pazzi devotee

The only light comes from the kitchen, casting a soft glow over Nora’s face as she sleeps, her brow slightly furrowed, because even in rest, her mind refuses to fully let go of the day’s exhaustion. Azzi squeezes the bridge of her nose, willing away the dull headache that’s been building behind her eyes all evening. For a moment, she just stands there, listening to the soft ticking of the clock on the wall and debating whether to just nestle into the couch with Nora.

But the smell of Thai infiltrates her senses and her brown eyes flicker to the bags of food on the counter. She smiles, remembering Nora said she’d bring dinner and must have fallen asleep waiting for her to get off the phone.

Azzi decides to let her exhausted girlfriend rest while she sets up dinner. After grabbing plates, napkins, and silverware, Azzi pours two glasses of red wine and carefully balances everything as she heads to the couch. She nearly spills some wine when leaning over to set the plates down, but she simply rubs the droplets into the wooden floor with the bottom of her black ankle socks.

Sinking onto the couch, she gently runs her fingers through Nora’s soft brown waves. She exhales slowly, fatigue humming in low thrum beneath her skin, but she welcomes the momentary relief of just sitting still. It’s been go, go, go lately, and Azzi’s shoulders ache from the day, and the lingering tension of too many emotions coiling tight at the base of her neck.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Azzi murmurs.

Nora snuggles in closer, pressing a few soft kisses against Azzi’s side before lifting her head to take in the spread before her. She wipes the sleep from her hazel eyes and sits up to make room for Azzi.

“Hey, you,” Nora says mid-stretch before reaching for a glass of wine.

Azzi loads up a plate for Nora with all her favorites before handing it over and asking how her day was.

Nora sits up and takes it with a grateful smile before shoveling a forkful of pad Thai into her mouth. “Exhausting,” she gets out around a mouthful of Pad Thai. “I haven’t eaten since last night.”

Azzi watches her for a moment, admiration flickering in her eyes. She knows how hard Nora works and is endlessly proud of how dedicated she is to her patients.

“Well, I think what you do is amazing.”

Azzi offers a small smile before leaning back on the couch, her plate resting in her lap. She nuzzles into Nora’s side, and they eat in comfortable silence for a while, the only sounds being the soft clink of silverware against plates.

Eventually, Nora breaks the silence. “How is Paige holding up?”

The interest in her voice is clear, and Azzi sighs, shaking her head.

Setting her plate down and stacking Nora’s empty one on top of it, Azzi picks up her wine glass, swirling the deep red liquid as she contemplates where to even begin.

“Not good. It was a pretty ugly scene.”

Nora nods solemnly. “I can imagine. I can’t even comprehend what she must be feeling. With Noah to take care of, there’s no time to even properly grieve. Poor thing.”

Azzi considers telling Nora about stepping in to take care of Noah earlier that morning, about the tough love she had to give Paige to snap her out of it, but that would open doors she’d rather keep closed. Especially about how she used her own heartbreak over Lucina to reach Paige. Azzi doesn’t know why, but she can’t bring herself to broach the subject with Nora. It’s not that she doesn’t trust Nora, but talking about Lucina means reopening wounds that have finally begun to scar over. Azzi isn’t sure she’s ready for that. They’ve talked about exes, but always in a casual way. Maybe it’s best to keep it that way.

Taking a slow sip of wine, Azzi lets the warmth loosen the tension in her chest. The image of Paige on the closet floor, shattered and unreachable, flashes in her mind. She swallows hard and sets her glass down, careful not to let her fingers tremble.

“Yeah,” Azzi admits, keeping her tone even. “I’ll need to keep an eye on her. I was pretty worried today.”

Nora’s expression shifts, something that Azzi can’t get a read on flashing across her face. Azzi watches as her girlfriend takes a sip of wine, eyes thoughtful, yet distant. The look Nora always got when she was working through something in her head.

“So…any word from your agent on that contract talk with Stockholm FC?”

Azzi startles slightly at the question. And then it clicks, and she wonders when Nora actually got there. Had she overheard the conversation?

“Oh,” she squeaks, caught off guard and quickly trying to recover. 

They’ve been in serious talks with a Swedish club for weeks now, and earlier, he had called to tell her they’d agreed to almost all her requests—a furnished apartment, a car, and a higher salary. The only thing they wouldn’t budge on was a clause allowing her to return home for immediate family emergencies. In theory, it should be a simple decision. The contract is everything Azzi wants and needs. 

Azzi’s fingers fiddle with the hem of her shirt. She can feel Nora’s eyes on her, patient but expectant, waiting for an explanation that Azzi isn’t sure she can fully articulate. The words feel heavy in her throat, stuck somewhere between uncertainty and guilt. Finally, she exhales and forces herself to say it.

