The Bomb Interview #2
“Alicia Puertas has never used our closeness or my position on the medical staff to gain any kind of personal advantage, preferential treatment, or alteration of performance reports. She has never influenced my professional judgment in the slightest, and she has never, under any circumstances, jeopardized the team dynamic or the club’s sporting discipline.
The sole responsibility for having crossed that ethical line lies with me.
I was the one who made the conscious decision to let my feelings get the better of me, and I was the one who failed to establish the necessary ethical boundaries as soon as I began to feel something much deeper for her. ”
“That’s a lie, and you know it perfectly well!
” Alicia interjects immediately, slamming her fist on the table so hard that the pens rattle, her voice breaking and brimming with overwhelming emotion.
“You’re not going to take the fall for this all by yourself, Clara—I won’t let you.
It wasn’t just you. We’re both in this—up to our necks.
We’ve both felt it from day one, and we both want this badly. ”
I turn to look at her for the first time since we entered this meeting bunker. Alicia is staring at me with anger, panic, and a vulnerability that makes me tremble inside. Good God. I love her so much that my chest physically aches.
“Yes, it was my fault,” I reply with infinite tenderness, holding her gaze. “As a member of the medical and professional staff, I was the one with the contractual and moral obligation to maintain distance and professionalism at all times. Not you.”
She shakes her head repeatedly, her eyes misted with tears of rage.
“I don’t give a damn about your contract, Clara. Under no circumstances am I going to let you shoulder the consequences of this all by yourself. I’m not going to sit here with my arms crossed watching you try to sacrifice yourself like a martyr to save my ass. Forget it.”
A small smile—somewhat sad and nostalgic—forms on my lips. It’s incredible. Even in the midst of this bloodbath, furious as hell and with her back against the wall, she’s still doing everything she can to shield me from the blow.
I fix my gaze on the sporting director again, resting my hands on the table.
“In women’s soccer—and really, in any job where we excel—we women continue to live under constant public scrutiny and moral judgment,” I say slowly, weighing and savoring every word so it sinks in deep.
“We can be flawless for years, excellent at our jobs, but all it takes is a single slip-up in our private lives for everything else to stop mattering one bit. Alicia Puertas is the best forward this club has seen in many, many years. You know this perfectly well; the press knows it all too well; and the entire English league knows it. And I sincerely hope that the fact that she’s in love with me won’t be the excuse you use to deny her the chance to prove it on the field. ”
The word “love” hangs heavy in the air of the room—weighty, resounding, and imposing.
Alicia opens her mouth just a fraction, completely shocked by my confession.
I turn to look at her, and for one wonderful second, I swear everything else disappears: the boardroom, Julián’s poker face, the tension in the air, and the fear of the future.
Only she and I exist. Her eyes fixed on mine, her breath held, and that pure emotion that begins to chip away, piece by piece, at all that armor she always carries with her.
I give her the most tender smile, trying to convey peace through my gaze. What I’m about to do isn’t a desperate sacrifice. It’s a free, conscious, deliberate choice. My choice.
“So, to spare the organization further trouble,” I finally continue, turning my gaze back to the sporting director, “I am submitting my resignation with immediate effect.”
The silence that settles over the room afterward is absolute and brutal. Hugo jerks his head up, wide-eyed and with his mouth agape. Julián frowns deeply, visibly surprised that I’ve preempted his plans, and Alicia… Alicia remains completely frozen in her chair, pale as wax.
“No…” she blurts out immediately in a thread of a voice, broken by panic. “Don’t do something so crazy, Clara. Please, I’m begging you, don’t do it.”
My chest tightens painfully as I hear that note of desperation in her voice. But the decision has already been made, and I have no intention of backing down; I’m absolutely certain this is the right thing for both of us.
“It’s best for everyone, Alicia,” I murmur softly, trying to calm the tension.
“Best for whom, if I may ask?” she snaps at me, suddenly sitting up straight in her chair and practically leaning over the table.
“Because I can assure you it’s certainly not best for me.
How the hell do you expect me to just sit idly by knowing you quit your job because of me?
Do you really think I’ll be able to score a single goal knowing the price you’ve paid? ”
“Alicia, please calm down for a second…” I try to rein her in.
“I don’t feel like calming down! You have no right to decide all this without consulting me,” she insists vehemently, clenching her fists so tightly against the wooden tabletop that her knuckles turn white.
“I’m not going to stay at this club while you give up your career because of my fucking troubled past. I’m not some little girl you have to save from monsters, Clara. I’m your partner, for fuck’s sake.”
I stare intently into her eyes, feeling my heart clench at the raw truth in her words.
“I’m not doing this because of you, my love. You’re wrong.”
“Of course you are!” she retorts, her eyes glistening with held-back tears.