'Are you sure everything's okay, Bub?' Mom asks for the fifth time. The warm glow of the laptop screen casts long shadows across my darkening bedroom.

'Yeah, I told you I'm just tired. Work's been crazy lately with the promotion and all,' I force a laugh, trying to brush off her worries.

Dad chimes in, his voice gentle. 'Remember to take care of yourself, Bell. Work is important but not more than your health.'

I nod, fighting the sudden lump in my throat. I hate having to lie to them like this.

'I know, I know,' I assure them, plastering on a smile that I pray reaches my eyes.

'We just miss you so much. We could take care of you here. Help you out. You know I was just passing by your company office branch that's by the pier the other day. Are you sure they won't let you transfer? Christie, the new dean of students, her daughter now works full time remote. Things have changed these days, you know. I don't get why you have to live in London, when you are from the best city in the world!' Mom rattles off her thoughts in her usual rapid-fire style.

I love my parents, so very much, but it always bugged me how they still treat me like a child, who doesn't know what's good for her. And also, some of the things she said are blatantly untrue. Both of them are so busy with their lives that they hardly had time to take care of me when I was growing up. I highly doubt they would be able to do it now, still active as ever.

Not that I resent them for it or something. I'm glad that they are thriving, truly.

Still, something Mom said nags at me.

What am I doing in London after all?

I thought I knew. But, really, do I?

I'm hardly that same person I was when I came here to chase away the ghosts of John. New York doesn't really hold the same painful associations anymore. I am pretty settled in my career, and I know I can easily either get another job in anywhere else or move to another team in another country. And while I love Steph and Matt, our friendship isn't dependent on proximity.

Then why am I here?

'Mom, can you not? I just got promoted, it would be tricky to change things so soon.' Even as I say the words, they ring hollow in my ears.

Dad, ever the voice of reason, interjects. 'As long as you're happy. That's all that matters to us.'

Happy.

I'm happy and I have everything I need.

I repeated that sentence to myself so many times that I almost started to believe it.

I stifle a sigh.

'I know, I know,' I grumble again. 'I gotta go now, but I'll text you later, okay?'

We say our goodbyes, the screen fades to black, and with a shaky breath, I close my laptop.

Out of habit, I take out my phone but there are no messages waiting.

Since we came back, Sonny and I exchanged a few brief texts, both tiptoeing around mentioning what happened. He seemed cold. I'm sure he's busy, with the season about to end in two more games, but I don't think that's the reason why he's keeping his distance.

Maybe he's finally done with me. For good.

And maybe that's all for the best.

I don't blame him. We came so close to getting caught that it must have given him a big reality check.

I'm just not worth all the trouble. I'm an awkward, frigid mess, never able to make up my mind, a ticking time bomb threatening to blow up his carefully crafted public image. I can hardly blame him. Even I wouldn't want to date me.

Tears well up in my eyes, hot and stinging.

Ughh, not again. I can't do this anymore. I've reached my limit. The weight of my secrets is now too heavy to shoulder.

I need to tell someone. I need my friends.

***

'So, let me get this straight,' Steph says, frowning in concentration trying to make sense of my story. 'The guy you've been mooning over for ages, who plays for your favorite team, who is also rich, handsome, and a genuinely nice person — this guy likes you, you like him, and you're two are dating?'

The pub is quiet for a Thursday night, with soft chatter and the occasional clink of glasses. A warm glow from the overhead pendant light casts a cozy light over our corner booth, worn leather seats creaking as we shift. The air is filled with the scent of hops and grilled food, mingling with the woody aroma of aged whiskey barrels lining the walls.

'Yes, but...' I try to counter, only to be cut off.

'Jesus, Buddha, Yahweh, Allah, Supreme Power of this universe, thank you. Thank you, for answering my prayers,' she closes her eyes, hands gathered in supplication. 'I can finally die in peace knowing our Bells isn't alone. Finally, this day has come.'

I roll my eyes.

Dramatic, much?

'The bloke must have lost his marbles. It makes no sense. Why would he be into you?' Matt says, looking bewildered and a bit grossed out, like he just caught his sibling in a PDA moment. 'If you ask me you need to grab this chance by the collar and just do the deed. Get married before he comes to his senses,' he takes a long swig of his beer.

