowed. "Jay, please. Please tell me. And you what?"

"And I was terrified," Jay admitted, the words coming out broken and raw. "I saw you on the ground and I thought... I thought something terrible had happened. I thought you were dying. I thought I was going to lose you completely, not just lose the relationship but lose you from the world, and Ale, I couldn't... I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. All I could do was run to you and hope you were okay and when you didn't wake up I felt like my world was ending all over again."

Fresh tears were streaming down Alexia's face now, her hands twisting in the hospital blanket, her chest rising and falling with shaky breaths.

"I am so sorry," she said, and her voice was wrecked, destroyed, carrying the weight of four days of grief and guilt. "Amor, I am so sorry. For all of it. For the gala. For not trusting you. For breaking up with you while you were being arrested. For not listening. For not giving you a chance to explain. For assuming the worst. For making you feel like I thought you were violent. For destroying everything we built together. For hurting you so badly. I am so, so sorry."

"I know you are," Jay said quietly, and she finally did reach out, took one of Alexia's hands in her own, felt the familiar warmth, the familiar fit of their fingers together, and had to fight against the urge to crawl into that hospital bed and hold Alexia until everything made sense again. "Julia told me she talked to you. Told me you know now. About my childhood. About what happened in the care homes. About why your accusation was so... why it hurt so much more than maybe it would have hurt someone else."

"She told me," Alexia confirmed, her fingers tightening around Jay's. "And Jay, I did not know. I swear I did not know it was that bad. I knew you had trauma. I knew you did not trust men. I knew you had walls and reasons you could not talk about. But I did not know about the abuse. About the assaults. About you trying to protect the younger children. About you getting hurt while trying to stop others from being hurt. If I had known... if you had told me... I would never have..."

"But I didn't tell you," Jay interrupted, and there was something almost defeated in her voice. "I didn't tell you because I couldn't. Because putting words to that trauma is too hard. Because even thinking about it makes me feel like I'm drowning. Because I've spent years in therapy trying to process it and I still can't fully articulate what happened to me. So I didn't tell you. And because I didn't tell you, you didn't have the full picture. You didn't understand what violence means to me. What being called violent would do to me. And that's... that's partially my fault. For keeping those walls up. For not being brave enough to be fully vulnerable with you."

"No," Alexia said firmly, shaking her head despite the movement clearly making her dizzy based on how her eyes closed briefly. "No, bebe. This is not your fault. You do not owe anyone your trauma. You do not have to relive your worst experiences in order to deserve trust from someone who claims to love you. I should have trusted you anyway. I should have known your character. I should have believed in you even without knowing the full story of your past. That is what love is supposed to be. Trust. Faith. Believing in someone even when the evidence looks bad. And I failed you. I failed to do that. And that failure is mine. Not yours."

Jay was quiet for a long moment, processing this, trying to reconcile Alexia's words with the voice in her head that kept insisting this was Jay's fault for not being open enough, for not being vulnerable enough, for not being enough.

"Julia told you what I said, didn't she?" Jay finally asked. "About knowing this would happen eventually. About knowing you'd leave once you saw how broken I am."

"She told me," Alexia confirmed, more tears falling. "And Jay, that is not what happened. I did not leave because I saw your broken parts. I did not leave because I decided you are not worth loving. I did not leave because I think you are too damaged or too much or not enough. I left because I was scared and traumatised and I reacted badly in a moment of crisis. I made a terrible split second decision that I have regretted every moment since. But it was not because I stopped loving you. It was not because I saw the real you and decided to go. It was just... a mistake. A terrible, unforgivable mistake. But a mistake. Not a judgment of your worth. Not a decision that you are not good enough. Just... a moment of cowardice and fear that I wish I could take back."

"But you can't take it back," Jay said, and her voice was gentle but firm, stating a truth they both had to accept. "You can't undo what you said. What you did. How you looked at me. The words 'we're done' are out there now. They exist. They were said. And I can't... I can't unhear them, Ale. I can't forget what it felt like to hear you say that. To watch you end three years in thirty seconds. To see you look at me like I was a monster. That's permanent. That's damage that can't be erased with apologies."

Alexia was sobbing now, her whole body shaking with the force of it, and the monitors started beeping more insistently, her heart rate elevating, her stress levels rising, and Jay immediately softened, moved closer, used her free hand to wipe tears from Alexia's face.

"Hey," she said gently. "Hey, you need to calm down. The doctor said no stress. You need to rest. You need to let your body recover. We can talk about this, but you need to breathe. You need to stay calm. Okay?"

