Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was already late in the morning, on a day that felt like it had been dragging on for hours. The sun slipped in, diffused through half-open blinds, but outside heavy clouds still ruled, dropping quiet, steady rain. Inside, the air carried the faint scent of fresh coffee and toasted bread, leftovers from breakfast.

Viv sat slouched on the couch, a grey hoodie stretched tight across the swell of her belly. Her knees were pulled up, one hand resting on her stomach like she was trying to calm her own body down.

Beth sat at the other end of the couch, elbow propped on the armrest, her head resting heavily in her hand. She was still in her pajama bottoms, staring into nothing.

The TV was on, but muted. A documentary about seals flickered across the screen, the images sliding past unnoticed by either of them.

Viv’s gaze drifted slowly toward Beth.

“What’s going on with you today? You’re… different, somehow.”

Beth blinked, as if she’d only just remembered she was there.

“Nothing. Just tired, I guess.”

With a sigh, Viv let her head fall back against the cushions. She moved slowly, stiffly, like her body had grown heavy. Lifting her legs, she set them deliberately across Beth’s lap.

Beth glanced down but didn’t say anything. Her hand found Viv’s ankle automatically, thumb brushing gently over the fabric of her sweatpants.

“You nervous about later?” Viv asked.

Beth gave her a small smile, one that didn’t quite convince.

“No. It’s just routine, right?”

Viv tilted her head, brows lifting. Something inside her felt warm, but not in a way that was comfortable. She studied Beth for a long moment.

“Routine? This is the appointment, Beth. You know—birth plan, pain relief, who’s allowed in the room…”

Beth gave a look that was far from convinced. “Sounds like a party.”

“Beth…”

Beth dragged a hand through her hair, a small frown carving its way between her brows.

“I know. I’m sorry. My head’s just… not in it today.”

Viv slid her feet out of Beth’s lap and pushed herself slowly upright. She turned toward her, knees brushing lightly against Beth’s leg.

Without a word, she reached out, her hand settling against Beth’s jaw, thumb brushing softly along her cheek. She studied her face, searching for something—anything—that might give her clarity.

“You’re acting strange. Like you’re hiding something.”

Beth’s eyes flickered downward for the briefest moment. She placed her hand over Viv’s knee.

“I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

Viv pulled her hand back slowly, a little startled. This wasn’t like Beth—Beth, who could never keep a secret if it truly mattered.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re more important than whatever’s in my head right now,” Beth murmured, almost whispering.

Viv locked her eyes on hers. “That’s bullshit, Beth.”

Beth looked up again, catching the sharp intensity blazing in her girlfriend’s eyes.

“Maybe. But it’s still true. This is your body. Your delivery. I just want you to feel okay about it. I don’t matter right now.”

Viv’s shoulders sank. She folded her arms around herself, turning her face slightly away.

“I don’t want you keeping things from me. That just makes me… insecure.”

Beth let out a soft sigh and shifted closer, back into the space where their legs brushed. She reached out, slipping her fingers under Viv’s chin, urging her to meet her gaze again.

“You never have to feel insecure with me,” Beth whispered warmly.

“Then stop shutting me out!”

Viv pushed herself up, a trace of irritation in the movement, and stretched, morning stiffness still lingering in her muscles. Her hoodie rode up slightly, exposing a strip of skin above her waistband. Beth’s eyes flicked there automatically, a soft smile tugging at her lips.

“You planning to get dressed, or are you showing up to the scan in your pajamas?”

Beth glanced at her with a crooked grin. “Figured if I’m already ruining the whole experience, I might as well be comfortable.”

Viv let out a sharp huff, eyes closing briefly as if to wrestle down her irritation at Beth’s humor. She grabbed Beth’s hand and tugged her up.

“Not funny.”

Together they moved toward the bedroom. Beth quickly swept her hair back into a ponytail while Viv checked through the bag.

“Do you think everything will be okay today?”

Beth turned toward her, stepping in close behind. She slid her arms around Viv’s belly, hands settling just beneath her navel.

“I’m sure of it. And if it isn’t, we’ll deal with it. Together. Like we always do.”

A brief silence stretched between them.

“Unless you decide to hop on a plane in the next few weeks without telling me.”

Beth stiffened. Her hold on Viv’s stomach didn’t shift much, but enough to be felt.

“Where’s that coming from?”

Viv sighed softly. “Nowhere. Just a joke.”

Beth pulled away, reaching for her jacket on the hook.

“Funny, because it sounds an awful lot like you’ve been reading my mind,” she muttered.

Viv cleared her throat, catching Beth’s attention. “Is there something I should know?”

Without looking at Viv, Beth kept walking. “No. Just… a lot on my mind. Let’s just focus on the scan, okay?”

Viv let a long, uncertain silence hang between them.

“Okay. But I’m not letting this go, Beth. Not after today.”

By then they were both standing in the hallway. Beth already had the car keys clenched in her hand, but suddenly stopped. She dropped to her knees in front of Viv, placed her hands over her belly, and pressed a soft kiss there.

Viv’s hands came to rest on Beth’s head, her fingers sliding gently through her hair.

“I don’t know how to say it… so I won’t say anything at all.”

She stood up. Viv kissed her briefly, almost fleetingly, but kept her gaze fixed on Beth’s face.

“You’re already saying it. You just have to dare to finish it.”

As Viv turned to grab the bag, Beth’s eyes flicked to her phone. A message was still open: “Let me know by the day after tomorrow at the latest.”

She quickly hid the screen when she heard Viv close the zipper of the bag and slipped the phone into her jacket pocket, forcing a smile.

“Done?”

Viv chuckled softly. “With you? Never.”

Outside, the rain had stopped, but everything was still wet and glistening. The air hung heavy and gray, as if it were still raining somewhere in the distance.

They walked to the car in silence, Beth holding the umbrella half over them, though there were barely any raindrops left. Her hand rested loosely in her jacket pocket, where her phone was hidden.

Viv’s pace was slow, almost waddling. Every step seemed measured, as if her body had grown not only heavier but also more fatigued after months of pregnancy.

Beth automatically slowed her own pace, waiting for her without saying anything.

She glanced back at Beth’s tense face. “You’re really… quiet today.”

Beth’s eyes stayed fixed on the car. “Just… a lot on my mind, I guess.”

“You’ve been saying that all morning, you know?”

No answer came. Beth opened the car door for her. Viv gave her a look, as if wanting to say something, but chose instead to follow silently. Beth closed the door softly, walked around the hood, and slid into the driver’s seat.

The car rumbled to life, and the radio blared on. Taylor Swift was singing about love stories. Normally, Beth would sing along—off-key, exaggerating every note, occasionally reaching for Viv’s hand as a makeshift microphone.

But not today.

Viv looked at her. Beth’s eyes were fixed on the road, her jaw tight. Her fingers tapped on the steering wheel, but without rhythm. Her mouth remained shut.

“You’re not singing along.”

Beth shrugged. “Guess I left my voice at home this morning.”

Viv didn’t even grin, not a tiny smile. She just stared. “You always sing along.”

“Maybe I just don’t feel like it, Viv!”

The atmosphere in the car thickened—not hostile, but… uncomfortable. Something unspoken hung between them, like mist in a deep valley.

“You’d think you’d be a bit more cheerful. We’re about to see our baby. For the last time before he arrives.”

“I’m happy. I’m just… not so good at today,” Beth muttered softly.

Viv sighed and gazed out the window, trying to keep herself composed.

No fighting, Viv. Come on. Not now. Not right before the scan.

Together they entered the midwife practice, warm and quiet. In the background, piano music played—just enough to be soothing, not irritating—and a diffuser in the corner sent lavender into the air.

Beth held the door open for Viv, who stepped inside. Without thinking, Beth rested her hand on Viv’s lower back and sank into one of the chairs.

She looked around calmly: at the baby book on the table, the photo frame with a newborn, the plants by the window.

Meanwhile, Beth checked in at the reception desk. She gave the assistant a gentle smile, but her eyes didn’t quite join in the expression. The midwife herself appeared down the hallway, cheerful and welcoming.

“Vivianne! Beth! So good to see you again. Would you like to come in?”

Viv slowly eased herself upright. Beth was already beside her before she needed to say anything, instinctively reaching out her hand. Viv briefly placed hers in Beth’s.

The midwife’s office was bright, but not clinical. On the wall hung a poster showing the baby’s development by trimester. A water bottle was already set out, along with a monitor and an ultrasound machine with a clean probe.

Viv sat on the examination bed, supporting herself with both hands behind her. Beth lingered somewhere between the bed and the door, unsure exactly where she should stand.

“So, tell me, Vivianne… How are you feeling?”

She sighed softly. “Like I’m dragging around a bowling ball I have no say over.”

She tried to laugh, but fatigue was clear in her voice.

“My back is stiff, my legs keep falling asleep. I keep getting belly cramps… and sleep? I wake up as soon as I turn over. Or if Beth turns over.”

She glanced at Beth briefly, while the midwife smiled and jotted everything down.

“I’m ready. He can come. Now. Please.”

Beth chuckled softly. “He’s the only one in this house who would actually be on time.”

Viv turned her head and lightly tapped Beth’s knee with her foot. Not hard, more playful. Beth smiled back at her… briefly.

“And you, Beth? Everything alright?”

Beth’s gaze had lingered somewhere between the screen and the window, making her start slightly when she heard her name.

“Oh. Yeah. Fine.”

The midwife looked up from her tablet. “It’s okay if it feels like a lot. This period brings stress for many partners too.”

Viv smiled softly. “She’s just a little quiet today. Normally she’s not… quiet. Or serious.”

The midwife nodded kindly. “That’s okay too. This stage can be quite overwhelming. For both parents.”

Beth muttered, “Maybe I should try it. Being serious, I mean.”

Viv raised an eyebrow but said nothing. She wasn’t sure if Beth was trying to be funny or keeping her at a distance.

The midwife walked to the cabinet in the other room to grab gloves and prepare the table in the back.

Viv ran her hands over her thighs. “You know… I think I understand why you’re acting so strange.”

Beth slowly looked up. Her eyes scanned Viv’s face briefly, but she said nothing.

“It’s just… scary, right? Giving birth. You don’t have to do it yourself, but you have to watch. That must suck too.”

Beth cleared her throat and shuffled her feet slightly across the floor.

“I mean, I can imagine it’s intense. Feeling powerless. You don’t like standing on the sidelines. Watching and not being able to do anything.”

“I’m not afraid of you. Or the birth,” she whispered softly.

Viv tried to reach out gently. “But maybe you’re afraid of seeing me in pain? Or… that you might do something wrong?”

“Maybe.”

Viv looked at her, her gaze softening. “You don’t have to do it perfectly, okay? You just have to be there—that’s enough.”

Beth let out a soft sigh. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

“I know. Even if you’re quiet. You look like you’re fighting ten thoughts at once, but you’re here. That’s what matters.”

Beth gave a weak smile. Her fingers idly played with the zipper of her cardigan. The truth weighed heavily on her tongue, yet she still couldn’t speak.

“I just… I want you not to have to do this alone.”

Viv reached for her hand and squeezed it gently. “I don’t have to. Ever. I have you.”

Just as that unpleasant warm feeling coursed through Beth’s chest again, the midwife entered. “Okay, everything’s ready. Shall we take a look?”

Together, they walked to the back room, where Viv eased herself onto the examination table, her back arching slightly in the awkward position.

Beth stepped closer, her hand resting on Viv’s shoulder, her fingers just brushing the skin beneath the sleeve of her shirt. She looked at the screen, then back at Viv’s face.

Say it. Say it now. Say that you don’t know what to do. No, this isn’t the moment. Or is it? God, she’s going to hate me. Or maybe not.

But she didn’t say it.

The midwife slid the monitor a little closer, rolled her stool beside the bed, and pulled on her gloves. She spoke in her calm, nurturing voice as she applied the gel and tucked a towel under Viv’s shirt.

“Cold. Sorry in advance.”

Viv gave a faint grin. “I’m used to it by now. After week twenty, all the ultrasounds lost their charm.”

Beth stood at Viv’s right side, holding her hand firmly but not tightly. Her thumb moved rhythmically over the back of Viv’s hand. Her eyes were fixed on the screen, as if afraid to miss anything.

“Look, there he is. Your son.”

The screen filled with blurry shapes, black-and-white contours difficult to decipher. But there, in a flash, a clear heartbeat appeared—a small rounding of a back, a tiny knee tucked up.

“Here you can see the head… and this is the heart. Look, it’s beating steadily, like a little drum.”

Viv watched, fascinated, her head tilted slightly to the side. “He’s grown.”

“Yes, good eye, Viv. But he’s just a bit below the average curve. Nothing to worry about, but we’ll keep an eye on it.”

Beth frowned. “What does that mean exactly?”

“He’s around the 9th percentile. That means roughly 9 out of 100 babies would be smaller than him at this stage. It’s a little below average, but he’s moving well, and the blood flow in the placenta looks healthy.”

Beth nodded, her eyes still fixed on the screen. Her breathing was slow, almost absent. Viv squeezed her hand gently, drawing her gaze from the screen to Beth’s face.

“Hey, you’re still here, right?”

Beth blinked and gave a small smile.

“Yes. Just… a lot to take in.”

The midwife pressed a little harder on Viv’s belly with the probe, making her eyebrows knit together.

“Ouch, that was my rib.”

“Sorry, I just want to measure his length properly. This is the last time we’ll be able to see him this clearly.”

The midwife adjusted the screen slightly so that both Beth and Viv could see better.

“He’s lying head-down, which is good. His back is on the left side, and his arms and legs are on the right. You’re probably feeling a lot of kicking on one side, right?”

“Yes, under my right rib.”

The midwife chuckled softly. “He’s very active. That’s a good sign.”

Viv sank slightly into the pillow on the exam table. The tension in her body was palpable. Her shoulders were raised, her lower back arched, and her face contorted in discomfort.

“You look a bit uncomfortable and tense, Viv. Back pain?”

She sighed softly. “Like someone laid a plank across my spine.”

“Hold on a moment.”

The midwife pushed the gel aside and instead grabbed a warm compress from under a cloth.

“Lie on your side for me, and I’ll try to ease some of the tension in your body.”

Gently, she rolled the warm compress over Viv’s back and kneaded the muscles with her fingers.

Viv groaned in relief. “Oh god, do you want to move in with us?”

Beth chuckled softly. “She pays well. In gratitude.”

The midwife chuckled gratefully. “And now, the legs.”

She pressed gently on Viv’s thighs, massaging slowly, using her thumbs on pressure points.

Viv’s hand slid slightly downward, reaching again for Beth’s hand. Beth leaned forward a little and pressed a kiss to her forehead, but said nothing.

Viv leaned against her. For a brief moment, everything seemed light again, like it once had.

But Beth’s gaze drifted back to the screen. To the small, moving child who would soon enter their lives. She tried to keep her face neutral, but her jaw was tight.

“Everything looks good otherwise, ladies. He may be small, but very strong. I expect he’ll make his appearance quickly, especially with those belly cramps. No latecomer, in any case.”

Viv rested her hand calmly on her belly, slowly stroking the curve.

“I can almost feel him in my arms already.”

Beth looked at Viv’s hand, then at her face.

“You’re going to do amazing. Really.”

Viv wanted to return a smile, but Beth had already looked away, lost in thought again.

Back in the consultation room, silence settled once more. The gel had been wiped away, Viv’s shirt pulled back over her belly, and both of them sat in chairs, their hands intertwined.

The midwife opened a new form and turned her chair toward them.

“Okay, let’s go over the birth plan now.”

Viv nodded, a mix of anticipation and fatigue in her expression. Beth pulled her chair slightly closer, so they were more aligned, yet still at a subtle distance.

“Because your baby is slightly below the growth curve, I would still advise you to give birth in the hospital.”

Viv’s eyes narrowed immediately. Her body recoiled almost imperceptibly.

“I wanted a home birth. That was the plan.”

The midwife looked at Viv with understanding. “I know. And I understand that. But we don’t take risks with a baby who’s slightly smaller than average. In the hospital, we can monitor his heartbeat more closely. And if he needs help to start breathing, there’s immediate support.”

