𝙎𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙮 𝙏𝙬𝙤. 𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘎𝘢𝘮𝘦

                                    

                                          
Caitlin's POV
As I stood at the penalty spot, I took a deep breath, the weight of the moment settling into my bones. The roar of the crowd faded away as I focused on the ball in front of me, the grass beneath my boots, the slight pressure of the world on my shoulders. France just missed their first shot. Now it was my turn to step up for Australia. 
I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, my pulse quickening as I prepared to take the shot. The pressure was immense—not just for my team, for my country—but for myself. And for Elena. I closed my eyes for a second, imagining her beside me, holding my hand. I could almost feel the comforting squeeze, the way she calms me when everything feels like it's spinning too fast.
"You've got this," I imagined her whispering, her voice steady and soft, like it always is when I need it the most. She believes in me. I want to make her proud. I need to make her proud.
The referee's whistle cut through the air, sharp and sudden. My eyes snapped open, and I pushed everything else out of my mind—the noise, the nerves, the pressure. It was just me and the ball now. I took my steps, my foot connecting with the ball, and it was in the back of the net before I even realized it. 
Relief flooded through me as I heard the crowd erupt, my teammates cheering. I did it. We were still in this. My eyes scanned the stands for a second, knowing Elena wasn't not there, but I could feel her with me all the same. I sent up a silent thank you to whatever part of the universe brought her into my life.
Back in the changing room, the celebrations were wild. We'd done it—we were the first Australian team, men or women, to make it to the semi-finals of any major tournament. I'd never seen the girls this happy, this united. Sam's grin was wider than I'd ever seen it, Steph was laughing and wiping away a tear, and the rest of the team was in pure, unfiltered joy. It was everything we've worked for.
But as the celebrations continued, I couldn't help but keep an eye on my phone, waiting for updates from the England match. When Sam suddenly announced with excitement, "We're playing England in the semis," my heart dropped. 
England. Elena.
I knew this was a possibility. We talked about it before the tournament even started. But it always felt so far off, like a hypothetical we didn't really believe would come true. Now itbwae real. One of us was going to win, and one of us was going to lose. The thought sits heavy in my chest, a strange mix of pride and dread twisting in my stomach.
As the team celebrated around me, I felt my phone buzz in my hand. It was Elena. Just a small message:
𝙀𝙡𝙨 💗
𝘾𝙤𝙣𝙜𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙨 𝙤𝙣 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙚𝙢𝙞𝙨. 𝙒𝙚 𝙗𝙤𝙩𝙝 𝙠𝙣𝙚𝙬 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙚𝙣...
I slipped away quietly, finding a corner in the stadium where it was quiet, away from the noise and celebration. Sitting down on a bench, I pressed the call button, and after a few rings, her face filled the screen. She waw still in her kit, a slight sheen of sweat on her forehead, and I could tell she had just been through a battle of her own.
"Hey," she says softly, her voice barely above a whisper. There's a small smile on her face, but it's strained—like she's feeling just as conflicted as I am.
"Hey," I reply, my voice equally quiet. For a moment, neither of us says anything, just looking at each other, letting the reality of the situation sink in.
"We're really doing this, huh?" Elena says, breaking the silence. There's a hint of a laugh in her voice, but it doesn't reach her eyes.
"Yeah," I say, my heart feeling heavy. "I guess we are."
We talked about this moment before the World Cup, back when it was just a distant possibility. We said all the right things—how we'd support each other no matter what, how proud we'd be no matter the outcome. But now, sitting here in the moment, it feels... off. It feels different. It feels real.
"One of us is going to win," I say softly. "And one of us is going to lose."
Elena nods, her eyes meeting mine through the screen. "Yeah. But no matter what happens, we promised we wouldn't let it change anything between us."
"I know," I say, biting my lip. "But it's hard not to think about it, you know? I want to win this. But I also don't want to be the reason you don't."
She sighs, running a hand through her hair. "I feel the same way. But this is what we do, right? We play, we compete. And we love each other no matter what."
I nod, feeling the weight of her words. She's right. This is what we do. This is who we are. We've always known that football was going to be a huge part of our lives, a part that sometimes puts us on opposite sides. But we've also always known that our love is stronger than any game, any competition.
"I love you," I say quietly, my voice thick with emotion.
"I love you too," she replies, her voice soft but steady. "And no matter what happens, that's not going to change."
We sit in silence for a few moments, just letting the reality of it all settle in. It's not easy, but as long as we have each other, I know we'll be okay.
"Good luck," Elena finally says, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "You're going to need it."
I laugh, shaking my head. "You're the one who's going to need luck. You've got to go up against me, remember?"
She grins, and for a moment, it feels like everything is back to normal, like we're just two people in love, teasing each other like we always do. 
"May the best team win," she says, and I can see the determination in her eyes.
"May the best team win," I repeat, though my heart is already torn between wanting to win and not wanting to see her lose.
We say our goodbyes, promising to talk again soon, and as the call ends, I sit there for a moment, letting it all sink in. No matter what happens in the semi-final, I know we'll find a way through it. Together.