'I agree!' Steph chimes in, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

Ughh, what's wrong with these two?

I take a deep breath, steeling myself. 'Are you guys even listening? I said we are dating in secret. He can't be seen with me.'

Matt's brow furrows. 'Secret dating? But, that's just for the tabloids now, no? Surely, it'll all sort itself out eventually.'

'I don't know about that. It's just... his career, his image. All this might just be a very temporary thing for him,' I look downwards, absentmindedly tracing patterns in the condensation on my glass. The ice cubes tinkle softly as they melt.

'What? Are you fucking kidding me? Are you a joke to him or something? This guy's a fucking player,' Matt bangs his fists on the table, doing a complete one-eighty from his stance before. He's like the overprotective brother I never had.

'It's not like that. He's not like that,' I exclaim, a bit surprised by my own vehemence.

What's wrong with me? Why am I defending him?

'Quiet, you,' Steph shoves a finger on Matt's mouth. 'Bells, what is it that he actually said to you? He said it's all no strings attached?' her eyes intent on me.

'No, not really,' I respond, fumbling for the right words to describe my situation with Sonny. 'I don't know, obviously he's always wary of us being caught. I feel like I'm just causing him problems.'

'He said that?'

'No, he didn't. He said,' my cheeks heat up, 'he said he likes being with me.'

'Does he ignore you? Make you feel less than?'

'No...he's super curious about my job, always...cheering me on,' I mutter almost inaudibly.

I look up to see Steph pressing her lips together, a smile dancing in her eyes. The soft pub light catches the chocolate flecks in her irises.

'And when you were moping around a few weeks ago, that was about this guy?' she asks, placing her hands gently on top of mine.

'Oh! I noticed that too! She was walking around as lively as a dead fish!' Matt interjects a tad too enthusiastically.

'I said quiet,' Steph shushes him again.

Matt slumps back, grumbling. 'Can't say a word...'

I nod wordlessly at Steph.

'I should have questioned you then, but I just reckoned you're missing your mum and dad,' she sighs. 'So, what happened?'

I shift my gaze to the ceiling, uncomfortable to go into all the nitty gritty details. 'We sort of had a fight. Because...' I try to recall the exact reason, 'because, I felt like he's keeping his distance from me.'

'How so?'

'I don't know. He would only text me about surface-level stuff.' Even as I say it, I realize how flimsy it sounds. Was that really all it was?

Steph raises an eyebrow. 'And, did you ever message him about deeper topics?'

I shake my head. I guess I had never considered that.

'And how did you two make up?' Steph probes gently.

I recount how Sonny reached out, how eager he seemed.

Steph nods thoughtfully. 'You know, Bells, I'm always on your side. But sometimes you're too quick to judge, seeing things more negatively than they are. Remember, when we first met?'

I smile, recalling my initial impression of Steph as standoffish and unfriendly.

Steph grins. 'Remember how you thought I hated you?'

'When really, you were just trying to get to know me,' I acknowledge, feeling a rush of affection for her. I just took her no-bullshit personality at face value, putting up a wall around me. It had taken time for our bond to deepen, but now our friendship is something unshakeable, rock-solid.

'And you, my love, are not the easiest person to get close to,' Steph teases gently.

She's right, isn't she? I was so focused on me and my feelings, that I didn't stop to think that I haven't exactly given Sonny a lot to work with. I never initiated a conversation, never asked to see him first, never went out of my way to express how I feel about him.

Since when was I so selfish and self-centered?

'Still,' I gulp, 'this situation is a little different. There are too many other things in the way,' I argue weakly.

Like the fact that I lied to him about not being a Spurs fan. But somehow, I can't stomach to admit that even in front of my friends yet.

Steph shakes her head firmly. 'If you don't want to be with him because you don't want to, that's completely fine. But be honest with yourself and actually tell him how you feel. And then actually listen to what he has to say. Relationships are a two-way street. Right now, you're assuming what he wants, what he needs, what's for the best. But you won't know whether that's true unless you talk to him in person first.'