Viv stared at her knees and spoke softly. “That feels like a step backward.”

“Sometimes a step back is a leap forward, Viv. This isn’t about failing. It’s about making sure your little man comes into the world safely.”

Beth looked from Viv to the midwife, then back again. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but closed it quickly.

“I wanted candles. My own bed. No white coats. No name tags…”

Beth slid her chair slightly closer. She took Viv’s hand again, her thumb gliding over her fingers.

“I know, love. But we’d rather bring him home with us than have to leave him there.”

Viv looked to the side. Their eyes met. For a brief moment, the tension between them melted—a short, loving moment of togetherness.

“I hate it when you’re right,”

Beth gave a faint smile. “I know. That’s why I don’t say it often.”

The midwife smiled discreetly. She immediately moved her stool closer and pointed to the birth plan open on the screen.

“Let’s talk about how to make you as comfortable as possible in the hospital. First: rest. Sleep as much as you can these last few weeks. You’ll need that energy soon.”

Viv nodded slowly.

“And during labor, there are, of course, different options: a warm bath, a birthing ball, breathing techniques. And if you want, pain relief too—epidural, morphine pump, nitrous oxide. We decide that on the spot, together.”

“I want to try without medication.”

Beth immediately placed her hand on Viv’s leg. “Or… without much medication, you mean.”

“Small amounts are allowed.”

The midwife laughed as she took notes. “And then, of course, there’s your role, Beth.”

Beth looked up. Her back straightened slightly. She seemed… uneasy.

“You are her support, her anchor. And that can mean a lot: holding her hand, guiding her breathing, making sure she drinks enough. Or making sure there’s calm around her. You know her best.”

Beth nodded slowly, but her face remained closed. She rubbed her knee for a moment, as if trying to find the right words.

“It’s okay if you don’t know everything, Beth. Labor is new for everyone, even for the partner. Just being there is already more than enough.”

A soft hum escaped her throat. “I know.”

Viv briefly held her hand and placed it over her chest. “There’s no perfect version of you that I need. I just want you, even if you don’t say anything.”

Beth smiled faintly. Their foreheads touched for a moment, a fleeting bow toward each other—quiet but intense.

“You two are doing beautifully together,” a warm voice came from behind the desk.

The midwife clicked the folder on her screen closed, set her pen on the table, and leaned back slightly. The ultrasounds, measurements, and birth plan had been fully reviewed.

“Are there any questions you want to ask? Anything bothering you, or still unclear?”

Viv opened her mouth to say that everything was clear, her standard response. But Beth beat her to it.

“How likely is… preterm birth?”

The words fell softly, almost as if they weren’t really meant to be heard.

Viv immediately turned her head toward her. “Huh? Why do you ask that?”

Beth didn’t look at her. Her gaze was fixed on a vague spot on the floor, just beyond the midwife’s legs.

“Just… because you get a lot of belly cramps. And because he’s small. That could be a risk, right?”

The midwife nodded slowly, professionally calm.

“That’s a fair question. And yes, belly cramps can sometimes be a sign of a body preparing itself. But in Viv’s case, we don’t see any signals that labor is actually starting.”

Viv turned her head again, her eyes sharp on Beth. “But why are you asking this all of a sudden?”

Beth flinched at the sharp tone but kept her face neutral. “Because I want to know what we’re dealing with.”

“There’s always a chance of preterm birth, for anyone. But based on what I see now, I’d say Viv will most likely deliver around her due date. Maybe a little earlier, but everything’s within the normal range.”

Beth nodded, very subtly. But Viv saw it—the tiniest softening of her shoulders, the exhale as if she’d been holding something inside, finally letting it go.

“Okay. Good to know.”

Viv’s gaze stayed on her. Something felt off. She had thought—no, felt—that Beth had hoped the baby would come early. That it would all be over faster. That the uncertain stretch would be shortened. But now…

“You’re relieved.”

Beth met her eyes with a warm look, but there was caution there. She didn’t say anything.

“I thought you’d be anxious. That you wanted it to just… be over quickly.”

Beth paused for a moment, then had to answer. “Maybe you thought that because I’m quiet. But that doesn’t mean I want it rushed.”

Viv nodded, but it felt like something was scraping just beneath the surface. Something she couldn’t quite grasp. Her fingers traced slowly over her belly, as if asking the baby a question.

“The most important tip is to keep listening to your body. Rest, don’t push yourself. And if you're in doubt, always call. Do you both want to sign these?”

Viv picked up the pen and wrote her name. Beth followed, a little slower.

They both stood. Viv let her hand glide over Beth’s back for a moment. Not an examining hand checking if everything was okay—something soft, an anchor.

Beth responded by placing her hand over Viv’s. Their fingers intertwined, but the space between them stayed quiet. In the hallway, as they walked toward the exit, Viv shifted her gaze to the side.

“You surprised me with that question.”

Beth shrugged. “I just suddenly thought… what if it happens now?”

“And what did you think then?”

Beth met her gaze on Viv, and for the first time, spoke without hesitation. “That I’m not ready yet. But that I also don’t want to be without him.”

Viv stopped immediately. One hand slid to her belly, the other to Beth’s face. She rested her hand softly against her cheek.

“I want you to share that with me later. The panic, the waiting, the euphoria… everything.”

Beth’s eyes closed for a second. “I’m trying, Viv.”

Viv leaned toward her, their foreheads touching briefly but intimately. “Then we’ll get through it.”

The light had grown a bit grayer as they drove back. Not rain, but that dull light that softens everything slightly—the dashboard, the buildings, their faces.

In the car, the radio played softly, a playlist of mellow pop. Neither of them sang along—not this time.

Viv sat with one hand under her belly, the other resting on her thigh. She stared out the window, face turned toward the passing world, but her eyes seemed to see nothing. Beth sat quietly behind the wheel, her knuckles gripping the leather just a little too tightly.

“You okay?” Beth asked gently.

Viv nodded slowly, not turning her head. “Yeah.”

“Really?”

Viv shrugged. The seconds of silence that followed said more than words ever could.

“Viv…”

“I told you, I’m fine.”

Beth bit her lip and blinked a few times more than usual. She tried again.

“I know when you’re lying.”

Viv finally turned toward her. Her gaze was flat, but her eyes betrayed the tremor underneath.

“Good. Then there are already two people in this car who can do that.”

Beth swallowed, eyes squeezing shut for a brief second. “What do you mean by that?”

“That I’m wondering why you looked so relieved. Just now. When she said the baby probably isn’t coming early.”

“Well… because that’s good news? Because it means they’ll be stronger? Fewer risks?”

Viv shifted her upper body slightly toward her, her hand still resting under her belly.

“You just saw him on the screen, Beth. His little head, his fingers, his heartbeat. And there’s… nothing. No tear, no smile. But the moment the midwife says he’ll probably stay in for another six weeks, your eyes light up?”

Beth exhaled softly. Her gaze stayed fixed on the road, her hands loosening slightly on the wheel.

“Maybe… maybe I’m just not good at those moments. The scans. The plans. I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel, Viv.”

Viv narrowed her eyes, lowering her voice to a whisper. “But you do feel something about him staying in longer.”

Beth said nothing. The windshield wipers squeaked briefly, a dry scrape across the glass even though it wasn’t raining. Tension hung heavy in the air, like humidity.

“Do you want me to stay pregnant a little longer? Or do you want me not to give birth yet?” Viv’s voice was painfully earnest.

Beth’s breath caught. She stayed looking forward, as if she physically couldn’t face the question.

“I just want… for us to have time. That you’re safe. That she’s safe.”

“No! You want time. For something. What?”

Beth shook her head, pressing her lips together. “I’m just… glad he’s staying in a little longer. That’s all.”

Viv turned toward the window. She said nothing—not because she had no words, but because any word she spoke would hang, heavy, in the closed space of the car.

“Okay.”

But it wasn’t agreement. It was the end of a conversation, not the end of a feeling.

Chapter Text

The front door closed with a sound that lingered just a little too loud in the hallway. Not angry, not forceful, but heavy. A kind of silence that leaves echoes behind.

Viv kicked her shoes off somewhere against the radiator and slid a hand over her belly. She leaned briefly against the wall, her eyes on Beth, who tossed her coat carelessly over the back of the couch and walked straight into the kitchen without a word.

“You don’t have to do anything for me, you know.”

Beth didn’t answer. She opened the fridge, took out two glasses, and filled them with apple juice. She set them down on the counter with just a touch too much force.

“I thought maybe you were thirsty.”

“No, I don’t want anything. Thanks.”

A short silence settled between them. Then Beth turned suddenly, her face tight, her posture taut.

“You know what, Viv? If you want something, I never know it. But if you don’t want something, you make that very clear. It was just a lot. All of it. I was just full, that’s all.”

Viv looked away, biting down. “Again.”

Beth’s eyes narrowed quickly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That this isn’t the first time you’re ‘full.’ But you never let me in.”

Beth’s voice lifted, just a notch sharper. “Because you’re always looking for something underneath it. Always! Like it can’t just be a shitty day.”

Viv’s voice cracked when she answered. “It’s not a shitty day. It’s a shitty period. And you act like it has nothing to do with you.”

“What do you want me to do, Viv? Sing? Dance? Bring a fucking balloon to the midwife’s office?”

Viv met her gaze head-on. “I just want you to be here. Not physically—here. Really. Mentally. Emotionally. Call it whatever you want.”

Beth sighed and turned away from her. “I’m trying, okay?”

“No—you’re trying to disappear.”

Beth shot her a sharp look. “That’s not fair.”

“What is fair then? That I stand here wondering if you even want this anymore?”

Beth turned toward her, tension carved into her face. “Where is that even coming from?”

“You don’t look forward to anything. You don’t say anything. You’re absent. And the second it’s about the baby, you just look… empty,” Viv snapped.

Beth’s eyes flicked back and forth, searching for words that refused to come.

“I’m tired, Viv. Everything suddenly feels pressed right against my skin. I don’t even know how to breathe sometimes.”

Viv exhaled hard. “Then why don’t you just tell me that?”

“Because then you’d think I can’t handle it. That you have to carry it all again.”

Viv let out a frustrated laugh. “You’re not carrying it anyway. Not really.”

Beth turned away, grabbed the glass, and set it back down on the counter with a sharp thud.

“I just don’t know what’s right anymore,” she muttered softly.

“Well, it would help if you didn’t shut me out completely.”

Viv pushed herself off the wall and walked slowly into the living room, stopping by the edge of the couch.

“You were just… off, okay? The whole time at the clinic. You barely said a word, unless it was about preterm labor. And now again—like I’m the reason the air feels so heavy.”

Beth snapped her gaze back to her. “Because I don’t always know how to deal with things, alright? It’s not like you always have that figured out either.”

Viv looked at her, her breathing slow and controlled. “No, I don’t have a manual either. But at least I’m not hiding in my own head when you try to share something with me.”

“Maybe you should stop digging for reasons behind everything. Maybe it just is what it is. Not everyone wants to dissect their feelings all the time.”

Viv’s eyebrows lifted, hurt flashing across her face, though she bit it back.

“And not everyone has the right to say nothing while locking everything else away.”

“God, Viv, I’m just trying to do something normal, alright? It’s just a damn glass of juice,” Beth snapped, sharper than she meant to.

Viv blinked at her, startled. “Normal? Since when is making a drink in silence a version of normal?”

Beth threw her arms in the air. “Well, excuse me for not putting on a comedy show during the ultrasound!”

“No, but something would’ve been nice. Some kind of feeling, Beth. You looked at our baby like you were staring at a computer screen.”

Beth pushed back again. “Because I don’t know, okay? I don’t know how I’m supposed to act. Everything feels fucking… too much.”

Viv let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “Well, that makes two of us.”

“Yeah, but at least you’re the main character in this whole story. I’m just the extra who forgot her lines.”

Viv’s head snapped up, stunned. “What?”

“Forget it, Viv.”

“No, say that again. As if you weren’t the one who didn’t want to carry. Didn’t want to give birth. You chose this role, Beth,” Viv shot back, anger spilling out.

“Because I’m scared! Because I thought maybe I could carry this in a way that felt safe—for you, for her, for me. But apparently I’m wrong even when I try to hold myself back.”

Slowly, Viv began to unravel.

“It’s not about you holding back, Beth. It’s about you disappearing.”

For a few seconds, the silence was absolute.

Beth stood there in the middle of the kitchen, her breath quick, her face flushed, her eyes shining.

“I don’t know if there’s anything I can do right anymore!”

A heavy pause fell. Then Beth turned, her face rigid.

“I’m going upstairs.”

She snatched up the two glasses, dumping one out in the sink. The juice hit the steel with a harsh clatter, as if trying to drown their words.

Without another glance, she left the room, her footsteps dull against the stairs.

Viv stayed behind, her hands trembling faintly at her sides. She closed her eyes for a moment, counting slowly to five.

She wanted to follow. She wanted Beth to come back. She wanted to understand her. But she did nothing.

A minute later came the soft click upstairs. The baby’s room.

Viv exhaled, both hands pressing against her belly as if for support, and began the slow climb. Each step felt heavier than it should.

The nursery door stood ajar. She eased it open with a gentle push.

Beth sat on the edge of the nursing chair, hands folded in her lap. Her shoulders slumped, her head tilted down. A tear slid across her cheek.

Not brushed away. Not hidden. Just there. Bare.

Viv lingered in the doorway for a beat before moving inside, slow, her body heavy and tight. She stopped beside her, close enough to touch, but didn’t. Not yet.

“You don’t have to tell me everything. Just don’t pretend you don’t feel anything.”

Beth’s nod was barely there. Her eyes stayed fixed on the room. On the crib. On the blanket Viv had folded and straightened earlier that week.

“I’m scared, Viv,” Beth’s voice came rough.

Viv set her hand gently on Beth’s shoulder.

“I know. But I’m here. You don’t have to carry it alone.”

Beth drew in a breath as if to speak, but her voice faltered.

“I just don’t know if I’ll be good enough when the time comes.”

Viv’s hand slid across her back, her head resting lightly against Beth’s temple.

“You don’t have to be perfect, love. Just present.”

A long silence followed, filled with breathing, the soft scent of baby lotion and freshly washed sheets. In that silence, unspoken, their shadows inched closer together again.

After a while, Beth broke first. “Sorry…”

Viv shrugged slightly, avoiding her gaze.

“No, really. I’m sorry, love. For being so… sharp. And quiet. I just don’t know how to process all of this, and then it comes out wrong.”

Viv looked at her now. Her face was calm, but her eyes were red.

“I just wanted to reach you. Not attack you.”

“I know. And I appreciate that you keep coming to me. Even when I disappear,” Beth whispered softly.

She bit her lip as her mind raced.

Looking at Viv, she forced herself to smile—a smile that came just a fraction too late.

If I tell her now, she’ll think I only said sorry to save myself. She deserves peace. Not more chaos. But I have to.

That thought pressed even heavier on her chest.

“We don’t have to be perfect as parents, Beth. But I do want us to be honest. Open.”

Beth nodded slowly. She wanted to say so much, to speak the truth. But she said, “I want that too. Really.”

Really—a word that felt heavier each time she spoke it.

She took Viv’s hand, placed her thumb on it, and drew little circles. Familiar. Loving. But in her mind, other thoughts circled.

What if I have to tell her later that I can’t be who she needs me to be? Not yet.

Her stomach tightened, but she kept her face neutral.

“Maybe we can salvage the mood a bit? Do something simple,” she suggested.

“Like?” Viv chuckled, suspicious.

“Order baby stuff. The last things. We’re so good at pointless lists.”

Viv nodded, grateful for the offer. For the genuine gesture.

“If that means I finally get to go for that giraffe mobile, I’m in.”

Beth smiled. “Anything as long as I get to boycott that ridiculous owl wallpaper.”

They laughed. Really laughed.

For a moment, it felt normal. But beneath the faint smile, Beth kept thinking of that one date.

The day after tomorrow… Do or die? But to be fair, there’s only a die.

