The Apartment
Leah had been in New York for almost two weeks before she realised something.
She hadn't thought about football once that morning.
No tactics.
No Arsenal group chat.
No transfer rumours.
Nothing.
Instead...
She'd spent twenty minutes arguing with Elle about whether pancakes counted as breakfast or dessert.
"They're literally cake."
"They're breakfast."
"That's marketing."
"It's America."
"Exactly my point."
Elle laughed as she flipped another pancake onto Leah's plate.
"You've become insufferable."
"I've become cultured."
"You've become unemployed."
Leah looked horrified.
"I am on annual leave."
"You've been watching daytime television."
"I watched one renovation programme."
"You watched four."
Leah took a bite of her pancake.
"...they found hidden mould."
Elle shook her head, smiling to herself.
God.
She'd never seen Leah like this.
Slower.
Lighter.
Still limping occasionally.
Still icing her ankle every evening.
But happier.
The apartment had quietly become theirs.
Leah's trainers permanently sat beside the front door.
An Arsenal hoodie hung over the back of the sofa.
Her tea somehow occupied an entire cupboard.
One morning Christian walked in unannounced, took one look around the apartment and laughed.
"What?"
Elle looked up.
"You've moved in."
Leah blinked.
"No, I haven't."
Christian pointed.
"Those are your running shoes."
"They're temporarily here."
"The piano playlist playing through the speakers?"
Leah looked away.
"...possibly mine."
"The Yorkshire Tea?"
Silence.
Christian folded his arms.
"The football on the television?"
Leah frowned.
"That's normal."
"It wasn't here before."
Caught.
Completely caught.
Elle was trying very hard not to laugh.
Christian grinned.
"I'm just saying..."
He looked around the apartment again.
"...it doesn't really feel like your apartment anymore."
Elle looked across at Leah.
Then quietly smiled.
"It feels like ours."
The room fell silent.
Not awkward.
Just...
Unexpected.
Because neither of them had actually said it before.
Ours.
Leah looked around the apartment.
The flowers she'd bought last week.
Her books on the coffee table.
Their trainers by the door.
Two coffee mugs in the sink.
Laundry drying over chairs.
Completely ordinary.
Wonderfully ordinary.
Then she smiled.
"It does."
Christian looked between them.
"Oh, you're gone."
"What?"
"You've both got that look."
"What look?"
"The one where you're accidentally planning the rest of your lives."
Leah laughed.
"We're absolutely not."
Christian simply raised an eyebrow.
"Sure."
After he left, the apartment became quiet again.
Elle curled up on the sofa with a book while Leah sat carefully at the piano in the corner of the living room.
Her ankle still protested every time she pressed the pedals.
But not enough to stop her.
Soft notes drifted through the apartment.
Nothing complicated.
Just something she'd been making up for the last few days.
Elle looked over the top of her book.
"I still can't believe you can do that."
"What?"
"Just..."
She nodded towards the piano.
"...sit down and play."
Leah smiled.
"My grandad originally gave me the love."
"You've never told me that."
"I don't tell you everything."
Elle closed her book.
"No?"
Leah shook her head.
"Some things are just..."
She searched for the word.
"...mine."
Elle understood.
Football had always belonged to everyone else.
Interviews.
Supporters.
Media.
But music...
Music still belonged only to Leah.
She walked over quietly and sat beside her on the piano stool.
The tune stopped.
"What?"
"Keep playing."
"I'm not very good."
Elle looked at her like she'd grown another head.
"You've played at the BBC."
"That was different."
"It was an orchestra."
Leah laughed.
"You're supposed to make me less nervous."
"I think you're brilliant."
The sincerity made Leah's cheeks flush.
She looked back at the keys.
Then started again.
Softer this time.
The apartment filled with music while late afternoon sunlight poured through the windows.
When she finished, neither of them spoke for a moment.
Then Elle quietly rested her head on Leah's shoulder.
"You know..."
"What?"
"I think this is my favourite version of you."
Leah smiled.
"The one who can't run?"
"The one who finally slowed down enough for me to see all the other parts."
Outside, New York rushed past as it always did.
People hurried to meetings.
Yellow taxis sounded their horns.
The city refused to stop.
Inside the apartment...
For the first time in years...
Leah Williamson finally had.