“Yeah, Max called before you got here,” she says, even though she’s almost certain Nora already knows that from the pointed look she’s getting.

Nora runs a finger along the rim of her glass before lifting it for another sip, watching Azzi over the brim of her glass. “What’d he say?”

“They agreed to almost everything we requested.”

“That’s great!” Nora beamed.

Azzi nodded. “Yeah. But I… I turned them down.”

"Why?" Nora asks, her voice softer this time, like she’s almost worried what the answer will be.

It’s a simple, one-word question, yet Azzi can’t wrap her head around how to answer it. Deep down, she knows why. She knows Paige can’t function on her own right now, that Emma’s absence has hollowed her out, and that she promised to take care of them. But admitting that out loud—to her girlfriend of all people—is a different story. Saying it makes it sound like a choice. That’s the part Azzi struggles with the most.

“I… there’s…”

Nora raises an eyebrow. “Azzi,” she interjects, “we said we’d always be honest.”

Azzi swallows, her gaze dropping to the dark wine sloshing gently in the glass. She knows what Nora is getting at. They both do. This isn’t about not wanting to do long-distance. This isn’t about her career. It’s about Paige.

“There’s too much going on,” Azzi finally says, voice quieter now. “I just… I can’t leave right now.”

She holds her breath, bracing herself for the firestorm she’s been dreading since she made the decision earlier that evening.

But there’s no firestorm. No anger or accusations. Nora just nods, and somehow, that’s worse. The stillness makes Azzi’s stomach twist with guilt because she can’t get a read on Nora’s expression. She can’t tell if she’s hurt, frustrated, or simply resigned.

“Nora,” Azzi tries, but her girlfriend just takes a slow breath, setting her glass down on the coffee table.

"Az, this is your career," she finally says, her voice measured like the one she uses at the hospital. "You don’t know how many more of these chances you’ll get. How many more years you’ll be able to do this."

Azzi exhales, rubbing a hand over her face. She’s known Nora long enough to recognize the way she processes things. She’s not the type to lash out in frustration. No, she’s the type to sit with it, to think before she speaks. That makes this conversation so much harder because Nora is trying so hard to be understanding.

Azzi drums her fingers against her thigh, a restless energy building inside her. It’s not just about the promise she made Emma if she’s being honest. It’s about the way Paige looked at her today, lost and hollow, like she was drowning and had already given up trying to swim. Azzi remembers that feeling all too well. Walking away now would be like turning her back on her own reflection.

"I know," Azzi murmurs, lifting her gaze back to Nora’s, "but I promised her I’d be there. You should have seen her today. She’s my best friend, and Emma was too. It’s only been a week. I can’t just abandon her when she needs me the most. I can always join the team next year."

Azzi shrugs, aiming for casual. She studies Nora’s face, watching as the doctor’s expression softens.

"You’re a good person," Nora says, though there’s something bittersweet behind her words. 

Azzi smiles, but there’s hesitation laced in her expression. She watches Nora carefully, trying to gauge what her girlfriend is thinking. She’s not upset—at least, not visibly—but there’s a hint of doubt that wasn’t there before. Nora shifts slightly, pulling back just enough that Azzi feels the absence, a small space between them.

Maybe Nora saw this coming. Maybe she knew, deep down, that Azzi wouldn’t leave Paige behind under these circumstances. And while Nora has always admired her loyalty, Azzi wonders if, this time, it stings more than it impresses. If it makes her question things in a way she won’t say out loud.

A beat of silence stretches between them, and Azzi feels it settle in her chest. If things were different would she have taken the offer? She doesn’t know. And judging by the fog in Nora’s expression, she’s not the only one asking that question.

“So… you’re not mad?” Azzi asks carefully.

Nora shakes her head, sighing before reaching for Azzi’s hands. Their fingers intertwine, and Azzi feels the warmth of Nora’s touch flood through her body.

"I told you before that I’d support you in whatever you chose, and I meant it," Nora says, giving her hands a light squeeze. "I know you’re smart enough to figure out what’s best for you and the people you love, and I trust your decisions."

Azzi stares at her for a long moment, a slow grin tugging at the corners of her lips. For a brief second, she just admires Nora and the way her beauty runs so much deeper than her features. The way her patience and understanding never waver, even when it would be so easy to let them. It’s a level of understanding that Azzi hasn’t experienced before, and she feels her walls breaking down even more.

"You’re amazing," Azzi murmurs, flashing a toothy, nose-wrinkling grin as she leans in to steal a kiss.

For a fleeting second, three words flicker across her mind, but she shoves them down before they can take hold.

She wants to say them. Maybe she even means them. But love, real love, isn’t supposed to feel like a pull in two different directions, like a tether she’s afraid to cut. Saying it to Nora would mean opening herself up again. Part of her isn’t sure she’s ready for that.