Maybe I should just say no. Later. After the shower. Or after dinner. Text her.

Viv grabbed her phone and sank a little into Beth’s chair.

“Do you want the baby blankets in caramel, rust, or moss green?” Viv asked, scrolling.

“Moss green, I guess. I don’t think I have any other choice?”

Viv laughed softly and rested her head against Beth’s shoulder. “Maybe.”

Beth instinctively ran her finger through Viv’s hair and pressed a kiss to her temple. But her gaze lingered for a moment on the white dresser, on the list above the diaper stock that Viv had handwritten just last week.

Birth checklist – home. She swallowed.

“We’ll manage this,” she whispered to herself.

Viv looked up, surprised. “What did you say?”

“Uh… That you get to pick the fox cape tomorrow. But no owls.”

Viv’s smile returned immediately. “That I get to order the fox-shaped bath cape tomorrow.”

“Every baby deserves a fox-shaped bath cape. That’s just basic, Viv.”

Viv cleared her throat. “Tomorrow?”

Beth smiled briefly and ran a finger along Viv’s nose. “Do I have a choice?”

“You sound like you wrote the parenting manual yourself. Exactly. Not tomorrow. Now!”

Beth looked at her with a crooked grin. “Chapter 1: Make sure your child looks like a forest creature after bathing. Chapter 2: Make sure your pregnant girlfriend gets her way.”

Slowly, Viv began to feel the discomfort in her back from sitting tensely, so they shifted together toward the couch, where the laptop now rested on Beth’s lap.

Their legs were both tucked under a fleece blanket that had been a permanent fixture on the couch for weeks. Viv sat half on her side, close against Beth, her head resting on the hand she was using to scroll.

“Look at this, a baby wrap with an autumn print. And these tiny hats. Beth… I’m melting.”

Beth gave a faint smile and clicked “add to cart.”

“Go ahead. It’ll probably fit in one of the hundred baskets in the nursery.”

Viv tapped her lightly. “Hey… that’s organization. Not overboard.”

Viv kept scrolling, chatting about muslin cloths and a whale-shaped bath thermometer. Her enthusiasm was contagious—or at least, it should have been.

But Beth’s responses slowed. Her eyes drifted toward her phone, which she secretly rested on her thigh under the blanket.

A few taps. A message. Swipe away. Screen off.

“Important things on your phone?”

“Oh… no. Just… news. Clearing my head for a bit,” she answered quickly.

Viv raised an eyebrow but said nothing. She knew Beth could be quiet sometimes. But this… this felt different.

“You seemed pretty excited just a moment ago. And now…”

“Yeah, I don’t know. It’s a lot of choices. My head feels full again.”

Beth clicked on a bib, stared at it for three seconds, and scrolled on without saying anything.

“It’s okay if you feel overwhelmed, you know. But it feels like… you’re somewhere else,” Viv whispered softly.

Beth’s shoulders tensed unconsciously. Her breathing became shallower. She bit briefly on the inside of her cheek.

“Maybe I am, a little. Just… everything’s closing in. The birth. Responsibility. I don’t know…”

Viv placed her hand warmly and firmly on Beth’s knee. “It’s okay to be scared. But there’s something… different in your eyes. Like you’re trying to hide something from me.”

Beth didn’t answer and quickly scrolled through the baby items.

“Okay, fine… Then let’s go. Baby bathtub or bath bucket? What does your mother instinct say?”

Beth shrugged slowly. “Do… whatever you think is easiest.”

“You usually have an opinion on this stuff, right?” Viv said half-laughing.

“Yeah. I don’t know. I just don’t feel it tonight.”

Beth picked up her phone again. Tap. Tap. Scroll. Then screen off.

Now Viv looked at her. Directly. Openly. Tense. Irritated.

“Do you even want this? Sitting here right now? Figuring things out for our child together?”

Beth looked up, her eyes surprised, almost hurt, but also caught.

“Of course I want that. I’m just… tired and restless. Everything is… a lot,” she answered quickly.

“Beth… love. You act like you’re here, but you’re nowhere. You say yes, but your body says no.”

A silence followed.

Beth slid her finger up to her neck. Her house felt clammy. Her thoughts raced back and forth.

Say it. Now. Get it out. Better now than later. Later it’ll be too late. It has to be now. She’s already angry and irritated anyway.

Beth seemed about to speak, then: “I’m going for a walk.”

Viv frowned slightly. “Now? Why?”

Beth was already heading toward the hall. “Because otherwise I’ll lose it. Some fresh air. Just nothing for a bit.”

“Then I’ll come with you.”

Beth turned around quickly. “No. No, I want… alone. I just need… to feel myself for a moment.”

Viv stayed seated. Silent. The laptop on her lap suddenly felt very heavy. Her eyes remained fixed on Beth as she grabbed her coat. Her phone was clutched tightly in her hand.

“Are you running away from me, or from yourself?” Viv whispered.

Beth stayed with her hand on the doorknob. Inhale. Exhale.

“I’ll be back soon,” she said, still without looking back.

The door closed softly in the lock. Too softly to be dramatic. But it felt like a blow.

Viv sat motionless. Her gaze fell on the shopping cart, still open:

“Your order is almost complete. Checkout?”

She quickly closed the window. “What are you hiding from me, Beth?”

Half an hour later, Viv was still sitting alone on the couch. The blanket lay crumpled at her feet. She’d shut the laptop. Her hands rested in her hair, fingers tangled in her light curls as if trying to find some grip there.

Her belly pressed visibly against her sweater, taut and tense. The room felt silent. Too silent.

“Maybe she just doesn’t want this anymore,” Viv murmured to herself.

She let out a deep sigh, her gaze fixed on the wall across from her, as if it might hold some clarity the past hours hadn’t.

“Maybe she regrets it. Maybe she wants to come back. To be alone. Or… to be without the baby. Without me.”

She frowned and rubbed her hand across her face. Her eyes stung from the tension lodged in her body. She drew a deep breath as scenes flashed through her mind.

Beth saying she needs space.

Beth not showing up during the birth.

Beth looking at her and saying, “I don’t want this life.”

Viv pressed her lips together. She placed a hand over her chest. “Come on, Viv. Breathe. Hold on. Not now… don’t hyperventilate.”

Then, suddenly, a sound. The key in the lock. A click. A door swinging slowly open. Soft footsteps on the wooden laminate.

Viv looked up, her gaze darting—hopeful, defensive, all at once.

Beth.

She stepped in with an almost unnatural calm. As if she’d left something behind—something heavy. Her cheeks were a little redder from the fresh air, her eyes clearer than earlier today.

And, more importantly… there was the hint of a smile.

“Hey,” Beth said carefully.

Viv nodded shortly. Her shoulders were still tense.

“Sorry. Really. I… just needed to get away for a bit. Everything felt stuck in my head and in my body. Everything felt so close, so heavy.”

She sighed as she hung her coat on the rack.

“And now?”

Beth walked over to the couch and sat down beside her. Not on the edge, but really beside her. Close. Their thighs almost touching.

Beth looked at her calmly. “Now… it feels a little better. Like I can breathe again. Like I’m… just a bit more normal again.”

Viv nodded, but her face betrayed doubt. She wanted to believe Beth, but she felt something—a distance that fresh air alone couldn’t fix.

“Good for you,” Viv answered.

Beth turned her head. She felt it. Viv’s tone.

“That sounds like you’re actually mad at me.”

Viv let out a short sigh. “Not… mad. But it just hurts, Beth. That you needed to breathe for a while, and I’m the one left… with everything.”

“It’s not like I’m leaving you, Viv. I’m not running away from you,” Beth said, defensive.

Viv looked down for a moment. “You say that. But it still feels like it.”

Beth was silent for a beat, her gaze dropping to the floor. “I just don’t know what to do. Everything I do feels wrong. Either too much… or not enough.”

Viv shifted slightly toward her. “Beth, all I need is for you to be here. Not physically, but… really. In your head, in your heart. Just… here for a moment.”

Beth swallowed, her throat visibly moving. Then she looked up at Viv.

“I really want it. You know that, right? You. Her. All of this. I just… sometimes get stuck for a bit.”

Viv nodded. She bit her lip for a moment. “I’m glad you found something outside that helped you. Really. But it also hurts, Beth. That you found something there that I apparently couldn’t give you.”

Beth looked up, surprised. “Hey… no. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know. But I can feel it,” Viv replied, letting out a faint laugh.

A short silence fell, and Beth rested her hand on Viv’s thigh.

“Come here,” she murmured.

Viv hesitated for a moment, then slowly scooted closer, letting her head rest on Beth’s shoulder. Beth wrapped an arm around her and pressed a kiss to her temple.

“Maybe everything’s just a little… overwhelming. Baby rooms, to-do lists, birth scenarios. You suddenly sneeze so hard, and I think, ‘Shit, is this it?’”

Viv chuckled softly against Beth’s sweater. “I’ve been sneezing my whole life, you know.”

“Yeah, but now maybe a baby's coming with it.”

They both laughed. Short, but genuine.

“Shall we look at some more stuff? Just… small things. Things we might still be missing?”

Viv’s smile returned instantly. “You mean: things you dismissed as nonsense yesterday, and now I have to add to the list?”

Beth grinned. “Exactly those.”

She grabbed the laptop and opened it again. Her hand rested on Viv’s thigh as she pulled up the tab, scrolling through the baby webshop.

“Okay, hit me. What should I throw in the cart?”

“A bottle warmer. The pink one with the bunny logo?” Viv asked, her sweetest smile in place.

Beth nodded. Her gaze was clear, warm for a moment—but as Viv looked back at the screen, something flickered across her face. A hesitation. A shadow.

But she stayed quiet. Smiled. Clicked through.

Viv leaned against her, unaware that her own breathing had just gotten a little less steady, pulled by something unsaid.

Not now, Beth. Not now. Don’t ruin her moment. Later, you’ll say it. But make sure it’s today.

As the evening sun cast a new glow of orange and yellow across the room, Beth stood in the kitchen, her back half-turned to the living room. She chopped the bell pepper and stirred the pan on autopilot, just to avoid thinking for a moment.

On the couch, Viv slouched, laptop on her lap, her face lit by the screen. Her lower lip was caught firmly between her teeth.

“Induction for growth restriction… risk of oxygen deficiency… okay, interesting read this.”

Beth didn’t say anything. She lowered the heat, grabbed a colander, and drained the pasta. She hoped Viv wouldn’t get too caught up in it again.

“Do you want the sauce on the side or over it?”

“Over it’s fine,” Viv replied without looking up.

“Parmesan?”

A few minutes later, Beth plopped down next to her on the couch, two steaming bowls of pasta in her hands. She handed one to Viv, who finally looked up properly.

“Thanks, love. Looks good.”

Beth shrugged. “Just whatever we still had in the house. Nothing special.”

“Doesn’t matter. Warm and filling, I’m happy,” Viv replied with a smile.

They ate in silence. The TV murmured softly in the background. Viv had placed her laptop on a cushion beside her but quickly picked it up again.

“It says here that sometimes they induce at 38 weeks for a small baby… would they consider that for me too?”

“Hm… I don’t know. I didn’t really hear that today, did I?”

“No, true. But I just… don’t know anymore. I read so much.”

Beth nodded slowly, her gaze drifting to the TV. A sports broadcast began, showing a training field. Women in white kits moved across the grass, the sun low in the sky.

“Three days until the European Championship kicks off for the Lionesses. Sarina Wiegman has finalized her squad, with a striking number of new faces,” the presenter began.

Beth’s entire posture shifted. She straightened her back, eyes locked on the screen.

Viv noticed immediately. She followed Beth’s gaze and saw what held her attention.

“Look at that—your old team. Your name isn’t even there. Outrageous!”

Beth gave a faint smile. “Probably listed somewhere at the bottom of the squad.”

“They’re not the same without you. Without Mary, without Alex. It’s… different.”

Beth didn’t say anything, her eyes fixed on the screen. A close-up appeared of a young midfielder, someone she had once coached.

Viv took a bite of pasta but kept Beth in her peripheral vision.

“You know… I get it. I really do. I missed it too back then. But this is more important now. The baby’s coming. Right now, it’s not about football. Not for either of us.”

“I know,” Beth said, her voice heavy with sadness.

“I don’t mean it in a harsh way. It’s just… the timing is what it is.”

Beth nodded, but her face betrayed something else. Her mind was clearly elsewhere.

“I really feel like you’ve been somewhere else today, babe. And no, not just because of the scan.”

Beth glanced at her briefly. “Viv, for the tenth time. It’s just… a lot. That’s all.”

“Yeah, but it feels… I don’t know. You barely looked at me when I told you about that hospital plan. But then those football clips came on, and your whole face lit up.”

Beth exhaled softly. She felt caught somehow, yet knew Viv didn’t know exactly why.

“That’s not fair, Viv. That was just… familiar. Something normal for a moment.”

“Okay,” Viv said, hesitantly.

Another silence settled over them. The pasta had gone half-cold. Beth poked at her bowl without really eating. Viv pushed the laptop aside and pulled her legs up beneath her.

“I miss you a little. Not literally—you’re here—but sometimes you just seem so far away.”

Beth swallowed. She wanted to say it. Everything. Right now. But the words caught in her throat. Instead, she forced a small smile.

“I’m here. Really, Viv.”

“Okay.”

But she didn’t believe it. And Beth knew that. And she also knew: this couldn’t go on.

It has to be said. Yes? No? Now? Yes, do it? No? Yes? No? Wait, maybe not now.

So Beth stayed silent. She stared at the TV as if it could somehow give her something Viv couldn’t offer at this moment. Viv looked at her half-eaten plate. She wasn’t hungry anymore, but she said nothing.

Beth slowly stood up. Without a word, she stacked the bowls on top of each other and disappeared toward the kitchen.

Viv watched her, still half-focused on the next article she was reading. She heard water running in the sink, the clink of cutlery against ceramic. Her eyes drifted back to Beth.

She saw how her girlfriend glanced up from the dishes, then quickly looked away whenever Viv moved. As if caught doing something. But what?

“You really don’t have to do all of that, you know. I can help in a bit—”

“No. Leave it. I’ve already got it in my hands,” Beth cut in, hurriedly.

Viv frowned. She closed the tab and opened another article—something about positions during labor. She skimmed it quickly, barely able to focus.

“Hey, can you take a look? I just read something that seems useful.”

Beth dried her hands and walked back, but stopped on the other side of the coffee table.

“A birthing stool. Like an inflatable thing that gives support during contractions. Seems useful… or maybe awkward? I don’t know, I thought… what do you think?”

Beth leaned forward, her face showing only half-interest. “Yeah… could be useful, I guess.”

“Do you think that, or are you just saying it?”

Beth sighed. Not dramatically, but deep enough for Viv to hear.

“I don’t know, Viv. I just… have no clue about this.”

“That’s exactly why I asked your opinion. Remember? Together?”

Beth took a few steps back toward the stairs, running her hand along her forehead, avoiding eye contact again.

“I think I’m going to take a shower, okay?”

“Seriously?” Viv snapped.

Beth froze for a moment. She didn’t want this conversation. Not now. Her head felt full. Full of lies, of guilt. Of the moment that could no longer be postponed. And of Viv, who seemed more and more able to see right through her.

Viv slammed the laptop shut. Not angrily—but quickly. Harder than usual. She set it down beside her. No finesse left.

“What is this, Beth?”

“What do you mean?” Beth tried.

Viv got to her feet and faced her. “You’re here physically, but mentally you’re so far away. You look right through me. You say the right things, but you don’t mean them. You disappear whenever it gets hard. You live like you’re waiting for something I don’t know about.”

“Viv…”

“You act like everything is about the baby, but you don’t watch the scans, you don’t ask questions, you forget things. And just now? You didn’t even want to talk about something practical. What is it? What’s going on in your head that you won’t tell me?”

Beth looked up. For a fleeting moment, it seemed like she wanted to say something. Her lips moved—but nothing came out. Then her gaze dropped.

“I told you, I’m just tired.”

“No, that’s not it, Beth.”