Matt chimes in. 'Talking it out in person does have its benefits.' He glances at his phone with a small smile, and I wonder if things have gone well with Samantha.

'Give the guy a chance, okay?' Steph puts a hand over my shoulder.

I nod slowly, not knowing what to say, my mind roiled in more confusion than ever.

***

Cocooning myself in my blanket like a burrito, I bask in the afternoon sunlight streaming through the bedroom window like a purring cat.

While I might look cozy and content, my heart is anything but that.

I just got done watching the Spurs match, their final home game. Another loss, which means no European football next season for the first time in a decade. A bitter pill for the team to swallow, especially for players over thirty, racing against time's relentless march, when every chance at glory becomes more precious, more urgent.

Sonny must be hurting really bad.

A sigh escapes me.

I guess I will be seeing him today. He messaged a few days ago, to keep my schedule free.

I can't lie. On one hand, I'm am a tiny bit happy to go back to our familiar old routine of these weekend dates. But on the other hand, I'm scared to face him.

Like what Steph and Matt said, I know the right thing to do is to talk through everything. But...I don't know what to say.

Can I look into those warm brown eyes and say goodbye?

Somewhere along the way, between all the little moments and small gestures, I fell for him. I fell for him hard. More than I had anticipated.

And maybe he fell for me a little too.

But that's precisely why I need to end this, isn't it? Before it goes any further, before the house of cards we've built comes crashing down. He's risked so much already. If his carefully constructed world were to crumble because of me... I couldn't live with myself. Especially when I know the reason that he liked me in the first place is a lie.

The pain is so real, like an aching bruise on my heart that throbs with each beat. I want to...I want to scream out loud, sing a sad song, something to vent out all these bubbling emotions.

But there's no sad song for times like this, is there? You know, for times when you conned a millionaire footballer into dating you, but now it's all falling apart because he swore to never date publicly. I wonder why, it's a super relatable scenario.

I laugh, despite myself, the absurdity of my situation hitting me all at once.

Suddenly, the doorbell rings, piercing the pin-drop silence in the apartment. I nearly jump out of my skin mid-laugh, my heart leaping into my throat.

Who could it be?

Is Sonny here this early?

The match barely ended a few hours ago. Usually, he comes by much later when its already dark outside.

My heart starts thumping at the thought of seeing him. I'm not ready for this, not even close. I thought I had a little more time. A few more hours to get myself together, rehearse what I would say.

In a mad scramble, I attempt to extricate myself from my blanket, only to promptly trip over the trailing edge and face-plant onto the carpet. Graceful as ever, Bella.

Muttering curses, I stumble to my feet and dash to my dresser. In a whirlwind of motion that would put any quick-change artist to shame, I manage to throw on a bra, backwards at first, naturally, and make an attempt to finger brush my hair into submission, before racing to the door.

Deep breath, Bella. Inhale, exhale.

With trembling fingers, I turn the knob and swing the door open, plastering what I hope is a casual smile on my face.

Huh?

It's not Sonny standing there.

My smile fades to what I can only imagine is puzzlement because I have no idea who this person is. She seems to be middle aged, with a professional-looking bob that screams 'I mean business,' and a black blazer so sharp you could probably cut diamonds with its lapels.

'Hi. Bella?' she says, her tone cheery but clipped and efficient. 'I believe you know Sonny?'

I blink, my mind struggling to process her words.

What in the actual fuck is going on?

***

I tug at my dress, a whisper of pale blush organza that seems to float like a cloud. The strapless bodice, with its built-in corset, hugs me just right. The flowy skirt cascades down with a side slit coming up to my lower thigh.

As I smooth my hands over the fabric, I marvel at the stylist's handiwork. She was just as competent as she appeared at first sight, practically transforming me from potato-mode to red-carpet-ready in a mere couple of hours.

Sonny must have planned a really fancy date for today, I think, as I bite my lips nervously.

Is it because he's about to leave London in a week once the season is over?

Maybe he wants to do something nice for me as a farewell gift. Something to remember before we part for the summer...or forever.

Ughh, I don't know what to think.