She’s not ready to admit to herself, let alone Nora, how deep her feelings have become. Truthfully, she isn’t sure her heart is a wound she’s ready to open again, especially when something else keeps tugging at it.

 *************

A few days later, Azzi stumbles into Paige’s house and recoils at the sight from the front foyer. Baby toys, clothes, books, and papers are scattered across the floor, couch, and coffee table. The kitchen isn’t in much better shape with takeout boxes, dishes, beer cans, and dirty baby bottles cluttering the once pristine marble countertops. The dim lighting creeping in through the windows casts long, stretched shadows against the mess.

Azzi sighs as she takes in the state of the house. The memory of her own apartment in Germany flashes before her eyes, the way it had fallen apart around her after Lucina left. She shakes the thought away, but it lingers like a ghost in the back of her mind.

“Paige?” Azzi calls out, setting the bags down in the front entryway.

No answer.

She steps further inside, boots nearly crunching over a crumpled sheet of paper on the floor. The silence is louder than it should be. No music playing, no TV in the background, not even the quiet sounds of Noah fussing or cooing. The only sound is the soft creak of the floor beneath her steps as she moves deeper into the house. Her pulse ticks higher.

“Paige?”

Her stomach knots slightly as she heads down the hall, checking each room, until she finds Paige in the nursery. The blonde sits in the recliner in front of Noah’s crib, a half-empty bottle of beer dangling from her fingertips. Her eyes are fixed on the sleeping baby, unblinking, as if afraid that if she looks away, he might disappear.

“There you are,” Azzi says, her voice softer now. She glances at the beer in Paige’s grasp but chooses not to comment.

“Hey.” Paige doesn’t look at her.

Azzi watches her for a beat before stepping forward and grabbing one of the remaining bottles. “Mind if I join?”

Paige lifts the bottle to her lips, taking a slow sip before answering. “Not at all.”

Azzi sinks onto the floor beside the chair, stretching her legs out in front of her as they sit in silence, watching the baby sleep. Noah lies on his back, a tiny fist curled near his face, his chest rising and falling softly with each even breath. His gray onesie, patterned with tiny turtles, has a small drool stain near the neckline. The sight tugs at something in Azzi’s chest, a quiet warmth that momentarily dulls the weight of everything pressing against her ribs.

“Pretty exciting stuff,” Azzi remarks, tipping her beer bottle toward the crib.

“I guess.”

Paige doesn’t elaborate, and Azzi doesn’t push. She knows the blonde will talk when she’s ready.

Minutes pass, stretching in silence, before Paige finally speaks, her voice barely above a whisper. 

“He’s all I have left.”

Azzi turns to her, watching as Paige’s fingers tighten around the bottle in her hands.

“Noah is all I have left of her,” she continues, her words tumbling out now that the floodgates have cracked. “I feel like all my love for Emma got transported into this tiny little body, on top of the love I already had for him. And I can’t bring myself to leave this room. It’s the only place where I can still feel her.”

Azzi listens, her throat tightening as Paige keeps going.

“I can’t pull my eyes away from him, can’t stop holding his tiny hands and kissing his adorable nose and rubbing his little tufts of hair. He’s everything, Az. Absolutely everything.”

Azzi nods, swallowing down the thought forming at the back of her mind. The words Paige speaks are different from what Azzi expected when she first walked in and saw the chaos. She thought Paige had fallen apart completely, that she was no longer able to care for herself or Noah. But it isn’t that. It’s that nothing else matters to her now except the little boy sleeping before them. Paige clinging to Noah like he’s the only thing tethering her to reality can’t be healthy, but it’s a hell of a lot better than where Paige was two days ago, unable to function. So, despite the worry still bubbling up in her gut, Azzi doesn’t say anything. This isn’t perfect, but it’s progress.  

“Well, he is pretty damn cute.” Azzi nudges Paige’s shoulder playfully. “I’d have a hard time not staring at him all day, too.”

Paige exhales, a hint of a smile ghosting across her lips. She looks grateful there’s no judgment being passed her way. “He is, isn’t he?”

“Have you eaten?” Azzi asks after a moment.

Paige shakes her head, her attention still locked on Noah. Azzi doesn’t bother trying to convince her to leave the nursery. Instead, she begins gathering up the empty bottles, glasses, and plates. The half-finished bottle in Paige’s hand is the last to go. Azzi plucks it from her fingers and finishes it in two gulps before setting it aside.

“I’m going to whip something up,” she says, standing. “We can eat in here.”

Paige finally pulls her gaze away from the crib, looking at Azzi properly for the first time that night. Gratitude flickers in her tired blue eyes, though she doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t have to. Azzi knows. And she knows Paige knows, too.