Viv stepped closer, closing the gap to less than a meter. The silence was deafening. Her heart pounded in her chest. She saw Beth holding her breath.

Viv looked her straight in the eye, no theatrics, just real.

“Beth, what the hell is going on with you?”

“Yes, please,” Viv answered, still absorbed in her article.

Chapter Text

The silence was deafening.

They stood face to face in the middle of the living room. Their chests rose and fell heavily—not from exertion, but from everything inside them: frustration, grief, secrets.

Viv’s eyes were red, shimmering with tears she’d been holding back for minutes. Beth’s jaw was tight.

Viv sobbed, trying to steady herself. “Talk to me, please. Say something, Beth, because I can’t take this any longer.”

“What do you want me to say, Viv?”

Viv’s voice rose instantly, bubbling up from everywhere inside her. “The truth! Where is your head? Where are you all the time?”

Beth turned her face away, rubbing her forehead as if even that was too much.

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Physically, yes. But mentally? I have no idea. You look right through me. You keep disappearing into yourself and I’m just standing here… I’m just standing here alone.”

Beth sighed. “You’re making such a big thing out of this, Viv. Sometimes it’s just… crowded in my head. That’s it.”

Viv let out a disbelieving laugh, sharp with hurt. “I’m making a big thing out of it!? I’m seven and a half months pregnant, Beth. I’m crying because you’re completely shut off. And you just downplay it like that!?”

Beth turned slightly away from her, walking to the sideboard as if she needed literal distance. She leaned on her hands, hesitating.

Maybe it should be now. Everything’s falling apart anyway. Come on, Beth, just tell her.

“It’s just a lot, Viv. You have a million questions. The baby’s six weeks away. And I feel like I have to keep performing. Keep pretending I can handle it all.”

Viv’s breathing was heavy. Her trembling hand gripped the back of the sofa. “I don’t expect you to handle everything. I expect you to be honest. Even when you stumble. But you shut me out. Shut me out completely.”

Her voice broke, rough and raw. “Why do I feel like I’m in this alone, when you’re standing just two meters away from me?”

Beth’s gaze darted to the window. Her arms hung by her sides, but her fingers clenched tight, knuckles white.

“Viv… I just don’t have any space in my head. Okay?”

“No space? For me? For us? For the baby?”

“Too much…? Too much? What exactly is too much? The baby? The planning? Or me?”

Beth’s breathing was heavy. “I can’t do this conversation. Not now. Not when you’re like this.”

Viv’s voice cracked under the weight of her emotions. “I’m not doing anything. I’m feeling. And I’m terrified you’re hiding something, Beth. I can feel it.”

For a few seconds, silence. Beth looked straight at her. Something in her eyes was hard, almost cold.

“I’m going to take a shower.”

“Beth…”

“No, leave me,” Beth snapped back.

Without another word she walked away. Her footsteps echoed on the stairs. The bathroom door shut softly, but with finality.

Viv was left standing alone. She stayed there for a moment, in the middle of the living room, her breath faltering.

A little later, she sank down onto the couch, as if her legs had given out. She pulled her knees up as far as her swollen, rounded belly allowed, wrapping her arms around herself and the life moving inside her.

The tears came quietly. First a few, then a flood.

“I’m sorry, little one… Sorry mama’s so upset,” she whispered through her sobs.

“Yes. Not right now. It’s just too much,” Beth snapped.

“And sorry that your other mama won’t give you any attention right now. I don’t even know why. I’m sorry, little one. You don’t deserve this. You’re supposed to come into love. Not into… this mess.”

She rocked herself gently back and forth, her head pressed deep between her knees.

“She says it’s all too much. But you… you’re not too much.”

Her voice grew hoarse from crying, but something shifted. Her back straightened, her jaw clenched tight. A new current stirred inside her—anger.

“I’m carrying this child. I’m giving everything. And she… she shuts herself off, disappears into her own head, and leaves me here breaking apart.”

She wiped her tears away with a harsh sweep of her hand. “What could possibly be so important that you treat your own family like this? Where are you, Beth?”

She stood, took a few steps, fists curling tight at her sides. For the first time in weeks, she felt something other than doubt. Something that burned. Smoldered. Ready to fight.

And beneath that anger, a vow to her baby: she will find out the truth. And no one will keep her in the dark again.

“If you put me and this baby second, I’ll make sure you will remember that, Beth Mead. You choose this family, or you lose it.”

The silence pressed down heavy on the room. It was as if all the oxygen had been sucked out in an instant. Viv’s gaze drifted—toward the coffee grinder on the table, the clutter on the windowsill, a lone sock on the carpet. Then it fixed on a stain in the rug.

Everything felt messy. Not just her mind. Her heart. Her whole body. Everything.

She swallowed. The baby kicked hard, stretching against her ribs.

Viv drew in a sharp breath and placed her hand on her belly. “Yes, little one, I know. It’s okay… I know.”

She bent forward, eyes shut. Then suddenly—she was on her feet. Calm. As if a switch had flipped. She strode to the hallway closet and yanked the door open with a snap. She grabbed a bucket, spray bottles, microfiber cloths, gloves. Tossing them out, not carefully taking them.

A cleaning frenzy took hold. A furious kind of nesting that had nothing to do with tidying.

She stormed back into the living room, pulling open drawers, emptying cupboards, throwing things onto the floor.

“Everything out. Everything clean. Fresh start. Nothing hidden. Nothing left behind.”

One drawer flew open—she dumped the contents onto the floor. Letters, old keys… and her positive pregnancy test.

It rolled beneath the coffee table. She glanced at it, swallowed hard, but kept scrubbing.

“Gone! All of it gone! Everything stuck, everything that hurts. Clean it away. Wipe it out.”

She switched on the vacuum. The motor shrieked like it wanted to resist. Viv bent down, pushed, lifted furniture as if she weren’t carrying nearly eight months of pregnancy in front of her.

The baby jolted inside her, protesting hard.

Her breath came ragged. “Sorry, baby… mama just has to…”

She leaned against the wall, one hand pressing into her belly. Eyes shut—for a second, no more. She had to keep going.

She snatched up a fresh cloth, sprayed glass cleaner across the window, and scrubbed with furious strokes.

Next, the kitchen cabinets. She wiped them down with an intensity that bordered on violent. The baby jerked again. Sharper this time. A kind of protest she could feel in her bones.

Viv let out a groan, forced into another pause. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry, sweetheart. But I have to. Just a little more. I have to finish this.”

And she carried on, sweat slicking her face, her T-shirt clinging to her back.

Then suddenly… Beth came down the stairs.

She froze halfway, the sharp sting of lemon cleaner hitting her nose. Her eyes swept over the wreckage. She stepped further…

Half-empty cupboards. Baby clothes strewn across the floor. The test, lying forgotten beneath the table. And Viv—drenched in sweat, her face twisted somewhere between fury and grief.

“Viv? What are you doing?” Beth’s voice was rushed, edged with alarm.

Viv didn’t look up, just kept scrubbing. “What does it look like? Cleaning. Doing something useful. Something that actually makes a difference.”

“You have to stop this. You’re drenched, your heart’s racing, Viv—”

Viv snapped back hard. “Oh, so now you suddenly care about me and the baby?”

Beth swallowed. “That’s not fair.”

Viv spun around, slick with sweat and rage, the spray bottle still in her hand like a weapon.

“What is fair, Beth? You ignoring me? You looking away? You lighting up for a football match on TV but saying nothing when I tell you I’m terrified of what’s coming?”

Beth’s voice sharpened, irritation cutting through her concern. “I know you’re scared! You think I don’t see that? You think I’m not scared too?!”

“Then say it! Do something! Stop shutting down every single time it gets hard!”

Beth threw her arms up. “Jesus, Viv, enough! You nag and nag—”

“I’m pregnant. I’m not nagging, I’m fighting to hold on to who we are,” Viv shot back, her voice sharp.

“Well, maybe save some of that energy for later, because I’ll be the one stuck cleaning up this whole fucking mess when you’re lying on the floor crying again.”

Viv’s mouth fell open. The room seemed to shrink around her.

“What… did you just say?”

Beth realized a second too late how brutal it sounded. “Viv, I didn’t mean—”

“No! You meant exactly that!”

She pointed at the wreckage, at the chaos spread across the room. “I’m the one who cries. I’m the one who makes a mess. And you’re the victim who has to clean it all up?”

“That’s not—”

Viv slammed her palm against her chest. “I’m breaking, Beth! My body is in overdrive. My mind too. And the only thing I’ve ever asked is that you be here. Not with a mop. Not with a bucket. With your heart. But you’re… empty. You’ve already left.”

Beth’s breathing quickened. She wanted to fight back, but with what?

Viv drew in a sharp breath. “If you won’t talk, then I will. To people who’ll listen. To this baby. To myself.”

Beth’s irritation flared. “What, are you threatening me with therapy now? Or a breakup, or—”

“With the truth! And that’s what terrifies you, isn’t it?”

Beth stared at her, chest rising and falling, her breath heavy.

Come on, Beth. You have to do it now. If she still means anything to you, it has to be now. Okay. Do it.

“Viv… I—”

“Save it, Beth. I don’t need your apologies again. I’ve heard every single one of them.”

Viv shook her head and turned away, her eyes falling on a stack of unopened mail on the table.

In a sudden flash of fury, she grabbed the letters and flung them off the table. Paper scattered everywhere, fluttering down between the plants, under the chairs, across the couch.

But one envelope remained… Sitting perfectly in the middle of the table, as if glued in place.

A white envelope. Thin, light. But marked with a logo Viv recognized instantly.

Three lions. Dark blue. An official letterhead…

Viv’s breath caught. Slowly, she stepped toward the table. Her fingers trembled as she picked it up.

“What’s this doing here?”

Beth said nothing. Her gaze darted to the floor, then to the wall, then briefly to Viv. Anywhere but the letter.

“What. Is. This. Letter. Doing. Here?” Viv’s voice was sharper now, demanding.

Beth cleared her throat. “Viv…”

Viv narrowed her eyes, her voice slicing through the air. “Say it! Say it out loud! That you got this letter. That you opened it. That you… hid it!”

Beth drew in a deep breath. There was no escape now. Her voice came out cautious, almost small. “They called a few weeks ago. About the Euros.”

Viv’s eyes widened. “The Euros?”

“They only have three fit wingers. It’s tight. Really tight. They asked if I… as a backup… would be available, just in case.”

Viv bit her lip, and then suddenly her voice flared with rage. “Just in case!? Beth, you’re retired!?”

“I know. But it’s the Euros. England. They didn’t ask me for some friendly against Slovenia or something,” Beth tried to defend herself.

“So YOU’RE GOING!?”, Viv shouted, her voice echoing through the room.

Beth flinched at the tone, but didn’t take a step back.

“It’s not confirmed yet. I haven’t said yes. I just thought… maybe… if it’s really necessary…”

Viv shook with fury. “You thought what? That you’d just fly back and forth between childbirth prep and the national team? That you’d maybe take the baby along in a carrier to a press conference?”

“It’s only for a maximum of five weeks…”

Viv laughed bitterly, anger twisting her voice. “Five weeks? One week before my due date? Jesus, Beth!”

“I’d be back in time…”

“For what? The birth photos if he comes early? The first cry? Or do you think I’ll just handle all of that by myself while you relive your old glory on the field?”

“That’s not fair, Viv!”

Viv snapped back. “No, that is exactly fair! Do you know what’s not fair? This. This lie. This hiding. You’ve been somewhere else in your head for three weeks, and I’ve been thinking it’s me. The baby. All the stress, all the fear for what’s coming.”

She pointed at the envelope in her hand, her arm shaking violently.

Viv’s voice softened, but the edge was sharp. “And all this time, it was just… your career. Again! Always that damn football!”

“That’s not true! You have no idea how hard this is for me! How many nights I’ve tossed and turned, how many times I almost texted ‘no’ back,” Beth yelled.

“But you didn’t say no, Beth. You didn’t say anything. To me. And that says everything.”

Beth looked at her. Every part of her body wanted to move, to step toward Viv, take her hand, make it right. But her feet stayed rooted to the floor.

“We’re going to be parents soon, Beth. And you still think you only have to run when a whistle blows.”

Beth wanted to speak, but the words stuck in her throat.

Viv’s breathing was heavy, her face flushed. She gripped the letter so tightly in her hand that the edge cut into her skin. Then she let it drop.

She whispered, icy and sharp: “There’s only room here for one fight. And that’s ours. Or not!”

Again, nothing came from Beth. No words, no reaction. She looked defeated. Exhausted.

But Viv wasn’t done—she wouldn’t let it rest there.

“Five weeks, Beth! FIVE! You want to be at the Euros at week thirty-nine of my pregnancy!?”

“Not play…? Back-up. Only if…,” she murmured softly.

“Back-up, reserve, coach, star player, mascot… I don’t give a fuck! You’re gone anyway! GONE! While I’m here alone, praying our son stays put until you get back!”

Beth tried to breathe, but the words caught her. Viv’s rage was a storm, and she was right in the middle of it.

Viv stormed toward her, eyes blazing. “What did you think? That I’d just do this alone? That maybe you’d pop up on FaceTime if he came early? Cheering from the sidelines while I’m huffing and puffing in a birthing pool?!”

“It wouldn’t be a premature birth, Viv…” Beth tried to reason.

“I don’t give a fuck what the midwife says. It can always happen, Beth!”

Beth saw the shift in Viv’s face. The redness turning into a grayish pallor, exhaustion written all over her features. She needed to calm her down.

“Viv… love. Calm down. You shouldn’t…”

Viv snorted angrily. “Calm down? You’re seriously telling me to calm down? I’m trying to prepare as best I can for the arrival of our child and you’re playing ‘football comes first’ again.”

“That’s not fair,” Beth muttered.

“Oh, come on. It’s always about your career. Always! Even now! Even now that you supposedly stopped.”

Beth felt irritation rising but held herself back. “It’s the Euros, Viv. For England. They asked me. That’s not nothing.”

Viv snapped back, sharp. “And this then? Is this nothing?”

She pointed to her belly. Viv’s breath caught, visibly shaken. She rubbed her side gently. The baby kicked softly, a tiny protest, as if sensing the storm around them.

Beth saw it immediately and rushed to her. “Are you okay? Feeling anything? Sit down…”

Viv pushed her hand away. “Don’t touch me.”

“Viv… you really need to try to stay calm. For the baby.”

“Oh, so now you’re suddenly worried about the baby? Three weeks ago you were already planning how you’d survive the next weeks without him?”

Beth let out a desperate sigh. “That’s not true.”

Viv slammed her hand wearily against her forehead. “Then what is true, Beth? Because I don’t know anymore. Seriously. Was everything I felt these past weeks just… because you didn’t dare to say you’d already been packing your bags?”

“That wasn’t me. I just… I needed time to think if…”

“TIME?! I don’t have time, Beth! I’m on the verge of giving birth. And you needed time?!”

Beth blinked rapidly. She knew she’d screwed up. There was nothing she could say to undo Viv’s words. Still, she tried.

“I thought maybe I could… just… take something back for myself one more time.”

Viv didn’t understand. “Take back? From who? From me? From him?”

She pressed a hand to her belly. “You don’t even see this child as something of your own, do you?”

Beth was shocked. “That’s not true. Of course not!”

“Then you would have stayed, Beth.”

Beth bit her lip lightly, but said nothing. It felt pointless—like she’d already lost.

Viv stared at her, unflinching. “I thought I was scared of giving birth. But this… this is way scarier. You!”

Beth turned and walked toward the kitchen, as if she needed to escape the heat for a moment. Viv stayed put, chest rising and falling, hand trembling over her belly.

It was as if they both felt something had snapped.

Viv’s gaze landed on the ultrasound photo in a frame. She grabbed it and hurled it to the floor, glass shattering across the laminate. Then she stormed to the trophy cabinet, seized Beth’s 2022 Euro medal, and smashed that hard against the floor too.

“Everything is breaking! My life, our life, even this little piece of hope I had left. This! Our baby! And you just stand there acting like it’s nothing!”

Beth stepped back, and something else bubbled up inside her—a new kind of irritation, as if the brakes had come off everything she’d been trying to save.