I imagine whatever event he prepared cost him a small fortune, but I can't help but feel a little frustrated. How am I supposed to have a serious conversation with him at a place like that? Not to mention, the stress of having to watch out for paparazzi is already making me palpitate.

I check my watch anxiously. Half past eight.

Peering out the window, I try to gauge the location. Funny, this doesn't look like the kind of neighborhood that boasts Michelin-starred restaurants. The streets are quieter, more residential.

Where are we?

Fumbling around my phone's maps app confirms my suspicions - we're near Enfield, close to the Tottenham training campus.

Weird place for a date. Especially a fancy one.

The gears in my head are still running in full motion, without really reaching any conclusion, when the car glides to a stop.

The driveway before me is bathed in a warm, inviting glow, dimmed lights lining a path that leads to a brick wall adorned with a sleek, minimalist metal emblem of a cockerel standing atop a football – the Spurs badge. The evening sky is a canvas of deep blues and grays, the last whisper of daylight clinging stubbornly to the horizon.

My driver helps me out of the car, and I do my best to exit as gracefully as possible despite my racing heart.

A lush manicured garden filled with vibrant flowers and meticulously trimmed hedges is intersected by a gravel path. A modern building of wood and glass sits in the middle, its green rooftops blending seamlessly with the gardens. Light dances off the windows, casting a tranquil glow that almost – almost – soothes the butterflies in my stomach.

I follow the path, taking small steps, careful not to lose balance on my strappy high heels, still unsure of what to expect ahead.

'You're here!'

Sonny's voice cuts through my trance, and I halt abruptly to face him.

My breath catches in my throat. He looks devastatingly handsome in an all-black suit that looks like it was made just for him. To be fair, it probably was – no doubt he shops haute couture.

For a moment, it seems that I've forgotten how to speak.

'Hi,' I finally manage, eloquent as ever.

He gives me his signature big smile, that never fails to make me warm and fuzzy.

'Come with me,' he says, grabbing my hand, and I follow him in a daze.

We step inside through a glass door, footsteps muffled by the plush carpet in the pattern of a cloudy night sky beneath my feet. Golden accent pieces gleam softly against the dark walls, forming celestial patterns – constellations that I don't recognize.

As we walk further into the building, the sounds of laughter and music swell around us. Sonny's hand moves from my wrist to the small of my back, guiding me forward gently.

No but seriously, what in the world is going on?

I want to ask Sonny, but can't quite muster the nerves.

We approach a set of imposing double doors, their surfaces etched with swirling patterns. Pausing for an infinitesimally tiny moment, Sonny swings them open.

On the other side, the room is alive with energy, a sea of people in elegant attire, champagne glasses clinking like wind chimes in a summer breeze. A live band in the corner plays jazzy beats.

Sonny navigates through the crowd with ease, never once removing his hand from my back. Eyes turn to us as we pass, and Sonny greets them with polite smiles and nods.

Slowly we make our way towards a cluster of people near the bar, and my heart nearly stops as I recognize the faces. They're Spurs players, men I've watched and cheered for countless times on screen.

We come to a stop in front of them, and they turn to face us. I hold my breath, waiting for... I'm not sure what.

Sonny's voice rings out clear and strong, 'Hey, guys. This is my girlfriend, Bella,' his hand does the tiniest squeeze on my waist. 'Bella, these are my teammates,' he beams, turning his face towards me.

A bolt of lightning could eviscerate everything around me and I couldn't be more shocked than I am right now.

I must have misheard.

But no, Sonny's still looking at me expectantly, his teammates are smiling and extending hands in greeting, and I'm standing here, thunderstruck. Years and years of professional training kick in as I shake hands and exchange niceties on autopilot, my mind racing to catch up with this new reality.

I was wrong. I was wrong about everything.

Every time it got hard, I hid behind my wall. Every time I was scared, I chose to end things. But not Sonny. He faced it all head on. Time and time again, he showed that he wants to be with me. And I stupidly chose to ignore all that.

And now he's made this difficult decision – the decision to sacrifice so much that he worked for, all to give us a real chance. So, now I need to follow his lead and not make his sacrifice worthless.

I won't back down. I won't run away. Whatever happens now, we're in this together.

This is the start of something new, something true.