"How can I stay calm?" Alexia asked desperately. "How can I be calm when I have destroyed the best thing in my life? When I have hurt you so badly? When you are standing here telling me that what I did cannot be fixed? How do I survive that, Jay? How do I live knowing I lost you because of my own fear and stupidity?"

"I didn't say it can't be fixed," Jay corrected carefully, still wiping Alexia's tears, still touching her gently despite everything. "I said the damage is permanent. That's different. Permanent damage doesn't mean irreparable. It just means... changed. Different. Not the same as it was before. We can't go back to what we had. We can't pretend this didn't happen. But that doesn't mean we can't build something new. Something different. If we both want to. If we both choose to."

Alexia looked up at her with something like hope flickering through the devastation.

"Do you want to?" she asked, her voice small and scared. "Do you want to try to build something new? Or are you... are you telling me this is over? That we are done? That there is no coming back from this?"

Jay was quiet for a long moment, trying to process her own feelings, trying to understand what she actually wanted versus what she thought she should want, trying to separate her hurt and anger from the love that was still there underneath it all, still present despite the betrayal, still making her heart ache every time she looked at Alexia.

"I don't know," she finally admitted honestly. "Ale, I don't know. I love you. That hasn't changed. Even after everything that happened, even after how much you hurt me, I still love you. I've spent four days trying not to love you and I can't do it. I can't turn it off. I can't make it stop. But love isn't enough. Love doesn't fix broken trust. Love doesn't erase what you said or what you believed about me or how you made me feel."

"I know," Alexia said quietly. "I know love is not enough. I know I have broken something that might not be fixable. But bebe... I want to try. If you will let me. I want to spend however long it takes proving that I trust you. That I believe in you. That I will never make that mistake again. I want to earn back what I destroyed. Even if it takes years. Even if it is hard. Even if I have to work for it every single day. I want to try. Because you are worth fighting for. Because what we had was worth fighting for. Because I cannot imagine a future that does not have you in it."

Jay felt her own tears starting again, felt her chest tightening with the weight of this moment, with the enormity of what they were discussing, with the question of whether forgiveness was possible, whether trust could be rebuilt, whether they could find their way back to each other after this.

"I need time," she said finally, the words coming out careful and measured. "I need time to heal. To process what happened. To work through this with Clara. To figure out what I actually want instead of just reacting to the pain. I need time before I can make any decisions about us. About what happens next. About whether we can actually rebuild this."

"How much time?" Alexia asked, and there was desperation in her voice but also understanding, acceptance that she didn't get to control this timeline, that Jay got to take as long as she needed.

"I don't know," Jay admitted. "I don't know how long it will take. I don't know if it will be weeks or months or longer. I just know that right now, I'm too hurt and too angry and too devastated to make good decisions. If we tried to go back to how things were right now, I would just be angry all the time. I would resent you. I would hold this over you. And that's not fair to either of us. That's not a healthy relationship. So I need space. I need distance. I need time to heal before we can even think about rebuilding."

"Space," Alexia repeated, and the word seemed to physically hurt her. "You mean... you mean we stay broken up? We stay apart? We do not live together anymore?"

"I think I need to stay at my apartment for a while," Jay said gently. "Not at our place. Not where everything reminds me of what we had. I need my own space. My own place to process this. Distance that lets me think clearly instead of just reacting emotionally all the time."

"Okay," Alexia said, though her voice was shaking. "Okay. You stay at your apartment. You take time. You heal. I understand. But Jay... are we... are we back together? Or are we still broken up? I need to know. I need to understand what this is."

Jay took a deep breath, knowing this was the question that mattered most, the one that would define everything going forward.

"You tell me," she said carefully. "You're the one who ended it. You're the one who said 'we're done.' So you tell me. Are we done? Or was that something you said in a moment of panic that you didn't actually mean?"

"I did not mean it," Alexia said immediately, urgently. "I did not mean it at all. I was scared and traumatised and I was not thinking clearly and I said terrible things I regret with my whole heart. I do not want to be done. I have never wanted to be done. I want you. I want us. I want everything we had and everything we could have. I want forever with you if you will still have me."

"Then we're not done," Jay said quietly. "Not if you don't want to be. Not if you take back what you said that night. But we're also not... we're not back to normal. We're not back together the way we were. We're in this weird in between space where we're figuring things out. Where I'm healing and you're healing and we're both trying to understand if we can rebuild what was broken."

"What does that mean practically?" Alexia asked, clearly trying to understand the parameters, trying to know what was allowed, what was expected, what the rules were for this strange new reality they were navigating. "What does in between look like... because I am confused amor."