“Maybe you should stop whining like the world revolves around you. Not everything is always about you, Viv!”

Viv laughed bitterly. “Oh really? So you think a football tournament is more important than our child? Than your pregnant girlfriend? That you can just walk away while I’m about to burst? What are you, actually? Selfish? Cold? No idea what it means to fight?”

Beth’s eyes flashed. She clenched her teeth hard. “Selfish? Seriously? You’re the one who ruins everything with your whining and crying. I can’t do anything with your constant nagging. You destroy everything with your endless drama!”

“Drama? Drama? This is my life, Beth! My body is about to fall apart. And you? You only think about yourself! You think about that stupid Euros like it’s a ticket to escape this mess. You’re not even ready to be a mother!”

Beth knew she’d gone too far, that she was at fault for everything—but something in Viv’s fury unlocked a defensive fire in her. It was pure helplessness, though she hadn’t recognized it yet.

“You know nothing about me or my life, Viv. You’re so wrapped up in yourself that you don’t even see what I’m carrying. You’re just… just… a....”

Viv’s face twisted, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“A what? Tell me! Well, you’re so selfish, leaving me when I need you the most. You leave me here, week 35, 36, 37, 38, 39… alone with this child.”

Beth growled low. “Maybe I’m done being the punching bag for your misery. Maybe I want to breathe without your whining and drama. It’s always you, you, you!”

Viv’s voice broke. “Then fight alone! I can’t anymore! You’re always wrapped up in yourself. I’m losing my mind here. You’re not the person I loved anymore. You’ve turned into someone who only thinks about herself.”

Beth shook with rage and grief, her voice fragile. “Everything has to go your way. Like you decide everything. Well, you know what? I’m done! I can’t take this anymore!”

Viv’s fury softened into a strangled sob. “Maybe then you should leave. Leave here. Leave my life. Because this can’t go on like this.”

Beth looked at her, furious and heartbroken. “Maybe… maybe I will.”

A heavy silence fell. The pain hung thick in the air. They stared at each other, exhausted and broken.

“This… is it then?” Viv whispered softly.

Beth nodded, her eyes glistening with tears. “Maybe…”

Both sank onto the couch. Beth crossed her arms, Viv letting the tears stream endlessly down her face.

In one last desperate attempt, Beth tried to salvage something, to speak calmly this time.

“Viv… I really have to go. The Euros… England has given me so much. It’s not something I can just walk away from.”

Viv shook her head, a lump rising in her throat. “Go, Beth! Go! Just go. I’m leaving. Away from everything. Away from you! I hope you lose!”

Beth stared at her, stunned. She knew the words had landed, but Viv sounded too sincere, too honest, too real.

“Where are you going, Viv? Talk to me.”

Viv half-turned, her voice sharp and resolute. “That’s none of your business. You don’t need to know. I’m leaving.”

Beth stepped forward, trying to hold her, but Viv shook her hand away.

“Please, Viv. Let’s fix this. Talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to fix. Not with you. Not now.”

Viv walked with firm steps to the bedroom. Her heart pounded in her chest, her hands trembling as she opened the closet and grabbed her bag, quickly stuffing in some clothes.

Beth followed. “Viv… where are you going?” she asked softly, but urgently.

Viv stopped. “I’m not telling you.”

“So… you’re avoiding me again? Like always?”

Viv turned, her eyes glistening with tears. “This is different. This is a taste of your own medicine, Beth. I can’t do this anymore. I need to get away.”

Beth took another step closer, reaching for Viv in an attempt to hold her.

“Come on, let me hold you, please. You’re upset, Viv. We have to do this together.”

Viv shoved her hand away again, her eyes sharp and warning, screaming silently that she must not be touched again.

“Don’t touch me! Leave me alone! This is my body! My belly! My decision!”

Beth’s frustration lingered, but something in her softened.

“Viv… I’m worried. This isn’t just about you. I just want to know that you’re okay.”

Viv’s anger boiled over. Her breathing was heavy, her eyes stinging with tears and rage.

“Do you seriously think I’m okay? That I can stay calm here while you’re about to leave? Do you think I’m okay after my girlfriend just told me she’s leaving me here alone, that I’m apparently no longer a priority to her? That I can stay calm while you go off to a tournament in Switzerland like it’s the most normal thing in the world?”

Beth tried reaching out again, but Viv turned away.

“Don’t touch me, Beth! I can’t take this anymore! Don’t think this is just some decision you can brush off later by suddenly being sweet.”

Beth let out a long sigh. “Viv… I don’t want to make this worse. I don’t want you to leave.”

Viv laughed bitterly, grabbing her bag from the bed. “Too late. I’m leaving! And I’m not telling you where.”

Beth took another step closer, panic rising higher and higher in her throat.

“Viv, if you just talk to me for a minute, maybe we can find a solution.”

Viv’s eyes blazed, disbelief etched across her face, as if she couldn’t comprehend Beth’s words.

“No solution! No talking! I need to get away from you, from everything, from us!”

Beth tried to grab her arm, but Viv spun around in fury and shoved her away again.

“Let me go! You’re suffocating me! Go away!”

Beth recoiled at the intensity, but didn’t let go. She had to beg—there was no other option.

“Please, Viv… I don’t want you to leave. I won’t… I’ll text Sarina I’m not coming… Please.”

Viv didn’t respond and kept walking. Beth couldn’t handle it anymore.

“Fine, then! Go, Viv!”

Viv clutched her bag tighter and moved toward the door, opening it and glancing back one last time.

“Go ahead! Cry! Scream! Hate me if you want! I’m gone!”

And then she slammed the door shut with a harsh bang.

Beth was left behind, defeated and powerless. She felt the void Viv left behind like an icy emptiness. And only now did she realize what she had been chasing so desperately these past weeks. Now it was too late.

She should have said no. She should have refused. But always, that damned football!

“Fuck…”

She stumbled down the stairs. Her gaze drifted across the chaos. Cushions overturned everywhere, the framed ultrasound shattered on the floor, her medal chipped and lost among the mess.

She let out a deep sigh. Her hands trembled slightly as she made a futile attempt to bring some order to the wreckage.

“Was it all worth it, Beth? Your child, your girlfriend? For a bit of football? No…” she whispered to herself.

She stayed still. Her eyes searched for a trace of hope, but the silence crushed her. The silence felt so different from the warmth, hopeful silence she knew with Viv.

Slowly, she bent toward an overturned vase and carefully swept up the shards. Her thoughts drifted back to Viv: the tears, the rage, the pain in her eyes.

She could still hear Viv’s voice echoing in her head, the snapping words like knives stabbing at her heart.

But Viv wasn’t to blame. It was her own fault...

With a deep sigh, she straightened and walked back toward the bedroom. Every step felt heavy. There lay her phone, on the nightstand, with Sarina’s message still open:

Let me know by the day after tomorrow at the latest.

Her thumb hovered hesitantly over the keyboard.

Beth closed her eyes, taking a moment to steady her breathing. Her hand moved toward the bag she had secretly packed, hidden under their bed.

She pulled the bag out and felt the soft material glide beneath her fingers.

How had it spiraled like this? How could their world break apart so fast?

She remembered Viv’s gaze, her tears, her fury. The words they had said, the things that might never be forgotten.

Yet, somewhere in all of it, a small fragment of understanding was beginning to grow.

This wouldn’t be fixed by tomorrow. The damage was already done. And somewhere deep down, she knew it would still be the wrong choice.

She needed to think, to take her time—not make a decision in the middle of this chaos.

But her thumbs had already typed the five letters before she could pause.

I’m coming.

She hit send.

And there was no turning back now.

Chapter Text

The rain didn’t fall in drops but in long, dragging strands, drawn slantwise by a restless wind.

Viv pulled her hood tighter around her face, but it was useless. The cold water streamed down her temples, slid along her jawline, and dripped steadily onto her collar.

Her steps were heavy—not just from the chill, but from the weight she carried at her center.

Thirty-four weeks pregnant.

Shuffling through a storm. Alone.

Each step sank her deeper into the soaked pavement. Her shoes clung stubbornly with every lift, releasing only with a wet schlop-schlop.

She didn’t know where she was going, or where she could possibly go. Only that she had to leave.

Away from Beth’s eyes—those eyes turned so cold, so unyielding.

Away from the words that had cut deeper than she had ever thought they could.

She turned the corner, passing a row of houses whose windows glowed with warmth. Inside, people sat on couches with wine and platters, a movie flickering on the television.

The contrast hit her like a blade straight into her gut.

Suddenly, a sharp cramp shot through her belly, halting her in place. Her hands flew forward, instinctively cupping her stomach in protection.

“Ssshh, easy, little one… mama’s here,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

She brushed a wet strand of hair from her face, her hand shaking.

“We’re just going to sit for a moment, okay? Mama needs to catch her breath.”

Under a streetlamp, she spotted a wooden bench, slick and glistening with rain. Unsteady, she made her way over and sank down.

Slowly, she stroked the curve of her belly, feeling the baby shift and wiggle beneath her touch.

“I know… this isn’t how it’s supposed to be. You’re meant to feel us together. Not… this mess.”

She inhaled through her nose, exhaled slowly through her mouth, the way the midwife had taught her for moments when the baby grew restless.

Rain drummed hard against the metal armrest. Cars hissed past, tires throwing up sheets of water. She closed her eyes for a moment, but the tension refused to ease.

After half a minute, she dug into her coat pocket and pulled out her phone. Her fingers, stiff and icy, barely managed to press against the screen.

No missed calls...

No messages from Beth.

No: 'Sorry'

No: 'Where are you?'

No: 'Can we talk?'

Something cracked inside her chest.

Was this how the silent treatment looks like?

Being pregnant. In the rain. Cold. No fight to keep her home? No arms reaching out to pull her back?

With a frown, she opened Instagram. Her thumb scrolled on autopilot. First Beth’s account… no new photos, no stories.

Then the sports pages, the fan pages, the English football media…

Nothing.

No headlines about Beth reporting to the Lionesses. No quotes, no training shots. No breaking news on SkySports.

Even the official Lionesses page remained silent.

Softly, Viv whispered to herself, “So she hasn’t said it yet. She’s holding back. Waiting… but for what? For me to collapse so she can say she had no choice? Waiting until I tell her to go, so it looks like it’s fine for her to be there?”

She snapped her phone shut and let it fall beside her on the bench. A tear slid down her cheek, merging with the rain.

Before she knew it, another followed. And then another…

She wiped at her face with her sleeve, but it didn’t help. Her eyes burned, her lips trembled. She pulled the hood tighter around her head, as if hiding could make it all disappear.

She just sat there. One minute… two… it felt like hours.

The cold seeped in, creeping through her clothes. Her toes tingled, her fingers numbed.

The baby stirred restlessly, tiny kicks pressing insistently against her ribs.

“I’ve got you… I’m carrying you. Just hold on a little longer, my little boy.”

The streets stretched endlessly ahead. Each step felt heavier and her calves burned like crazy. She clung to a lamppost as she crossed the street, breath ragged and shallow.

“Almost there, baby… we’re almost there.”

Her palm moved in soft circles over the tight, chilled skin of her belly, as if she could soothe him, as if touch alone could promise safety.

She finally caught sight of a building ahead, the one place that might take her in right now.

The steps up to the entryway felt impossibly steep, but she clutched the railing and hauled herself upward.

And there it was—the familiar wooden door. Lotte’s door.

With a cold, trembling hand, she pressed the bell. The door opened almost instantly.

Lotte stood there, her messy bun lopsided on her head, an oversized hoodie draped over her frame. Her eyes widened in shock the moment she saw Viv.

“Viv… what on earth… you’re soaked through. I told you, you’ve got to take it easy with that belly of yours!”

She grabbed Viv gently by the arm and pulled her inside. “Come on, shoes off. You’ll slip if you don’t.”

Viv nodded but didn’t speak. Lotte slid the heavy coat from her shoulders and peeled the wet sweater from her skin with careful hands.

Within minutes, she had Viv naked, cocooned on the couch in a fleece blanket, freed at last from the icy grip of her drenched clothes.

Lotte disappeared into the kitchen for a moment and returned with a steaming mug of tea.

“Here. Small sips, okay? You’re freezing.”

Viv opened her mouth, but no words came.

Immediately, Lotte rested a hand on her knee. “You don’t have to tell me anything, Viv. Not now. Only when you’re ready.”

Viv gave the faintest nod, watching as Lotte slipped back into the kitchen again, this time returning with a warm brownie in her hand.

“Here. I figured you and this little baby in here could use some sugar. This will help.”

Viv’s hands trembled as she wrapped them around the mug, balancing the brownie carefully on her lap.

She took tiny sips, small bites, letting the warmth spread down her throat, into her chest—but inside, the cold still clung stubbornly.

Lotte sat down beside her, not too close, not too far. Her knees bent slightly, her hands resting loosely in her lap. She watched Viv with a quiet, worried gaze.

“Do you… want me to say something?” Lotte asked softly.

“Or would you rather stay in silence? That’s fine too.”

Viv parted her lips, but no words came from her trembling mouth.

She set the mug down carefully, inched closer to Lotte, and let herself collapse into her best friend’s arms. It wasn’t a careful movement—more a desperate surrender.

Lotte wrapped her arm around her without a second’s hesitation. It took only moments before the first sob tore through Viv’s chest.

Then more came… deeper, heavier, her whole body shaking with them.

“Shhh… it’s okay, Viv. I’ve got you.”

Lotte rocked her gently, almost without realizing she was doing it.

“Breathe, Viv… in… out… Do you want me to call Beth?”

Viv jolted upright, panic flashing sharp in her eyes. “No… no… don’t call her.”

“Okay, okay, Viv. I won’t. No reason to panic more,” Lotte soothed, her hands lifted slightly in surrender.

But Viv couldn’t stop it. The tears kept coming, unrestrained, spilling down her cheeks. She cried without words, the sound caught somewhere between frustration, grief, and sheer exhaustion.

Minutes passed before her breathing eased enough to let words through. When they finally came, her voice was soft, raw.

“It’s… it’s broken, Lot.”

“What is?” Lotte asked gently.

Viv’s fingers trembled as she lifted her face from Lotte’s hoodie. Her eyes stayed on the carpet, as if it were easier to confess to the floor than to a friend.

“Beth. Me. Us. Everything.”

Lotte’s hand pressed lightly against her arm, a small gesture of comfort.

“Tell me what happened.”

Viv swallowed hard. Her throat felt tight, as if every word had to fight its way through the narrowest space.

“It started with cleaning. I suddenly got this urge. Everything had to go. Everything that… that hadn’t been talked about. Everything that felt dirty had to be gone. And then Beth came downstairs…”

She closed her eyes for a moment, drawing a shaky, deep breath.

“She told me to stop, that it was bad for the baby. And I… I snapped at her. And then… then she said something…”

Lotte tilted her head, searching for a way in. “What did she say, Viv?”

Viv’s voice cracked. “She said that she’d be the one cleaning up the mess if I suddenly couldn’t manage. As if it wasn’t her mess… As if…”

She shook her head violently. “And then it was about the letter.”

Lotte’s eyebrows knitted together. “Letter?”

“There was one on the table. With the three lions logo. You know, the one you should have gotten too, but didn’t.”

Viv’s eyes flashed sharply, even now, as if she were back there with Beth, reliving the same argument all over again.

“She was already asked by Sarina. For the Euros. And she hasn’t said a thing. Nothing at all. She knew for weeks, but said nothing.”

Lotte opened her mouth, then paused, saying nothing, while Viv wiped her wet cheeks with the back of her hand.

“Then I… I exploded. I mean, Lot… week thirty-four. I'm thirty-four weeks pregnant. And she wants to be gone for five weeks. To Switzerland. For a fucking tournament. While I… am alone…”

Her breath caught. She placed both hands on her belly, as if to remind herself she wasn’t completely alone.

“I said things… things that were ugly. She did too. Really ugly. Things I can’t take back. And… I destroyed her medal. From the last Euros.”

Lotte’s eyes widened. “Jesus, Viv.”

