#alessia

the sun was just beginning to warm the morning air as your mummy finished tying your boots up tightly for you. you stood swaying from side to side, twisting the hem nervously between your tiny fingers.

you had been up before you usually are, buzzing with excitement, talking nonstop about how your daddy was finally coming to see you play.

alessia, of course not wanting you to see through her slight worry that harrison may not come, tried to be encouraging, forcing a bright smile every time you gushed about introducing him to the whole arsenal squad — the girls having heard a lot about him through alessia and of course you but never bar a few, actually met him.

but deep down there was a weight in her chest. she wanted to believe that harrison wouldn’t let you down — but she knew him all too well, unfortunately.

the arsenal girls had began to gather on the sidelines, all exchanging looks when alessia mentioned harrison was supposed to be coming. they weren’t big biggest fan to say the least but they were there for you. always for you.

the usual little huddle in the middle of the small pitch before the your game started and the whistle blew. you were everywhere, darting up and down the field with your usual enthusiasm.

but every now and then when the ball rolled out of play, you were turning towards the sideline, where your mummy was stood huddled in a long coat and a flask of warm coffee, searching. waiting for his face.

but he wasn’t there.

alessia’s stomach twisted that little bit more as she watched your shoulders slump a little more each time she watched you look over and didn’t see him.

you were still playing, but your usual spark in your movements was dimming. giving away possession which usually players fought so hard to get from you.

there was no joy in your little face. the usual confidence in your kicks faltered and your feet were dragging just that little slower with each minute.

alessia’s heart was aching and there was nothing she could do to fix it. she had told you countless times subtlety to not get your hopes up too much - ‘sometimes daddy gets busy, though’ she had gently told you that morning as she did your hair, kissing you lightly on the top of the head.

but you too excited, just beamed up at your mummy innocently, full faith in the one person who probably definitely didn’t deserve all of it. ‘but he promised me, mummy! he’ll be there.’

and now, as the game went on. alessia watched as the belief was crumbling in real time.

the arsenal girls were all stood cheering, just like they did most saturdays, scattered along the sideline in their oversized hoodies and sunglasses. cheering as if you were playing in a champions league final.

"go on, tiny, get stuck in!" beth yelled, cupping her hands around her mouth.

katie whistled when you made a pass, jumping up to high-five leah. "that’s our girl!"

but you barely reacted.

you weren’t running after the ball like usual. you weren’t looking at your mummy with that same proud little smile whenever you did something good.

your eyes just kept searching the small crowd, your small shoulders curling in on themselves a little more each time you came up empty.

so as halftime rolled in, you were blinking rapidly as your lip wobbled so hard that even the other girls noticed. “less?” leah whispered as she nudged the blonde gently, “what’s going on with tiny?”

alessia’s swallowed hard, shaking her head. trying not to let her emotions spill over in public. “harrison. he said he’d come.”

the girls didn't need any more context than that. "fucking prick," katie muttered under her breath as she shook her head.

"is he serious?" beth scoffed, arms crossed.

"where is he then?" vic asked, already moving towards alexia as if she was ready to call him herself.

“i have no idea,” alessia admitted, pulling out her own phone to check for any messages but there was nothing. just the last text she had sent him hours ago, reminding him the time and location of the match. the text which was still on delivered.

alessia | ‘y/n’s game is at 10:30. she’s really excited for you to watch her play and introduce you to everyone. please, don't let her down.’

he hadn't even read it.

alessia sighed, shoving her phone back into her pocket just as you trudged over to her for a drink, a small pout in your lips.

"hey, baby," she said softly, brushing a hand over your damp curls. "you okay?"

you just sniffled, gripping your arsenal themed water bottle tightly. "daddy’s not coming, is he?"

alessia felt something in her chest shatter at your words, she didn’t want to break your heart anymore than it already was but she also didn’t want to lie to you and say she knew that he’d definitely be coming cause that would just be cruel.

your mummy crouched down to be at eye level with you, brushing a few stray strands of hair out of your face. "i’m not sure, lovie,” your mummy admitted, her voice soft and gentle. “but i do know that i am so proud of you - no matter what.”

you didn't say anything. you just twisted her fingers together and nodded, but alessia could see the hurt settling deep in your little bones.

and when the second half started, you didn't even bother looking at the sideline anymore.