Jay thought about this for a moment, trying to articulate something she hadn't fully figured out herself yet.

"It means I stay at my apartment," she said slowly. "It means we're not living together right now. It means we both take space to work on ourselves, to heal, to process what happened. But it doesn't mean we don't talk. It doesn't mean we pretend the other person doesn't exist. It means... maybe we text. Maybe we call some nights when it feels right. Maybe we see each other at training and we're professional but also kind. Maybe we slowly rebuild connection in small ways instead of trying to jump back to where we were before everything fell apart."

"I want it to be on your terms," Alexia said firmly, her hand still holding Jay's, her thumb rubbing small circles on Jay's palm. "Whatever you need bebe. Whatever pace you need to go. Whatever boundaries you need to set. I will follow your lead. I will give you whatever space you need. I will wait as long as it takes. I just need to know that waiting is not hopeless. That there is a possibility of us finding our way back to each other eventually."

"I never wanted to break up," Jay said, and her voice cracked on the admission. "That's the thing you need to understand, Ale. I never wanted this. I never wanted us to end. Even when I was so hurt and angry that I couldn't talk to you, even when I was refusing your calls and not reading your texts, even when I was talking to Julia about transferring to another team... I never actually wanted to leave you. I never wanted to lose you. I just didn't know how to survive the pain of staying."

"And now?" Alexia asked quietly. "Now do you think you can survive staying? Even if it hurts? Even if it is hard?"

"I think I have to try," Jay said. "Because running away won't fix this. Transferring to another team won't make the hurt go away. Julia was right about that. The pain is inside me. It's not about Barcelona or the training ground or seeing you every day. It's about trust being broken and trying to figure out if it can be repaired. And I can't do that from England or France or wherever I might run to. I can only do that here. With time. With space. With both of us working on it."

"But you need time," Alexia confirmed, making sure she understood, making sure she got this right.

"I need time," Jay agreed. "And right now, if I tried to rush back, if I tried to just forgive you immediately and move back into our apartment and pretend everything is fine... I would be so angry, Ale. I would be angry all the time. Every time I looked at you I would remember what you said. Every time you touched me I would remember how you looked at me that night. Every time we had any kind of disagreement I would throw this back at you. And that's not fair. That's not healthy. That's not the relationship either of us deserves."

"So we are not together," Alexia said, and it wasn't quite a question, more a statement seeking confirmation, trying to understand the reality they were creating.

Jay hesitated, trying to find the right words for what this was, this strange liminal space between broken up and together, between over and healing, between ended and maybe someday okay.

"I need time to myself," she finally said. "I'm not looking for anyone else. I can't even think about anyone else. You're still the person I love. You're still the person I want. But I need time. I need space. I need to heal the parts of me that you hurt before I can be in a relationship with you again. Does that make sense?"

"It makes sense," Alexia said, though tears were still flowing freely. "It hurts. It is not what I want. What I want is for you to climb into this bed with me and hold me and tell me everything will be okay and we will go back to how things were before I destroyed everything. But I understand that is not possible. I understand you need time. I understand we cannot rush this."

"Maybe the distance will help," Jay said, trying to convince herself as much as Alexia. "Maybe having space will let us both heal without constantly hurting each other. Maybe not being together all the time will give us room to work on ourselves instead of just reacting to each other's pain."

"Si," Alexia agreed, latching onto this, onto the hope that distance might actually be constructive rather than just painful. "Si, maybe it will help. Maybe I can work on understanding why I reacted the way I did. Why I did not trust you. Why I let fear override everything I knew about you. And maybe you can work on healing from what I did. On processing the betrayal. On deciding if you can forgive me."

"And we text," Jay said, establishing parameters, creating structure for this in between space. "We call some nights when it feels right. We don't disappear from each other's lives. We don't go back to four days of silence. We just... we take it slow. We rebuild connection gradually instead of all at once."

"We text and call," Alexia repeated, committing this to memory. "We talk when it feels right. We do not disappear. We are not strangers. We are just... two people who love each other trying to figure out if they can survive what happened."

"Exactly," Jay said, and she squeezed Alexia's hand, feeling some small measure of relief that they had a plan, that there was structure to this uncertainty, that they weren't just floundering in undefined pain. "We're two people who love each other. Who hurt each other. Who are trying to heal. And maybe that healing leads back to us being together. Or maybe it doesn't. But either way, we're being honest about it. We're not pretending. We're not rushing. We're just... taking it one day at a time."