“I know… But she said the Euros would be a good escape from my… my whining.”

For a moment, only the tapping of the rain against the windows filled the room.

“I can’t look at her anymore. But I carry our child, Lot. What am I supposed to do? How can I… do this?”

Her voice broke again, and the tears came anew. Lotte shifted slightly closer, wrapping her other arm firmly around Viv and pulling her in.

“You don’t have to do anything right now, Viv. No decisions. Just breathe. Get warm and stay put where it’s safe.”

Viv nodded against her shoulder, but her eyes stayed closed.

Minutes passed. Lotte’s gaze sharpened slowly, but not in judgment—more like someone trying to see all the pieces of a puzzle before forming an opinion.

How had it come to this? Beth and Viv? To everyone else, they had been a match made in heaven. Some days, Beth couldn’t keep her hands off Viv. But now… how had it gone so wrong?

She had to try something.

“Viv… I don’t want you to have to relive it all over again, but I think maybe you need to—for yourself.”

Viv shook her head slowly. “I don’t want to… It was so ugly.”

“I know. But what I’m hearing now are just fragments. I want to know how it started. Why you suddenly… exploded. You’re not someone who just has a cleaning frenzy out of nowhere. Especially not in this state.”

Viv looked away at the window, rain hammering against the glass.

“It started with silence. Beth has been… strange lately. Distant. Like her mind was somewhere else. But she never said anything. I just felt that something was off. And yesterday… everything felt contaminated. With things left unsaid… with secrets.”

Lotte nodded slowly. “And then you started cleaning?”

Viv let out a deep sigh. “Yes. Everything out of the cupboards. All the drawers emptied. Scrubbing the kitchen cabinets. It was like I could clean it out. The unspoken things from Beth. And then she came downstairs.”

Viv shrugged, but her eyes darkened.

“She told me to stop. Said it was bad for the baby. As if I didn’t already know. And I… I snapped back. Something about her suddenly caring so much about the baby again after weeks of strange behaviour. And then…”

Her throat tightened. “Then she said that she would be the one cleaning up the mess if I felt unwell.”

Lotte’s eyebrows shot up. “She actually said that, Viv?”

Viv nodded. “And I… I got angry. Really angry. And then I saw that letter on the table. With the three lions. I knew immediately what it was. She’s been called up for the Euros. And she said nothing. Absolutely nothing!”

“And then?” Lotte whispered.

Viv swallowed again. “Then there was no turning back. She tried to explain that the Lionesses only have three wingers, that she really had to go. But Lot…”

Tears welled up in her eyes again. “Just that word—have to—felt like a dagger. Like she had to choose. And she didn’t choose me. Didn’t choose our child.”

Lotte stayed silent, letting the words hang in the air.

“And then… things were said.”

Viv looked down at her hands. “Unforgivable things. I… I broke her medal from the last Euros. And she said the tournament would be a good escape from my whining.”

Her voice cracked. “As if I… as if we…”

She pressed her hands protectively against her belly.

Lotte’s gaze softened, but stayed firm. “Viv… what did you say to her?”

Viv’s cheeks flushed as she shook her head. “That she’s selfish. That she’d rather be with that stupid team than with us. That she’s not ready for this… for being a mother.”

Her voice trembled. “And I said I hope she loses. That she fails there, so maybe she’ll understand how this feels.”

Lotte blinked slowly. “My God, Viv... And now you feel guilty?”

Viv nodded, tears streaming freely down her face. “Not just toward her… but mostly toward…”

She stroked her belly gently. “Toward our son. He heard everything, Lot. Everything. All those ugly words… That can’t be good, right? That has to be bad?”

Lotte leaned closer and placed her hand over Viv’s, resting it softly on her belly.

“Listen… this little one can feel that you love him. Even now. Especially now. You’re protecting him. He's with you. A fight—even a really ugly one—doesn’t change that.”

Viv’s breathing was quick, shallow, as if at any moment she could spiral out of control again.

“Viv, listen to me… you don’t have to say anything right now. Really.”

Viv shook her head violently. “No… I have to—”

“No. Right now you don’t have to do anything at all! You’re panicked. Your heart’s racing. You’re shaking! If you keep talking now, you’ll only spiral further.”

“I… I just want to… I can’t… she—”

Lotte took her by the wrists, gentle but firm.

“Shh. Pause for a moment. You can sort it all out later. But right now, you need to breathe. Okay?”

Viv looked at her, eyes red and swollen. Finally, she nodded, small and tentative, as if even she could feel she couldn’t hold on any longer.

“We’re going to watch something. Something not about football, not about England. Something silly. Something weird. Something with animals,” Lotte suggested, grabbing the remote.

“Animals?”

“Yeah. Animals are safe. Monkeys, penguins, I don’t know. They don’t judge. They don’t send invitations for an international tournament.”

A documentary about monkeys appeared on the screen. Slowly, Viv’s breathing began to deepen. Every now and then a sob slipped out, but Lotte was right there to steady her.

“They’re just like people… only with less drama.”

Viv’s lips twitched in a faint smile. “Maybe I should go live there. In a monkey colony. No phones, no medals…”

“And no Beth…” Lotte added quietly.

Viv stayed silent. She stared at the screen, but her eyes betrayed her—her thoughts were already back with Beth.

“I can’t stop thinking. What if she’s already decided? What if she just leaves? Without saying anything? Not even one last message?”

Lotte shook her head. “You won’t solve anything by spinning yourself in circles, Viv. You need to ground yourself a bit before you can figure out what you want. Otherwise, it’ll just stay chaos here.”

She tapped gently on Viv’s temple.

“And here…” She laid her hand lightly on Viv’s belly.

Viv bit her lip, but nodded softly. “Thank you.”

Lotte smiled faintly. “That’s my job, Viv. Being your best friend, baking brownies, and putting on monkeys as a distraction.”

“But later, we’ll have to talk. About what I want to do with her.”

“Later, yes, Viv. But not now. Right now it’s you, me, the blanket, and the monkeys. That’s it.”

Viv nodded slowly, letting her shoulders drop for the first time in hours.

Little by little, the documentary came to an end, and Lotte switched off the TV during the closing credits. The hard conversation still had to come. Viv still needed help navigating it…

“Viv… you can stay here, you know. As long as you want. Even until after the birth. Until the baby’s here, and longer if you need.”

Viv looked up slowly, as if the words barely registered.

“Lotte, I can’t… I just can’t—”

“Yes, you can. You don’t have to go back to that house. Not while you feel like this. I have space. And you need to be safe and calm for the next few weeks. That’s more important than anything else.”

Viv let out a short, hollow laugh. “Safe… calm… Lotte, I don’t want to live here forever. Not to be mean, but I just want Beth to be clear. To say no. To prove that… that I… that we…”

“That you’re a priority,” Lotte finished for her.

Viv nodded vigorously. “Yes. That she puts us first. Me. Our baby. Not that stupid Euro's, not Sarina, not those three lions printed on paper on the table.”

Her breath hitched. “I… I want my Beth back. Not the stranger I saw today. That version of her… it was scary. Like I was looking at someone I didn’t even know.”

Lotte scooted a little closer, resting her hand on Viv’s knee.

“Maybe it’s just a phase. Stress, pressure… she might not even know how to handle it herself.”

“A phase? We have six weeks, Lot! Six! Then there’s a baby in that house. And she’s thinking about… pff… England!”

She slammed her hand hard against the armrest. “This isn’t a phase. This is a choice. And if she’s already choosing them now, what about later?”

A brief silence fell. Lotte kept her gaze on Viv, but chose her words carefully.

“Viv, I know you don’t want to hear this. But maybe you need to consider that Beth might make that choice. And then you need to know what you’re going to do.”

“What I do? I don’t know anything. I just want things to go back to how they were. Waking up together, coffee, her stupid jokes… So our baby gets to know Beth. Not that stranger from earlier.”

Lotte scooted even closer and took Viv’s other hand in hers.

“I get it. That’s why I’m offering—come stay here temporarily. As long as you need. Let her figure out what she wants. You need to do what’s right for you and the baby.”

“But Lot… if I say yes to your offer, it feels like I’m giving up. Like I’m admitting we’re broken.”

“Or maybe it means you’re fighting. Just in a way that doesn’t break you.”

Viv opened her eyes again. She swallowed and exhaled deeply. “Okay. I’ll stay. For now.”

Lotte squeezed her hand gently. “For now. And tomorrow we’ll see.”

Lotte stood, steady and resolute. Her gaze was warm, but strong.

“Come on, Viv, you really need to shower. Wash it all off. Come on, I’ll help you.”

Viv shook her head hesitantly. Her hands hovered protectively over her belly, where the movements felt stronger, sharper, more painful.

“I don’t know, Lot… my belly…”

Lotte gently took her arm, careful not to force her. “I’ll stay with you. It’ll help.”

Slowly, Viv stepped under the shower. The hot water hit her skin, making her close her eyes for a moment. But it didn’t feel soothing; it felt like a burning stream.

“Lot…”

A sudden sharp movement from inside her made her clutch her belly, as if trying to support the baby herself.

“Stay calm, Viv. I’m here.”

But then Lotte felt it too—the tension, the panic building in Viv.

“It hurts, Lot. It’s getting worse.”

Quickly, Lotte turned off the water and helped Viv out of the shower, immediately wrapping her in a thick, warm towel.

“You’re doing amazing. You’re so strong, Viv. Remember that.”

She carefully guided Viv to the guest room, where an electric blanket had already been turned on.

“Here, lie down. This might help a little.”

Viv sank onto the bed, her eyes wide with pain and exhaustion. Lotte sat beside her, took her hand, and looked at her.

“Your baby feels everything, Viv. Everything you feel reaches him. It leaves an impression.”

Viv swallowed, her lips trembling slightly. “I want it to stop, Lot. Not just for me, but for him too. I don’t know if Beth will ever understand that.”

Lotte squeezed her hand. “You’re not alone, okay? We’ll get through this together. You and your baby. First, you take care of yourself. Then we’ll see what happens with Beth.”

Viv sighed deeply. “I just want things to be okay again. For everything to feel normal again.”

Lotte wrapped an arm around her. “We’ll try, step by step. But first, rest. I can maybe ease some of the pain with a little massage on your back and shoulders. Only if you want. It might help you relax a bit.”

Viv swallowed, feeling the tears welling up again.

“I… I don’t know. It’s so strange. I want it, but it’s not Beth doing it. It’s your hands, Lot. And it’s not the same.”

She raised a hand and wiped the back of it across her wet eyes.

“I want her, Lot. I want Beth’s hands, her touch, her scent… But when I think of her, everything inside me breaks.”

Lotte held her gaze, soft and understanding. “That’s completely understandable, Viv. It’s terrible to feel like this, stuck in the middle of something so heartbreaking.”

Viv bit her lip and took a deep breath. “I want her back… Mama Beth. The woman I knew, the one who would always put me and our baby first. But now… I just can’t face her.”

Her voice cracked again. “I want her scent, her voice, but I don’t want her near me. Not now. Not after everything that’s been said.”

Lotte gently rocked her. “It’s okay to feel this way. It’s allowed to be here. You can say it, cry it out. No one expects you to fix everything right now.”

Viv sobbed loudly. “I feel so powerless, Lot. Like I’m drowning in everything that’s gone wrong. I don’t know what I want. I want Beth, but I don’t. I want her love, but not her pain.”

“You’re not alone, Viv. I’m here. We can figure out what you need, bit by bit.”

Viv exhaled shakily. “But it’s so hard. I want to make things right, I want hope. But it feels like everything is broken… How can I trust it’ll be okay again? With a baby who feels everything?”

“Your baby feels love too, even when it’s hard. You’ll get through this, Viv.”

Viv slowly let herself relax. “Thank you, Lotte. Really. For who you are.”

Soft, calming music filled the bedroom. It was Lotte’s way of pushing the chaos out, creating a space where Viv could breathe, free from the weight of all those heavy thoughts.

Viv lay on her back now, her shoulders still trembling lightly from the tears she had shed. One hand rested protectively on her belly, where the little life inside moved more insistently with each passing moment. The movements were tense, as if trying to speak.

“Calm down, little one. Mama’s here. We’ll get through this together, remember? I promise, no matter what happens, I’ll always fight for you. Always.”

She felt the warmth of her hands against the coolness of her belly, as if shielding the tiny being from the storm raging both outside and within her.

Lotte watched as Viv’s breathing grew deeper, more even. She saw the struggle in her best friend—the battle not to completely break under the weight of grief, anger, and uncertainty.

“You’re doing so well, Viv. You’re strong.”

Viv nodded, but no words came. The music, the warmth, the gentle stroke of Lotte’s hand—they were slowly working their quiet magic.

Her eyelids grew heavy, her head slowly tipping forward almost on its own. The tears had drained her, and she drifted into a peace she hadn’t felt in ages.

“You’re safe here. I won’t leave you alone.”

Viv sank into a deep, quiet sleep. Her body relaxed, the unrest in her chest easing slightly, as if the baby inside her was soothing her with soft little kicks.

But the silence shattered abruptly. The gentle piano playing was replaced by a loud, insistent noise that echoed through the bedroom.

Viv woke with a start, her eyes snapping open, her heart pounding wildly in her chest.

The presenter’s voice came through, solemn and unyielding. “Breaking News. Beth Mead has officially been confirmed for the European Championship in Switzerland. She will arrive tomorrow morning to join the squad. With Beth Mead, the young team gains a wealth of experience, and the winger problem appears to be solved.”

Images flashed across the screen—Beth smiling in her football kit, the Lionesses logo clear and bright.

Viv felt her breath catch, as if the air had been ripped from her lungs. Her hand slid off her belly, as if letting go of the last thing she was holding onto.

“No… this can’t be happening.”

Tears welled up in her eyes again, but this time it felt more like a roaring storm of anger and despair.

“This is it. No more doubt. No more hope. She’s choosing herself. Always!”

Lotte looked at her with concerned eyes. “Viv, you can’t be so hard on yourself. This isn’t your fault.”

“My fault… That’s what she said! She acts like nothing here matters. Like I don’t matter!”

Her voice grew hoarse. “I want her here. Now! Not later! But she’s not here, damn it!”

“Come on, try to breathe, Viv.”

But Viv wouldn’t give in. “Why should I breathe? What’s the point anymore? Everything I hoped for, everything I believed in… it’s gone.”

Her shoulders shook violently. “She’s already lost me. And I don’t know if I can ever trust that she’ll come back. Or if she’ll ever be the mother I need. And I don’t even know if I want her to have that role for my child anymore.”

Lotte held her tightly, but said nothing.

“How can she do this? Really… how?”

“Viv, I know this is awful, but I’m here with you.”

Viv shook her head, her gaze hard. “I had hope, Lot. I thought… maybe, if she really loved us, if she really needed us, she wouldn’t do this. But it’s all a lie. Everything she said, everything she ever promised me, it means nothing anymore.”

She slammed her fists hard against the mattress. “She’s leaving me here, alone, with everything. I don’t want it to be like this. I want her back. Not that woman on the screen, not the Beth who abandons everything. But I don’t know how…”

Lotte squeezed her hand gently. “Maybe she’s scared too, maybe she doesn’t know what to do.”

“Scared? She left me and our baby behind. How do you justify that?”

A sigh escaped Viv’s lips. “I want to hold her. I want her scent, her voice…”

Tears streamed again, and Viv closed her eyes for a moment. Her head rested against Lotte’s shoulder as one hand slid toward her belly.

“But I promise you, little one, I won’t give up. For you. For both of us.”

Despite the storm of anger raging inside her, the frustration taking its toll, her shoulders gradually relaxed, and her breathing slowed.

If Beth couldn’t keep her promises to their child, then Viv would.

She had promised to stay calm for their baby… so she had to.

Forever... No matter what!

Chapter Text

Beth sat in the row by gate C17. Her carry-on stood upright beside her, the handle pulled out as if she could rise at any moment and walk away. But she didn’t move.

Above her, sharp white letters glowed on the big digital board:

Zurich – BOARDING 07:40

There it is… Zurich. But if I step onto that plane, it will be real. Not a pause anymore, but distance. And I'm not sure if Viv would ever forgive me for that. Beth, you’re killing her.

