Germany
Quarter-Final — England v Sweden
Elle was in a hotel room in Munich when everything went wrong.
Work trip.
Campaign shoot.
A promise she'd made Leah she'd keep.
The plan had been simple.
Quarter-final on television.
Then fly to Switzerland for the semi-final if England got through.
Simple.
Except England never did simple.
By twenty-five minutes England were 2-0 down.
The hotel room was silent except for the television commentary.
Elle sat forward on the edge of the bed.
Heart racing.
Because she knew Leah.
Knew exactly what was happening inside her head.
The criticism after the group stage.
The pressure.
The expectations.
And now—
this.
England looked finished.
The defending champions.
Gone.
Except they weren't.
Because England had become something strange during this tournament.
Impossible to kill.
By the time Lucy Bronze scored, Elle was standing.
By the time Michelle Agyemang equalised, she was screaming at a hotel television in Germany.
Then came extra time.
Then came the moment.
Leah went down.
Hard.
Immediately reaching for her ankle.
Elle's stomach dropped.
No.
No.
Not again.
The cameras stayed on her.
The pain.
The frustration.
The captain trying desperately to continue.
Then eventually the substitution board went up.
Leah limped off.
England's captain gone.
Ankle strapped immediately on the bench.
And suddenly Elle couldn't breathe properly.
Because football was one thing.
Leah hurt was another.
The penalty shootout became secondary.
The result barely mattered.
Just tell me she's okay.
Then somehow—
somehow—
England survived.
The most ridiculous shootout imaginable.
Chaos.
Misses.
Saves.
Heart attacks for an entire nation.
And England won.
The second the final penalty went in, Elle wasn't watching celebrations.
She was reaching for her phone.
Leah answered immediately.
Still in full kit.
Hair soaked.
Eyes exhausted.
An ice pack strapped around her ankle.
"Hi."
God.
The relief.
"You're injured."
Leah sighed.
"Hello to you too."
"Leah."
A pause.
Then the smallest smile.
"I think it's okay."
You think.
Not exactly reassuring.
But she was smiling.
Which mattered.
Because if Leah could smile after all that—
maybe things weren't catastrophic.
Maybe.
—
The next three days felt endless.
Treatment.
Recovery.
Media speculation.
Questions everywhere.
Would the captain play?
Would England lose their leader?
Would the tournament end here?
Leah hated every second of it.
Not because of the pain.
Because of the uncertainty.
The waiting.
The possibility of watching instead of playing.
Then Monday morning came.
Training.
And Leah trained.
Not perfectly.
Not comfortably.
But she trained.
And when she called Elle afterward, she was grinning.
Actually grinning.
"I'm playing."
The certainty in her voice said everything.
And suddenly—
Elle booked the flight.