"I can do that," Alexia said, and there was determination in her voice now, mixing with the grief and guilt. "I can take it one day at a time. I can give you space. I can be patient. I can wait. I am good at waiting when I know what I am waiting for is worth it. And you are worth it, bebe. You are worth waiting for. You are worth fighting for. You are worth everything."

"You need to take care of yourself though," Jay said firmly, looking pointedly at the IV in Alexia's arm, at the hospital bed, at the evidence of what happened when Alexia stopped eating and sleeping. "You can't do this again. You can't destroy yourself with guilt. You can't make yourself sick to punish yourself. If we're going to try to heal, if we're going to try to rebuild, you need to be healthy. You need to eat. You need to sleep. You need to take care of yourself even when you feel terrible. Can you do that? Can you promise me you'll take care of yourself?"

"I will try," Alexia said. "It is hard. Food still makes me feel sick when I think about what I did. But I will try. I will force myself to eat. I will make myself sleep. I will take care of my body even when my heart is breaking. Because you are right. I cannot fix anything if I am in a hospital bed. I cannot work on us if I am falling apart. I need to be healthy. I need to be strong. I need to be able to function. So I will try. I promise I will try."

"Your family will help," Jay said. "Eli and Alba. They're terrified for you. They've been watching you destroy yourself for four days. Let them help. Let them take care of you. Don't push them away."

"I will not push them away," Alexia promised. "I will let them help. I will let Mamá feed me. I will let Alba make sure I sleep. I will accept their care even when I feel like I do not deserve it. Because you are right. I need help. I cannot do this alone."

They were quiet for a moment, both processing this conversation, both trying to adjust to this new reality they'd created, this strange space where they loved each other but weren't together, where they were healing but separately, where the future was uncertain but at least there was a path forward instead of just darkness and pain.

"I'm scared," Alexia admitted quietly, her voice small and vulnerable. "I am scared that you will take time and you will realise you are better off without me. That the healing will show you that you deserve someone who trusts you immediately, who does not fail you when things get hard, who does not make terrible mistakes that break your heart. I am scared that distance will make you see that you should leave. That you should find someone better. Someone who does not hurt you like I hurt you."

"I'm scared too," Jay confessed, matching Alexia's vulnerability with her own. "I'm scared that I'm too broken to forgive you. That the damage is too deep. That even with time and space and therapy I won't be able to trust you again. I'm scared that I'll try and I'll fail and I'll have to walk away anyway and it will hurt even more than it does right now. I'm scared that loving you isn't enough to overcome what you did."

"But we try anyway no?" Alexia asked, hope and fear mixing in her expression.

"We try anyway," Jay confirmed. "Because the alternative is giving up. And I'm not ready to give up yet. I'm hurt and I'm angry and I'm devastated. But I'm not ready to give up on us. Not yet. Not without at least trying to see if we can rebuild."

"I love you," Alexia said, the words coming out fierce and certain despite her tears. "I love you so much, Jay. I love you and I am sorry and I will spend however long it takes proving that I trust you, that I believe in you, that I will never fail you like that again."

"I love you too," Jay said, and it felt like a confession and a promise and a wound all at the same time. "That's why this hurts so much. Because I love you. Because you're the person I want forever with. Because losing you feels impossible. But Ale... loving you and trusting you are two different things right now. And I need time to figure out if I can do both again."

"Then take the time," Alexia said. "Take all the time you need. I will be here. I will be waiting. I will be working on myself and taking care of myself and proving that I am worthy of a second chance. And whenever you are ready, whatever you decide, I will accept it. If you decide you can try again with me, I will be grateful and careful and I will treasure it. And if you decide you cannot forgive me, that the damage is too much, I will accept that too. I will let you go even though it will destroy me. Because you get to choose. This is your choice. Your terms. Your timeline bebe."

Jay nodded, feeling tears streaming down her face again, feeling the weight of this conversation settling into her bones, changing her, reshaping her understanding of what came next.

"I should go," she said quietly, though she didn't want to, wanted to stay here in this hospital room where at least they were talking, at least they were connecting, at least they weren't in the painful silence that had defined the past four days. "You need to rest. You need to let your body recover. And I need to... I need to process all of this. I need to sit with what we just decided. I need to figure out what healing actually looks like."

"Will you text me?" Alexia asked, that small vulnerable question carrying so much weight. "Tonight? Tomorrow? Will you let me know you are okay? Will you let me be part of your life even from a distance?"

"I'll text you," Jay promised. "Maybe not tonight. I need a day to just... sit with everything. But soon. I'll text you soon. And you text me too. Let me know how you're doing. Let me know when they release you from the hospital. Let me know you're eating and sleeping and taking care of yourself."