She drew in a slow breath, though the air in her chest felt unbearably heavy.

The argument replayed again and again… Viv’s sharp tone, that single look—the one Beth herself had caused. The pain in her eyes, the helplessness, the anger…

The hum of the airport swelled around her. Children raced by with tiny suitcases, a man cursed softly as he spilled coffee down his trousers, and over the speakers someone was being summoned to hurry to their gate.

“Miss Mead?”

Beth looked up. Not a flight attendant, just a woman gently nudging her daughter forward. The girl wore a dark blue football shirt, far too big for her small frame, with MEAD 7 stretched across the back.

“Sorry to bother you… but my daughter is a huge fan. Would it be alright if she had a photo with you?”

Beth felt a pang in her chest, her smile faltering as the girl’s words sank in.

“Of course, come on over,” she said softly, though her mind was already racing.

The girl shuffled closer, eyes shining.

“I’m going to Zurich too. My mom already got tickets for the semifinals, because you’ll definitely make it there.”

Beth’s eyebrows shot up.

Tickets for the semifinals? We’ll make it? Are we really that good? Can others really see how much of a chance we have? Fuck… I’m really going to be gone for five weeks. I was only thinking of the quarterfinals…

She pushed the thought away quickly. “Oh… uh… yeah. That’s amazing.”

The girl nodded enthusiastically and leaned a little closer.

“I hope you win. But my mom just read online that your girlfriend was a little sad about it. I hope she feels better.”

The words hit Beth like a cold wind, cutting straight through her chest.

Shit… Viv… Even here… Even in the airport waiting area, someone brings her up. Shit… who told them? Viv? Fuck, I should never have done this.

Beth swallowed and gently placed her hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Thank you… that’s very sweet.”

The mother quickly snapped a few photos, thanked her politely, and took her daughter away. The girl turned back once more and waved, and Beth forced herself to look the other way.

But her mind had already drifted far away. She pulled her phone from her jacket pocket and opened every gossip channel and news page she could find. She scrolled frantically through her tagged posts.

Nothing… Nothing about Viv… Nothing about what’s going on between them… Still radio silence.

Okay, calm down, Beth. That girl probably just made it up. Everyone knows Viv is pregnant, maybe her mom just mentioned it. Nothing’s wrong. Right?

She sank back into her seat again. Her hand slid once more into her jacket pocket. The screen of her phone lit up. Her lockscreen.

There they were. She and Viv. A summer day by the water, Viv’s hair tangled by the wind, her laughter bright and real.

Beth traced the glass with her thumb, as if touching Viv’s cheek.

“God, Viv…,” she whispered softly.

She vaguely heard a voice over the intercom. “Gate C17 to Zurich is now open for boarding.”

But it didn’t register. Everything around her blurred into that one image.

If I just stay seated… I’ll miss it. Then I’ll go back… Then… Maybe I can still fix something between us.

A shadow fell over her. A young flight attendant, smiling but clearly in a hurry, leaned over her.

“Ms. Mead? We’re boarding now. If you could follow me?”

Beth nodded automatically, as if her body was on autopilot. She grabbed her carry-on and followed the woman down the jet bridge, which smelled of metal and kerosene.

Her footsteps echoed hollowly, but in her mind there was silence. No voices. Only Viv’s face lingered in front of her eyes.

On the plane, the flight attendant pointed to her seat. Beth slid her bag into the overhead compartment and clicked her seatbelt. She rested her head against the headrest and stared out the window.

The engines began to hum, and the plane taxied slowly toward the runway. The terminal lights disappeared in the distance.

A sudden jolt pulled her out of her trance… a patch of turbulence. The flight attendant walked by once more, but no one spoke to her.

She closed her eyes for a moment…

If she called now… if she said she needed me now… would I get off the plane? No, Beth. She needs you now, even without calling. And I’m here… she’s there. Shit…

The landing in Zurich felt harder than expected. The plane bounced slightly on the runway, and Beth had to press herself firmly against the seatback to avoid jolting forward.

Outside, the morning sun gleamed on the wet runway. Slowly, the gray clouds drifted away, and the sun claimed more and more of the sky.

She rose as one of the last passengers, pulled her bag from the overhead compartment, and followed a narrow stream of lingering travelers toward the exit.

But instead of the usual passport-control chaos, she was steered aside after a few steps. A man in a dark suit, wearing a discreet earpiece, addressed her.

“This way, Ms. Mead.”

Beth nodded, saying nothing. Her heart began to beat faster.

Why am I getting this? Why a private exit, as if I’m someone special… when last night I was screaming at the woman I love. While she… is alone… pregnant… scared… helpless…

The private entrance was quiet, almost cold. The walls were white, the floor so clean it almost reflected. At the end, a black van waited, its engine already running. She stepped inside and slid the door shut behind her.

The leather seats were cold beneath her hands. She stared out at the glossy droplets clinging to the windows as the van glided smoothly past the bustle of the terminal hall.

I don’t deserve this. I don’t even deserve… her forgiveness. Never. Who just leaves? Who abandons her like that? I… Beth Mead… Maybe she was right. I am selfish.

Flashes of Viv filled her mind. Her eyes red from crying, her hand protectively over her belly. The image tightened around her throat.

Viv was literally protecting her child… from me… How do you do that to her, Beth? You scared her so much that she felt the need to shield him… from me… his mom .

She turned her head and blinked hard.

Not now, Beth. Focus. Just don’t think about Viv. Not yet.

The landscape slowly shifted from airport to city, then to green hills. And then, after one last turn, tall fences appeared with the familiar emblem. Three lions.

Recognition stirred in her chest. She saw the glass entrance, the sleek white building with the large sign: Lionesses Training Facility – Zurich.

Before she had even stepped out, a few familiar faces appeared. Chloe was the first, rushing forward with a wide smile. Shortly after, Ella and Alessia joined.

“Beth, there you are at last!” Chloe called out enthusiastically.

She wrapped Beth in a tight hug, and Beth closed her eyes for a brief moment.

“Good to see you, Chlo,” Beth murmured.

“Come inside, your room’s already ready. We missed you,” Chloe said softly.

Ella stuck out her tongue teasingly. “Well, some of us did. The rest enjoyed the quiet.”

Alessia quickly nudged her arm. “Speak for yourself, Tooney.”

Beth smiled faintly but felt the sharp contrast cut through her. Here were her friends, happy to see her, while back in England, someone might just be waking up with tears on her pillow…

Inside, the smell of fresh coffee and detergent filled the air. Her footsteps echoed lightly on the tiled floor. Chloe led the way, chattering about the schedule for the coming days.

They stopped at a door down the hall. “Here, this one’s for you. Take a moment to settle in. The first meeting’s at 2 p.m.”

Beth set her bag on the bed and looked around. The room was tidy and simple—a white sheet over the bed, a small desk, and a window overlooking the training field.

She could still hear Chloe and Alessia talking softly down the hall, but their voices faded as the door clicked shut behind them. Silence crept back in, the kind she had tried so hard to escape.

Viv…

She sat on the bed, leaned back, and rubbed her face with both hands. Soon she would train, laugh, act like everything was fine. But inside, it was chaos.

Her eyes drifted to her rolling suitcase and the bag that had been brought up here. She picked it up and placed it next to her on the bed.

She folded her sportswear carefully and set it in an open closet. Her football boots were lined up on the floor, almost ritualistically, as if organizing her things could somehow straighten out the chaos in her mind.

Zipping open the small bag, she found her phone charger, a few loose hairbands… and at the very bottom, folded into a hoodie, the ultrasound picture of their baby, carefully removed from the shattered glass frame, a small cut along one edge.

The black-and-white image was the one Viv always looked at with such love from the sofa, back when the frame was still intact. Beth stared at it for a long moment, her fingers resting on the thin paper.

I shouldn’t… not now. That’s not why I’m here. Focus, Beth. Your training starts soon. Come on.

She folded the little photo back, a little too hastily, as if afraid its edges would burn her skin, and tucked it deep into her suitcase.

She decided to change. The tight shirt was swapped for a loose purple training top, black shorts underneath. She pulled her hair into a ponytail and sprayed some hairspray. Barefoot, she stepped out onto the balcony.

A fresh mountain breeze flowed in. The scent of wet pines lingered in the air. The low sun cast long shadows over the training field below.

She sank into one of the chairs on the balcony, pulled her knees up, and wrapped her arms around them. For a moment, she did nothing—no phone, no music—just looking.

The thought of Viv was still there, a constant shadow. She saw her in the kitchen, that oversized sweater, her hand on her belly. She heard her voice again, angry and yet so vulnerable. But the more she breathed in the mountain air, the more that image faded.

Maybe this is good. Maybe I really need this. No fights, no tense talks about bottles, scans, births… Just me. Just football. Nothing else.

She rested her head against the back of the chair and closed her eyes. The warmth of the sun slid over her face. For the first time in days, she felt a kind of space in her chest.

And yet… far in the background, a voice kept whispering that she had left someone behind who might need her the most right now.

She opened her eyes again and looked toward the horizon, where the mountains cut sharply against the blue sky.

Just a little longer, Beth. Just a little time to pause everything. No Viv… No baby… Just this.

Chapter Text

The first thing Viv felt when she woke was the old, empty stretch of bed beside her.

No Beth… no warmth…

She slowly turned her head and saw Lotte, already dressed, sitting on the edge of a chair by the window. Her gaze was fixed on her phone, but she looked up when Viv stirred.

“You’re awake.”

Viv nodded sleepily and stretched, her hands instinctively sliding to her belly, where the little one seemed to be doing his own morning stretches.

“Mmm… yeah. What time is it?”

Her voice was hoarse, heavy with a night spent more awake than asleep.

“Half past eight. I didn’t want to wake you… but… um… have you seen it yet?”

Viv frowned. “Seen what?”

Lotte hesitated, as if debating whether to say it at all. She lifted her phone a little higher, the screen glowing.

“The press conference… from yesterday… Beth’s.”

A sharp pang shot through Viv’s chest, and without answering she held out her hand. Lotte passed her the phone, and as she pressed play on the video.

Viv could feel her heartbeat quickening.

On the screen sat Beth. Beside Sarina. Viv saw it instantly—that look, that awkward, pasted-on smile that only she would recognize as nothing but a façade.

She barely even registered the first few answers. But then it came…

“Beth, may I also ask you about Vivianne? There are rumors that…”

“She knew I was coming here. We talked about it, and it was fine. We give each other our own goals and space…”

Viv felt the warmth drain from her face. A lie. Plain as day.

She slammed the video to a pause. “She’s lying. Straight into the camera. Into my face! Into theirs! Like I was happily waving from the doorway when she dragged her suitcase out!”

“Viv… I just think…”

“Think what? That she’s protecting me? Keeping it tidy for the outside world? Protecting her image? She left me, Lot. I was standing in the living room crying, and she—she chooses to tell the whole of England that I support her. That I’m… what? Proud of her!?”

Viv let out a heavy sigh. “Lotte, this isn’t about the media. This is about us. About the fact that she’s gone. And everyone else believing I’m fine with it. Fine with her giving me a break.”

Viv let herself sink back into the pillows. She pressed play again, forcing herself to watch the training clips that followed in the report.

Beth, laughing with Chloe… crisp touches on the ball… every pass razor-sharp.

Viv’s stomach twisted so hard it made her sit up, breath quick and shallow. She hurled the phone onto the bed and pushed herself upright.

“You know what the worst part is? I get it. I get why she does it. She thinks she’s protecting us. But all she’s really doing is making it easier for herself to be gone.”

Lotte stayed quiet, worry etched across her face.

Viv snatched the phone back and replayed the training footage.

There was Beth again—laughing, sharp, flawless in every drill.

“Look at her, Lot. That’s Beth when she’s angry. Always. That’s when she plays her best. You know what that means? It means she’s angry at herself. Good. She should be. She deserves it.”

Lotte half-leaned forward, as if to stop her, but paused when she saw Viv’s expression soften.

“But why is it that she can give everything to a team when she’s angry… yet throw me away when I need her?”

She dropped her head into her hands, the tension in her shoulders so tight it was almost painful. The words pounded inside her skull until they finally broke free.

Her fists clenched, she threw herself back into the pillows, her whole body trembling. And then it came—a raw, guttural scream that cut off so suddenly it was as if she’d strangled her own breath.

“I hate this feeling, Lot. I hate that I already miss her. I hate that I’m angry. And I hate that I… that some part of me still wants her to walk through that door right now.”

Come on. Stay angry, Viv. Stay angry at her. Because if you stop, all that’s left is the hole she carved into you. But God, Beth… I want you back so badly. I just don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive you. How am I supposed to believe that me—and him—will ever be your priority again?

Viv exhaled hard, her chest shuddering. “I’m stuck, Lot. I can’t… I can’t think straight anymore.”

Lotte slid closer instantly, wrapping her arms around her.

“Come here. Just let it out. You don’t have to be strong right now.”

Viv leaned into her, hot tears soaking into Lotte’s shoulder. Her belly pressed heavily between them, but Lotte only adjusted, giving her space.

“Do you want something warm? Tea, maybe? Just a little distraction?”

Viv pulled herself out of Lotte’s embrace and sat back against the headboard, clutching her own phone like a lifeline.

“Distraction doesn’t work. Not when she’s out there… smiling. Like nothing’s wrong.”

Lotte let out a quiet sigh. “You can lose yourself in this too, Viv. It’s only going to eat you alive.”

“Maybe that’s what I want,” Viv snapped back, sharper than she meant.

She hit play again. The same clips rolled across the screen—Beth on the training pitch, crisp in every move, unshakable focus in her eyes.

Viv pinched the screen, zooming in on that familiar crease between her brows.

She always plays better when she’s angry… so maybe I just have to make her angrier.

Her thumb hovered, quick and restless, over the keyboard in WhatsApp.

“Okay… something that stings. Something she can’t shake off,” she muttered under her breath.

She typed:

'Enjoy selling your soul for the cameras. You’ve got your audience now, don’t you?'

Viv stared at the words, her pulse hammering in her throat. For a second she saw Beth’s face, imagined her reading it… imagined her reaction, the way it would drive her. Maybe even make her ruthless on the pitch tonight.

“Wait…” she whispered, her thumb frozen over the send button. “No. I won’t give her that. SHE. NEEDS. TO. FAIL!”

She deleted the message, let the phone drop from her hand—only to snatch it back again a heartbeat later. Her thumbs moved fast, desperate.

'You pretend you respect me, but all you’re doing is putting on a show for England.'

The words hung there, unfinished. Wrong. Nothing she typed felt sharp enough, or true enough, or aching enough.

Lotte caught the shimmer of fresh tears streaking down Viv’s face.

“Viv…”

Viv scrubbed at her cheeks with the sleeve of her hoodie, her voice flat. “What?”

“I can hear you. I’ve been hearing you for the last five minutes. You can turn your back all you want, but I know. You’re crying.”

“I’m not crying.”

Lotte’s smile was small, almost sad. “You’re as bad at lying as she is.”

Viv pulled in a long breath, her chest rising heavy. “She’s just trying to win hearts. Sitting there on camera, selling this picture of being the perfect girlfriend. And it makes me sick, Lotte. Sick, because I know people actually believe her.”

Lotte turned, firm but gentle, and slid the phone right out of Viv’s hands.

“Hey!”

“You don’t need to watch this right now, Viv. And your baby doesn’t need to feel it either.”

Viv’s eyes dropped to her belly, and suddenly her breathing felt heavier, pressed down by the truth in Lotte’s words.

“It’s just… it’s just not fair. I’m stuck here, Lot. And she’s out there—free. Free to play, free to lie… free not to be here.”

Lotte slipped an arm around her shoulders. “Come on. Let’s go outside for a bit. Just breathe. Just get away from it for a while.”

“I don’t want to.”

“You don’t have to want to. You just have to stand up. One foot in front of the other. That’s all.”