As Azzi sets about making dinner, she quickly realizes the mess is worse than she expected. Dirty dishes crowd the sink, leaving her no space to work, and the lingering scent of stale takeout mingles with the faintest hint of dirty diapers and baby formula. She glances around, taking in the discarded clothes, empty cups, and crumpled napkins scattered across the countertops. She wonders if Paige has always been this messy, and it was masked by Emma’s clean tendencies, or if this is just another symptom of grief. She hopes for the latter.

With a sigh, Azzi shakes open a large white garbage bag and starts tossing out the takeout boxes, dirty paper towels, and wrappers littering the kitchen. The bag fills faster than she anticipated, and she sets it by the back door to take out later before tackling the dishes. A quick check of the dishwasher confirms it’s empty, meaning everything was left on the counter or piled haphazardly in the sink.

Pushing up the sleeves of her Nike quarter-zip, she gets to work. As she scrapes dried food off a plate, Azzi tries not to think about how familiar this feels. How grief has a way of turning even the most put-together people into hollowed-out versions of themselves. She’s been here before, drowning in the wreckage of someone else’s absence. Only this time, it’s Paige’s life in pieces, not hers. 

After rinsing the dishes off, she loads them into the dishwasher. Once the machine hums to life, Azzi tugs open the refrigerator and digs through its contents. She’s relieved to find that Paige’s family stocked the fridge before leaving, though she figures half the food will likely go to waste. Paige, understandably, doesn’t seem to be in a cooking mood. They would have been better off getting her microwave meals. 

Grabbing what she needs, Azzi sets a pan on the stove and dumps in a pound of ground beef, followed by garlic, onion, peppers, and Italian seasoning. The scent of sizzling garlic and onions quickly fills the air as she stirs, letting the rhythmic motion calm her.

While the meat cooks, she surveys the disaster in the living room. She fills two laundry baskets with clothes strewn across the house and hauls them to the mudroom, setting them in front of the washer. With another glance at the stove, she dashes back to the kitchen, stirring the browned beef before pouring in two jars of pasta sauce.

The absurdity of the moment makes her chuckle. Cleaning, cooking, doing laundry. She’s juggling it all like some suburban housewife, and for a brief second, she wonders if Emma is somewhere watching her, doubled over with laughter at the sight of her struggling to hold it all together. The thought stings more than she expected, so she pushes it aside and focuses on finishing dinner.

Once the pasta is drained and mixed with the sauce, Azzi pulls two bowls from the cupboard. She heaps a generous portion into each, making sure Paige’s is extra large. Judging by the half-full Styrofoam containers she tossed earlier, the blonde hasn’t been eating much.

Balancing the bowls, she makes her way down the hall and into the nursery.

Paige has shifted since Azzi last saw her. Now, she’s leaning over the crib, Noah’s tiny fingers curled around one of hers. There’s a peacefulness to the scene that softens something in Azzi’s chest. She almost hates to break Paige from the trance, but they both need to eat.

“Here,” Azzi murmurs, holding out one of the bowls.

Paige blinks at the bowl in Azzi’s hands like she doesn’t quite know what to do with it. There’s a moment of hesitation, before she finally takes it and inhales.

“Smells delicious,” she murmurs, her voice softer now.

She takes the bowl and settles onto the floor, leaving the recliner open for Azzi this time. Before taking a bite, she eyes the brunette with mock suspicion.

“This won’t give me food poisoning, will it?”

Azzi snorts. “You want dinner or not, asshole?”

She shoves a large forkful into her mouth in demonstration, deliberately ignoring the way Paige furrows her brow at the curse word with Noah sleeping nearby.

Paige rolls her eyes but finally digs in. The first bite makes her hum in approval, though that could just be because she hasn’t had a homecooked meal in days.

“This is actually pretty good,” she admits around a mouthful of noodles.

Azzi just grins, pleased that someone appreciates her cooking, even if it’s nothing special.

“What’s even better is that the pigsty you call a house is clean,” she adds. “And I put in a load of laundry for you.”

Paige pauses, lowering her bowl slightly as she looks at Azzi. For a moment, there’s something unreadable in her expression before gratefulness flickers through her crystal-blue eyes. Then, just as quickly, she smirks.

“You touched my dirty boxers?” she whispers in mock horror.

Paige barely has time to react before a stuffed giraffe sails through the air, narrowly missing her head.

“Shut it, Bueckers,” Azzi retorts.

Paige’s laughter rings out, light and effortless, and it’s the best sound Azzi has heard all day. It’s brief, sure, but she hasn’t heard in what feels like forever.

Paige shakes her head, returning her focus to her bowl. “You must really like me, huh?”

Azzi just watches her for a moment before shrugging. “Something like that.”