"I will," Alexia promised. "I will text you. I will show you I am trying. I will show you I am taking care of myself. I will show you that you can trust me with at least that, even if you cannot trust me with your heart yet."

Jay leaned down, hesitated for just a moment, and then pressed a gentle kiss to Alexia's forehead, feeling Alexia's sharp intake of breath, feeling the way she leaned into the touch like she was starving for it.

"Heal, Ale," Jay said softly against her skin. "Get better. Take care of yourself. And I'll... I'll see you at training. When you're back. When you're healthy enough."

"See you at training," Alexia repeated, and she was crying again but there was something like hope in her expression now, something that hadn't been there before this conversation, before they'd established that maybe, possibly, with time and work and healing, they might find their way back to each other.

Jay straightened up, looked at Alexia one more time, memorising this moment, this feeling, this strange combination of pain and hope and love and hurt, and then she turned and walked to the door.

"Jay," Alexia called out just as Jay's hand touched the door handle.

Jay turned back, looked at her.

"Thank you," Alexia said, her voice thick with emotion. "Thank you for coming. Thank you for talking to me. Thank you for not giving up completely. Thank you for giving us a chance even though I do not deserve it. Thank you for loving me even when I hurt you. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Jay said quietly. "But Ale... you need to stop saying you don't deserve it. You made a mistake. A terrible, hurtful mistake. But you're not a monster. You're not unworthy of love or forgiveness or second chances. You're just human. We're both just human. Trying to figure this out. Trying to heal. So stop punishing yourself like you're irredeemable. Okay?"

Alexia nodded, more tears falling, and Jay gave her one last small sad smile before opening the door and stepping out into the hallway.

Eli and Alba were sitting in the waiting room, both looking up anxiously when Jay appeared, clearly trying to gauge from her expression what had happened, whether things were better or worse, whether there was hope or just more pain.

"She's okay," Jay said, answering the question they hadn't asked yet. "Emotionally I mean. We talked. We... we're figuring things out. We're not back together but we're not completely done either. We're just... taking time. Healing separately. Trying to see if we can rebuild."

"That is good," Eli said, standing up and pulling Jay into another hug. "That is better than nothing. That is hope. And hope is important."

"She needs to eat," Jay said firmly, pulling back to look at Eli seriously. "She needs to sleep. She needs to take care of herself. She promised me she would try but I need you to make sure she actually does it. I need you to watch her and feed her and make sure she doesn't destroy herself again. Can you do that?"

"I can do that," Eli promised. "I will take care of my daughter. I will make sure she eats. I will make sure she sleeps. I will make sure she is healthy. You focus on taking care of yourself. You focus on your own healing. Let me handle Alexia."

Jay nodded, feeling some of the weight lift off her shoulders, knowing that Alexia had people who loved her, who would care for her, who would make sure she survived this even when she didn't want to take care of herself.

"I need to go," she said. "I need to... I need to be alone for a while. I need to process everything. But text me when they release her. Let me know she's okay."

"I will," Eli promised. "And Jay? Thank you. Thank you for not giving up on her. Thank you for giving her a chance to earn back what she lost. Thank you for loving her even when she made it so hard to love her."

Jay managed a weak smile, gave both Eli and Alba brief hugs, and then walked out of the hospital into the Barcelona afternoon, into sunshine that felt too bright and air that felt too clear and a world that had shifted somehow in the past few hours, had gone from completely broken to maybe, possibly, with time and work and healing, fixable.

She sat in her car for a long time before starting the engine, just breathing, just existing, just trying to process everything that had happened, everything that had been said, everything that came next.

She'd promised to try.

They'd both promised to try.

And maybe that was enough for now.

Maybe trying was all they could do.

The rest would have to wait for time and healing and the slow painful work of rebuilding trust that had been shattered.

But at least now there was a path forward.

At least now there was hope.

At least now they knew what they were working toward, even if they didn't know if they'd ever actually get there.

Jay started her car, pulled out of the hospital parking lot, and drove back to her apartment, back to the space that was hers alone, back to the healing that would be long and hard and painful but necessary.

And somewhere behind her, in a hospital room, Alexia lay in bed crying and hoping and promising herself she would be worthy of the second chance Jay was offering, would prove that she could be trusted, would show that love and time and effort could rebuild what fear and trauma had destroyed.

They were broken.

Both of them.

But maybe broken things could be repaired.

Maybe shattered trust could be slowly, carefully, painfully rebuilt.

Maybe love was enough, given time and space and work.