Pretending To Be Normal
Central London — October 2024
Leah genuinely believed she could have one normal Saturday.
That was her first mistake.
Her second mistake was agreeing to go shopping with Elle in central London on a weekend.
"You're famous," Elle reminded her while they walked through Covent Garden beneath cold autumn sunlight.
"I'm football famous," Leah corrected immediately. "That's niche."
A teenage girl walking past physically gasped.
"Oh my God. Leah Williamson."
Leah closed her eyes briefly.
Right.
Forgotten detail.
Elle looked deeply entertained already.
The girl approached nervously holding her phone.
"Sorry—sorry—I don't want to bother you but could I maybe get a photo?"
Leah smiled instantly anyway because unfortunately she was incapable of being rude.
"Of course."
Two minutes later another person recognised her.
Then another.
Then suddenly Leah couldn't move more than twenty feet without someone shouting her name across the street.
Elle walked beside her trying not to laugh while Leah slowly lost the will to live.
"You said niche."
"I was optimistic."
A group of Arsenal fans passed them next.
One clocked Leah immediately.
Then immediately clocked Elle too.
And unfortunately—
clocked them together.
The guy's eyes widened slightly.
"Ohhhhh."
Leah already knew that tone.
Dangerous.
Very dangerous.
"You two are actually together?" he blurted excitedly.
Leah physically malfunctioned.
Not because the question upset her.
Because somehow she still never expected people to ask it directly.
Beside her, Elle looked suspiciously calm.
The fan continued enthusiastically—
"Mate, the TikTok edits are unbelievable by the way."
Leah stared into the middle distance.
"Thank you?"
The guy looked toward Elle next.
"You're the American!"
Leah nearly choked.
The American.
As though Elle was a mysterious exchange student causing emotional devastation across North London.
Elle burst out laughing immediately.
"That's me apparently."
The fan asked for another photo while Leah stood beside him looking deeply resigned to her fate.
Then right before leaving he smiled knowingly at Leah.
"You look really happy by the way."
And suddenly the joke disappeared slightly.
Because that part kept happening lately.
People noticing.
Not just the relationship.
Her.
The way she smiled more. The way she carried herself differently.
Like surviving the ACL and heartbreak and recovery had somehow softened her instead of hardening her.
"Thank you," Leah said quietly.
The fan left looking thrilled.
Leah immediately grabbed Elle's hand and started walking faster down the street.
"No more public outings."
Elle laughed beside her.
"You're handling this terribly."
"I'm being hunted for sport."
"You signed three autographs."
"That's enough exposure for one lifetime."
God.
Elle loved her like this.
Not England captain Leah.
Not media-trained Leah.
Just this version.
Slightly dramatic. Slightly socially awkward. Desperately trying to act normal while being one of the most recognisable women in English football.
"You know what's funny?" Elle murmured as they crossed the street.
"What?"
"You always seem shocked people love you."
Leah looked genuinely confused.
"That feels narcissistic."
"No," Elle smiled softly. "It feels sad."
The words landed quietly between them.
Because maybe she was right.
Leah still moved through the world like she expected affection to disappear eventually.
Fans.
Football.
Love.
All temporary.
Then a tiny little girl in an Arsenal scarf spotted her from outside a café window.
And immediately started screaming.
"LEAH!"
Leah physically jumped.
The child bolted outside dragging what looked like her horrified father behind her.
"You're my favourite player ever," she announced breathlessly.
Leah melted instantly.
Every time.
"What's your name?" Leah asked softly.
"Evie."
"Well, Evie," Leah smiled, crouching slightly to her level, "that's a very good scarf."
The girl looked moments away from fainting.
Meanwhile Elle stood nearby watching the interaction with the softest expression imaginable.
Because this—
this was the version of Leah most people didn't fully understand.
Not the footballer.
The person.
Gentle. Patient. Quietly kind even when exhausted.
Leah signed the little girl's shirt before standing again.
Then Evie looked directly at Elle.
"And are you her girlfriend?"
Silence.
The father looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole.
Leah blinked once.
Then twice.
And beside her, Elle absolutely lost it laughing.
The little girl looked confused. "Did I say something bad?"
"No," Leah answered quickly, cheeks pink now. "Not bad."
Then quieter—
"Yes. She is."
God.
The smile on Elle's face after that nearly ruined her emotionally in the middle of Covent Garden.
The father apologised approximately fourteen times before dragging his delighted daughter away.
And the second they disappeared around the corner, Elle looked at Leah carefully.
"You said it very confidently."
Leah shoved both hands into her coat pockets immediately.
"She was seven. I couldn't emotionally abandon her."
"Sure."
Leah looked away toward the street trying unsuccessfully to hide her smile.
Hopeless.
Absolutely hopeless.
Then softly—
"You are though."
Elle's expression softened instantly.
"What?"
"My girlfriend."
The traffic noise around them faded slightly after that.
Because somehow after all this time, Leah still sounded amazed by it.
Like love remained the most surprising thing that had ever happened to her.