—

the drive home after your match was unbearable.

you had held it together for as long as you could. being a bundle of joy after the win at the end of the game. through the goodbyes of your teammates and the arsenal girls. through alessia’s best effort to keep you distracted.

but the second you both pulled out of the parking lot, the sobs started. loud, gut-wrenching, inconsolable.

"h-he promised," you wailed, your little chest heaving, hands clutching her stuffed elephant like it was the only thing holding you together. "da-daddy said he'd come watch me."

alessia gritted her teeth against the sting in her own eyes, reaching back at a red light to rub soothing circles over your knee. "i know, baby," she murmured. "i know, he did.”

she had no other words. nothing that could take away the hurt sitting heavy in your tiny body. and then, as if the universe was mocking alessia, her phone rang.

harrison.

alessia didn't hesitate before answering, pressing the phone to her ear with a tight grip, her knuckles going slightly white. “where the hell were you?"

there was a pause, it felt long. too long. then rustling. and then a groggy, confused voice—"you what?"

alessia could already feel her pulse hammering in her ears. "y/n’s game, harrison," she bit out, knuckles white against the steering wheel. "you know the one you promised her that you’d be at.”

another pause. longer this time, if that was even possible. and then, his voice, slow and thick with sleep. "what- y/n what- what are you talking about?"

alessia felt something inside her snap.

"are you fucking kidding me?" she hissed, glancing in the rearview mirror at you, as you were still crying into your elephant teddy. "she’s been looking for you all morning. she wouldn't even play properly because she was too busy waiting for you."

alessia could hear rustling again, a muffled groan, like he was shifting under covers. as if he was just now waking up.

"wait," harrison mumbled, still sounding disoriented. "what time is it?"

alessia let out a bitter laugh. "it’s nearly noon."

silence. then, sluggish and slurred— "fuck."

alessia clenched her jaw. she knew that tone. it wasn’t her first time hearing it from him. the thick, hungover rasp of someone who had gone out the night before and hadn't thought about anyone but himself.

she could picture it perfectly—the headache, the dry mouth, the too-late realization. but nothing could have prepared her for what came next.

a slow inhale.a groggy exhale. and then— "whose y/n?—"

the car felt too small, too hot. alexia’s stomach twisted as the words echoed in her ears. for a moment, she couldn't even speak.

had she misheard him? had he actually just said that?

more shuffling. a frustrated sigh, like she was the one inconveniencing him. "alessia, fuck, i’ve just woke up, alright? i know—"

she hung up before he could finish. the sound of the call ending felt deafening in the silence that followed.

alessia could barely breathe. barely think. because that? that was unforgivable.

she had expected an excuse. maybe some half-assed apology. some bullshit about how he lost track of time or how he got caught up at work with something important.

but this? he had forgotten her. not just the game. not just the promise. he had forgotten his own daughter. your name hadn't even registered in his mind.

alessia felt sick.

her hands trembled against the steering wheel, a bitter taste rising in the back of her throat. she wanted to turn the car around, wanted to find him and scream in his face. ‘how fucking dare you?’ ‘how could you forget her?’ ‘how could you do this to her?’

but she didn't. because you were still in the backseat and you were still crying, in fact you were sobbing.

