Departure Gate
Heathrow Airport — April 2023
Leah hated airports now.
Before Elle, airports meant football.
Away matches. Tournaments. England camps. Noise-cancelling headphones and protein bars and trying to sleep sitting upright beside teammates complaining dramatically about turbulence.
Simple.
Functional.
Now airports meant missing someone before she'd even left them.
Which was deeply irritating.
Rain streaked against the huge glass windows of Heathrow Terminal 3 while boarding announcements echoed overhead. Families rushed past dragging suitcases. Somewhere nearby a child cried dramatically over a dropped croissant.
And in the middle of all of it, Leah Williamson sat alone near Gate 42 smiling at her phone like an absolute idiot.
Her tea had gone cold twenty minutes ago.
She hadn't noticed.
Because Elle kept texting her.
Leah smiled immediately.
Hopeless.
Absolutely hopeless.
She snapped a quick selfie — baseball cap low, grey hoodie, tired eyes from barely sleeping.
Caption:
Unfortunately yes.
Three dots appeared instantly.
Then:
God you look fit in airports.
Leah physically dropped her head back against the chair laughing softly to herself.
A woman across from her glanced over suspiciously.
Leah ignored it completely.
Her phone buzzed again.
Leah snorted quietly.
Shut up.
Another message instantly:
You've smiled at your phone more in two months than the previous five years combined.
Unfortunately true.
And honestly?
Leah didn't even care anymore.
That was the frightening part.
Because somewhere between New York rooftops and late-night FaceTimes and Elle secretly attending Arsenal matches, Leah had stopped trying to pretend this wasn't huge.
It was huge.
Elle was huge.
Leah glanced down at the boarding pass in her hand.
Miami.
Five days.
No football. No rehab cameras. No questions about her knee or captaincy or recovery timelines.
Just sunshine.
And her girlfriend.
The word still hit strangely every time she thought it.
Girlfriend.
Real.
Certain.
Leah smiled softly to herself before opening Instagram absentmindedly.
Mistake.
Immediately she was assaulted by edits.
Slow-motion clips from the Arsenal match last weekend. Emotional music. Ridiculous captions.
she looks at love like it's something sacred.
Leah groaned quietly into her hand.
"This app needs deleting."
But then she noticed the top comment.
Leah physically stared at the screen.
Then laughed helplessly under her breath because honestly?
That was the problem with Elle.
She somehow made Leah feel both emotionally safe and completely insane at the exact same time.
Her phone buzzed again.
Soon.
A pause.
Then:
Miss you already.
The ache arrived instantly.
Sharp enough that Leah actually looked down for a second.
God.
The distance never got easier.
If anything, it got worse every single time they saw each other because now Leah knew exactly what she was missing when Elle wasn't there.
Her laugh.
The warmth of her hands.
The way she looked at Leah like she was a person before she was a footballer.
"Flight BA207 to Miami now boarding."
Leah stood slowly, grabbing her bag.
And suddenly excitement flooded through her so quickly it almost felt embarrassing.
Because in less than ten hours she'd see Elle again.
Touch her again.
Kiss her again.
Leah smiled to herself while joining the boarding queue.
Then quietly, before turning her phone onto airplane mode, she sent one final message.