Reluctantly, Viv let herself be pulled upright. Lotte grabbed her coat and eased it around her shoulders. Together, they stepped out onto the balcony. The sharp bite of the cool air brushed Viv’s skin. She closed her eyes for a moment.

“Feel that, Viv? Quiet. That’s for you. For the baby. Everything else can wait.”

Viv leaned her head against Lotte’s shoulder, her voice barely there. “Maybe it can wait… but I don’t know if I can.”

-

In Zwitserland, Beth's phone lay next to her water bottle. She stared at it like it might come alive and start buzzing on its own.

She picked it up. Nothing. No messages. No missed calls. No Viv.

Come on, Viv… just one word. A curse, even. Anything.

She opened WhatsApp, scrolling back through their thread. The last message was hers, three days ago.

'I love you. Take it easy. No dishes, no lifting. I’ll do it when I’m home. X.'

The blue tick was there. And that was all.

Silence ever since everything had fallen apart.

Alessia brushed past and tapped her on the shoulder. “You okay? You look like you’re about to sit an exam.”

Beth forced a faint smile. “Yeah… just. Match stuff.”

Alessia shrugged and walked on. The moment Beth was alone again, the ache in her chest pressed harder, sharper.

She’s seen it. All of it. It had to be. The press conference. Yesterday’s training. I know her. She’s at home, furious, probably wearing that look that says: you think you’re clever, but I see you.

Beth bit her lip. “Why aren’t you saying anything? Why leave me to sit with this alone?”

She remembered how it had always been. Before every match, whether Beth played for Arsenal or for England: always a message.

But now… nothing… emptiness… nearly forty-eight hours without a word.

Anger started creeping up slowly.

Okay, Viv. Fine. If you won’t speak, I’ll use that. I’ll carry this silence onto the field.

She pressed her phone a little too hard against the bench and stood. Walking onto the pitch, she caught Sarina’s gaze.

“All good, Beth?”

Beth nodded shortly. “Perfect. Let’s start.”

On the field, the crisp air slipped into her lungs. She struck the ball with just a touch more force than necessary, heard Chloe laughing at her intensity—but Beth didn’t laugh back.

All she could think about… one person… Viv…

You won’t say anything, Viv? Fine. Then I’ll show it. I’ll play as if I’m playing against you. Maybe then… maybe you’ll feel it.

-

Viv had moved to the couch downstairs, a blanket draped over her legs. Her belly pressed heavily against her, every movement feeling slow and deliberate.

The TV was still off, but the dark screen reflected her own tense expression back at her.

Lotte sat down beside her, a glass of water in hand.

“You don’t have to watch this, Viv. Really. We could put on a movie instead.”

Viv shook her head. “It’s like I want to watch… but I also don’t. It’s… ugh.”

She let her head fall back against the couch. Her eyes wandered briefly to her belly, hidden beneath the blanket.

If I watch and she plays badly, maybe I’ll feel a tiny bit of relief that his mama could still fix some of the chaos she caused. But that won’t happen. And if she plays well… then I’ll just be furious at her again. Either way, I lose.

Lotte leaned slightly toward her. “Okay, but one thing. If you decide to watch, promise me you won’t throw yourself at the TV if she does something you don’t like. And yeah, I know you can’t literally do that, but you get me.”

Viv looked at her, a flicker of irritation in her eyes. “What, you think I’m going to smash the screen?”

“Yeah, that… but also, Viv… you’re carrying a child. You both need to stay calm. You can’t keep spiking your heart rate like this. It’s not just your body anymore.”

Viv’s jaw tensed. “As if I don't know that. I'm not stupid!”

“Then behave accordingly. If she makes a mistake, you yell at me, not at the TV. And if she does something right, you can be angry… but not so much that you lose yourself. Clear?”

Viv rolled her eyes, but finally nodded. “Yeah… clear.”

Lotte gave a short smile, staying close, as if ready to intervene at any moment.

“Okay. Let’s turn it on now. And I’ll stay here with you.”

The screen came to life. The roar of the stadium filled the room. Viv’s eyes immediately found her.

Beth… in full kit… smiling during the players’ entrance.

How can you look like that, Beth? How can you act like everything’s fine?

Her hands gripped the blanket tightly. “She’s looking… like I don’t exist. Like she’s forgotten everything.”

“Or… she’s acting. Maybe it’s the only way she can keep from falling apart.”

Viv’s breathing quickened. “That’s no excuse. If she can play that well for her team when she’s angry, why… why did she leave me behind, Lot?”

She sprang to her feet, the blanket slipping off her shoulders.

“Fuck, okay, you know what... Go ahead and watch your country. I can’t do this.”

She stormed toward the bedroom. “Viv… wait…”

“Leave me alone.”

The guest room door slammed shut. Lotte let out a deep sigh, right as the first whistle blew in Zurich.

-

A faint shiver ran through Beth’s muscles, like always at the sound of that first whistle.

Only… this time there was something else under that tension. Something she had to mask… even now.

She’s watching anyway. Of course she’s watching. And if she’s not, she’ll know later. Everything I do here… it lands with her. Somehow. She’s Viv… I know her.

The opening minutes were intense. France pressed immediately. Bodies collided, studs scraped the grass, voices echoed across the pitch.

It was the kind of match Beth usually hated. But now it felt… fitting. The intensity, the fanaticism. She needed it to channel that anger.

Viv’s voice was there, that faint Scottish lilt, looping endlessly in her mind.

“You need to drive your shoulders in, Beth. Don’t back off.”

She followed the advice as if Viv was standing right beside her. Every touch of the ball carried a mix of adrenaline and something far darker.

Midway through the first half, the chance came. Chloe slid the ball diagonally; Beth leapt just ahead of her opponent, and with a sharp tap of her foot, she sent it low into the corner.

The stadium erupted. Teammates swarmed her, arms around her. She smiled, even laughed—but it felt like a mask stretched too tight.

I’ve done it again… Thirty-two cameras caught this. And Viv… she sees me smiling now. As if this is where I belong. As if I’m happy here. Partly true, but it’s never real happiness.

In her mind, another Viv voice rang out, this time sharp, accusatory.

“See? You don’t need me at all. You can score just fine without me.”

The match grew harsher. Beth collided, shoved, shouted commands to her teammates. Sometimes she kicked the ball harder than necessary, as if she could pound the frustration right out of her body.

Sarina shouted something from the sideline, but Beth only heard the pounding in her ears.

In the second half, the chance came again. Ella sent the ball running, Beth controlled it with a tap, cut past the last defender, and fired it hard into the net.

It wasn’t even pretty… Not refined… Pure power.

Two goals… Perfect. Exactly what Viv shouldn’t see. I was supposed to fail, so I could show her she mattered more than this. And I… I fail even at failing.

When the final whistle blew and England had won 2-0, she tugged her shirt over her face, pretending to wipe sweat. In reality, it was to hide that she wasn’t entirely happy.

Actually… not happy at all.

She felt tears sting, but bit the inside of her cheek until it hurt. She wouldn’t break here. Not for the cameras. Not for France.

Sarina stepped over. “Two beautiful goals, Beth.”

Beth shrugged. “Yeah… they were good.”

This isn’t a victory. This is proof. Proof that I can walk away, leave Viv behind, and still be good. And that hurts in a way no defeat ever did.

She drew a deep breath, but the weight in her chest remained. She just wanted to be alone. Away from everyone. Away from herself. But she was right in the middle of it…

-

Lotte turned off the TV at home and decided Viv had had enough alone time. Gently, she rested her hand on the door handle, and as she opened it, Viv immediately stared back at her.

“Well?”

Lotte blinked, surprised. “Well…?”

“The match. How was she?”

Lotte let out a soft sigh. She knew honesty would sting, but lying felt wrong too.

“She was… amazing, Viv. Two goals. Worked so hard.”

Viv rolled her eyes and leaned back, arms crossed over her belly.

“Of course… of course she was good! Now the whole world’s carrying her on their hands again. Everyone posting clips, comments, praise, interviews… and I just have to watch it all go by.”

“You don’t have to see it all, Viv. You can put your phone away. No triggers. Just… a break.”

Viv laughed briefly. “Triggers? Lotte, don’t you get it? I hear her. Constantly! I see her walking, laughing, acting like nothing’s wrong. Doesn’t matter if I see her on a screen, she’s in my head. And it’s not my Beth I see. It’s…”

She paused, searching for the words.

“It’s that other Beth. The cheerful, sharp, fierce Beth who gives everything for that shirt, while she just… leaves me.”

She slapped the blanket flatly. “Alone… just leave me alone. ALONE!!”

Lotte rested her hand on Viv’s knee. “You don’t have to feel all of this like this. It drains you. For you. For the baby.”

“Do you think I don’t know that? Do you think I don’t feel it, every single day something is being pulled out of me? I just… I just hoped she would fail. That she would have to come back. That at any moment the door here would open and… my Beth would walk in. Not that scary…”

“But you know… that Beth on the field isn’t always who she is at home.”

Viv shook her head. “Maybe not. But right now, I don’t care. Because this is all I see. Every second. And I hate it. And I miss her. At the same time.”

She rubbed her belly, as if trying to soothe the baby.

“I thought… I thought I knew her. But maybe I don’t know her at all.”

The silence that followed felt heavy. Lotte swallowed deeply.

“Do you want me to just stay here? No match talk, no clips, no social media?”

Viv looked at her, eyes red. “Yes, stay. But it doesn’t matter what you take away or what you do. She’s still in my head, Lot. And I just can’t get her out.”

-

As Viv closed her eyes, hundreds of kilometers away, Beth’s eyes snapped open. Flashbulbs fired in every direction. Her name echoed from every corner.

“Beth, fantastic game!”

“Two goals, Beth, congratulations!”

“Player of the match, Beth. How does it feel?”

Everyone laughed, patted her on the shoulder. At the first camera pointing toward the locker room, she spoke about team effort, the hard fight, how happy she was with the result.

The words came automatically, as if she was reading from a script.

The second camera asked about France, about how important it was that they won this match. She gave polite, professional answers.

But all she could think about was Viv…

Viv is watching this. Viv is hearing me talk as if she doesn’t exist for me.

Then came camera number three. A man with an overly wide smile and too little filter.

“Beth, people have noticed… no sign of Viv here. How’s she doing?”

Her chest tightened all at once. She looked at him, unwavering.

“Next question.”

No explanation. No joke to soften it. Just move on.

She walked on, away from the chaos, away from the cameras. The locker room felt safe for a moment. Teammates laughed, sang songs, but Beth retreated into a corner.

She grabbed her phone, the screen glowing. There it was: Viv.

Her finger hovered over the keyboard.

She started typing: “Hey, I played pretty well today.”

Deleted.

New message: “Two goals. We won. 2-0.”

Deleted.

Another attempt: “It was tough, but I kept thinking of you.”

Deleted.

She sighed deeply, feeling the knot in her stomach tighten. Every letter felt wrong. Every sentence sounded like a half-hearted attempt to bridge the gap between them.

After maybe the hundredth try, she wrote:

"If you still care: I played okay, nothing special. Means nothing when there’s chaos between us."

She stared at the message, her thumb hovering over the send button. Part of her wanted to erase it, forget it, just like all the previous attempts.

But there was the other part, the part that hoped Viv would read it, that she would respond, that there would be some contact.

She hit send.

And then she just sat there, phone in hand, her gaze fixed on the screen… waiting…

-

Viv read it three times. Her breathing quickened, and she jumped up at the sight of Beth’s name on her screen…

Beth had messaged her. No media headline… real Beth.

"Oh, so this… is the first thing you send in almost two days?! This, Beth! Seriously!?"

She felt the warmth rise to her cheeks and gripped her phone tighter.

"Not 'how are you,' not 'I miss you,' not 'I love you,' not 'sorry, can we talk'… but this? THIS! Seriously?"

She let out a short, sharp laugh.

"Not special? She scores twice, gets player of the match, and that… this!?"

Lotte had just walked back into the room. "What’s wrong?"

"What’s wrong? She’s lying! Right in my face! And do you know what’s worse? She finally sends something, and it’s this. This worthless little… nothing!"

"What does it say then?"

Viv threw her phone at Lotte, who caught it just in time.

"Read it. And then tell me if I’m crazy, or if it’s her."

Lotte read the message hesitantly. "Yeah… um… she’s definitely downplaying it."

That was the last straw. Viv felt her whole body tense up.

“Smaller? She stood there like the fucking star of the night! Everyone in England saw it! And now she acts like she was invisible?! Or… wait… did you lie? Did you tell me she played well when she didn’t?”

“Viv, I was just being honest…”

“Then it’s her! She’s lying. Of course. Beth and her half-truths. If she’s really that broken, that down, that… nothing special… THEN. SHE. WOULD. HAVE. COME. HOME! And you know what’s worse? That she apparently has the energy to score goals, do interviews, but not to talk decently to me!”

She stood up, walked to the wall, hands on her hips as if trying to hold herself together. But the rage still found a way out…

She spun around, grabbed her phone, and hurled it to the floor with full force.

“See! That’s how it feels. Broken. Shattered. That’s exactly what she does!”

She flopped back onto the bed, pulled the pillow over her head, and screamed. Her shoulders shook with tears.

“She’s there. And she stays there. As if I… as if we… are worth nothing.”

Lotte carefully sat on the edge of the bed. “Viv, this isn’t good for you. For the baby.”

“You know what else isn’t good? Pretending everything’s fine while your partner hundreds of kilometers away celebrates goals with a fake smile and sends you a stupid message.”

She turned around, her back to Lotte, and pulled the blankets over herself.

“Just leave me. Go see if you can comfort someone else. Beth is clearly focused on her team, not me.”

She closed her eyes, but the images of Beth on the field, laughing with teammates, kept replaying in her mind like a torment.

-

In a very different torment—but no less painful—Beth was suffering too. Not in bed, not alone, but she felt utterly isolated in the corner of the locker room.

On her screen it was clear: “Seen – 21:34”

But no reply… no three dots… no Viv is typing…

An empty feeling gnawed at her stomach. At first, she thought maybe Viv was busy, or the battery had died. But deep down, she knew it wasn’t that.

Viv had seen it. Viv had decided not to respond.

What the hell did I even send? Beth, what the hell did you do? Out of everything you could have typed… this is what you chose to send…

She opened her own message and read it again.

“If it still matters: I played okay… nothing special. Doesn’t mean anything when there’s chaos between us.”

She closed her eyes for a moment.

What was I thinking? Of course I lied… Of course I played well. And now I even sound cold. As if she doesn’t matter to me. Such a stupid way to put it. Beth, your first message after a fight… you idiot.

The feeling slowly crawled up her throat. She wanted to type, wanted to send a sorry, wanted to explain that she was just trying to protect herself—but she knew exactly what Viv would think.

Too late.

-

Viv was still lying in bed, blanket pulled up to her chin. Lotte hadn’t given up and sat beside her, a bottle of water in her hand.

“I just ignored her. Didn’t say anything at all.”

“Maybe that was best for now, Viv.”

“No. It feels like I’m giving her all the power. Like she can say whatever she wants and I just stay silent.”

She turned to face Lotte directly.

“But you know what? If I respond, I’ll explode. And if I explode… yeah, I can’t put that on you.”

Lotte shrugged. “Viv, we agreed… if you get angry at Beth, you can let it out here. With me. I can handle it.”

Viv felt something inside her crack. “You really mean that?”

“Yeah. Yell, swear, throw a pillow if you need to. Better than bottling it all up.”

Viv took a deep breath, her eyes glistening with moisture.

“You know… sometimes it feels like you’re the only one still choosing me.”

Lotte placed her hand gently on Viv’s arm. “Right now, maybe. But that doesn’t mean it’ll always be like that.”

Viv nodded slowly. “Thank you… just… for being here.”

“Always, Viv. Always.”

-

Beth knew she had to type. She had to say something in the direction of an apology, lie a little because she didn’t know how else to do it.

But her thumb hovered above the keyboard. It felt pointless. Viv wouldn’t believe it anyway.

Three weeks already...

Three weeks of half-truths, three weeks of swallowing everything. And I can feel her slipping further away. I have to do something. Something to get her back. But what?