"mummy," you whimpered, voice hoarse from all the sobbing.

alessia immediately reached back again, blindly searching for her little hand, giving it a soft squeeze. "i’m here, baby."

the sniffles didn't stop, but they slowed just a little. "did daddy say why he didn't come?" alessia’s throat tightened. she could lie. tell you something soft, something that wouldn't make the wound deeper.

but then she thought about that phone call. the drowsy confusion. the careless, ‘whose y/n?’

no, she wasn’t going to protect him. she had for far too long. alessia took a slow breath. "he forgot, sweetheart," she said, voice gentle but honest. "i’m so sorry."

you let out another quiet sob. "s-so daddy doesn't love me."

alessia’s chest caved. "no, no, baby, that's not true."

but you just shook her head, clutching your elephant tighter. "he doesn’t, if he did, he would've come."

---

Introduction

Summer always arrives differently when there’s a major tournament.

It’s not just the heat, or the cities filling with flags. It’s the feeling of stepping into something that won’t repeat itself in quite the same way. Every camp, every hotel, every training session carries a different weight when time is limited.

For Charlotte Gilabert, Euro 2022 wasn’t a promise.

It was a confirmation.

She had grown up in the same club her entire career, wearing blue and red, learning to play glued to the left wing, understanding football as space, rhythm, instinct. England was something else entirely: a different tactical language, a different energy, a different way of living together.

And, above all, it was the only place where she shared a team with Alessia Russo.

They had never been club teammates.

They had never shared a locker room beyond call-ups, friendlies, and tournaments.

But every time they crossed paths, something fit too easily to be ignored.

The Euros were about to begin.

And with them, everything neither of them knew they were waiting for.

---

Chapter 1 — Arrival

The airport is loud, but I move on autopilot.

Backpack over my shoulder, headphones on without music, passport in hand. Familiar faces appear in the distance—tired smiles, quick greetings, half-formed jokes. Camp starts long before you actually arrive.

"Gilabert."

I look up. Aggie is walking toward me, dragging her suitcase like it weighs more than it should.

"I thought you’d be late" she says.

"Never for this"

"Liar" she replies "but it sounds nice"

We laugh as we head toward the exit together. The team bus is waiting outside. Some of the girls are already on board, others talking with staff.

I get on and pick a seat without overthinking it.

"Mind if I sit?" a voice asks.

Alessia is there, pointing at the empty seat beside me.

"Of course"

She sits down and lets her head fall back against the seat for a second.

"I hate traveling" she says.

"And that’s without doing the Barcelona trip"

"Complainer" she smiles "How are you?"

"Good. Ready to start"

"Same.

We don’t talk for a few minutes. The bus pulls away. The scenery slowly changes outside the window.

"Ready for Sarina to squeeze us from day one?"she asks suddenly.

"She always does" I answer "It works"

"That’s what they say" she murmurs "Though I think she’s harder on you"

"Oh yeah?"

"She watches you a lot"

"That’s because I’m charming under pressure"

She laughs, turning slightly toward me.

"I don’t doubt it"

---

The hotel is surrounded by green. Quiet. Almost too perfect.

Room assignments go quickly. Aggie and I are together. She drops onto her bed the moment we walk in.

"Euros" she says "Who would’ve thought"

"You, probably" I reply "You always say it"

"And I’m always right"

We change for the first light training session of camp. Nothing intense—just ball work, mobility, contact.

On the pitch, Sarina is clear from the start.

"This tournament is won in the details" she says "And it starts today"

The ball moves quickly. I feel light. I switch sides when asked, try crosses, combine. I don’t force anything—and maybe that’s why everything flows.

In a small-sided drill, Alessia finds space between the lines. I lift my head and play it first time.

Goal.

"Nice" she says as she passes me.

"You were exactly where you needed to be"

"I always am" she replies seriously for a second… then smiles.

By the end of training, the tiredness feels good. The kind that doesn’t weigh you down.

As we walk back, Ella Toone falls into step beside us.

"Okay" she says "I need to know if you two always play like that or if it’s just today"

"Like what?" I ask.

"Like you’ve known each other forever"

Alessia and I glance at each other for a brief moment.

"Probably practice" she says.

"Probably" I repeat.

But when I lie in bed that night, I know it’s not just that.

The Euros are only just beginning.

And something else is too.

----