Legally binding - Part 9
☆ Summary: Alexia Putellas didn't plan to become anyone's legal guardian. But a very determined 12-year-old with a forged Barça contract has other ideas - and she's already moved in.
☆ Warnings: Lots of emotional distress, the kid is still angry and sad :( Lots of angst and hurt/comfort.
☆ Word count: 7k
☆ A/n: hehe so... it is here
Legally binding masterlist here
Alexia's mind has long forfeited its post as her safe space.
During her ACL recovery, her thoughts were her worst enemy. Yet, she slowly learned to cultivate self-compassion, patience and respect for everything she was and everything she was not.
Since the kid materialised in her living room almost seven months ago, Alexia's mind had fractured into a proper dichotomy.
Some mornings, she would wake up to find her mind kind and gentle, especially when Cariño was around, her laugh somehow easing out every tension in Alexia's body. On other days, her thoughts were harsh and mean, making Alexia question every single conviction she once thought was certain.
The Champions League final, as well as the Euros, were slowly approaching.
Next week, the Barcelona squad would fly to Portugal, ready to fight on the pitch against Arsenal for the title of Champions of Europe. Alexia was prepared to fight tooth and nail for that title, just as she was determined to give her all to become European champions with her country the following week.
Alexia considered it a no-brainer that the kid would remain at home in Barcelona with her mom, Eli. Bringing Cariño into the absolute chaos of international matches and competitions was simply too early. It would be overwhelming for the little girl: first trip, first plane flight, first hotel stay, first time meeting her teammates, both for Barcelona and Spain.
The kid wasn't prepared for that yet, and if Alexia was truly honest, perhaps she wasn't either. She wasn't ready for the world to know about her new role as a mother. Of course, most journalists and fans were aware of the adoption, having learned about it months ago when Cariño ran away and mobilised the whole Barcelona community. Still, the unnecessary exposure felt too premature, too much for Alexia to handle during such difficult competitions.
Motherhood was something entirely new to her. Alexia wasn't used to balancing a child while she was training or playing. She never had to worry about securing another person's passport besides her own, and now she would have to navigate the very tiring bureaucracy of obtaining a passport for Y/n for the post-Euros vacation in Mexico that Alexia was planning.
It was just a lot to think about; the mental overload was as intense as playing a full 90-minute game. Alexia had important matches to focus on, she had a mother and a sister who needed her, and now... a daughter.
After the last conversation they had - back when Alexia was still pulling away, believing her presence was harmful to the kid - their dynamic had been surprisingly smooth. But maybe too smooth.
Miranda, the psychologist, had cautioned Alexia to brace for emotional distress the moment Alexia told her she was considering not taking the kid to Portugal and Switzerland.
Alexia had foolishly envisioned emotional distress as just a few tears. Maybe an aggressive slam of a bedroom door. She even prepared for broken glass, recalling that the girl had shattered a cup weeks ago because she was angry and hurt.
But somehow, what happened next was ten times worse for everyone involved.
It all started when Alexia spread her comically large calendar on Eli's lap. She pointed out with manicured nails the days she wouldn't be in Barcelona.
The plan was: She would stay two days in Portugal for the Champions League final, followed by a week's stay in Barcelona just to play the last match of the domestic league. After that, her focus would be entirely on the Euros. Spain would travel one week before the championship started, and Alexia would be back less than a day after the championship was over.
There was only so much that Alexia could do about dates, deadlines and plane tickets, but she organised what she could to minimise unnecessary days away.
Eli nodded at Alexia's words. For the entire period, Eli would be solely taking care of the kid. But she didn't mind - she loved the kid and, understanding as always, she was already taking mental notes about school pick-ups, doctor's appointments and the small routines that usually included Alexia.
It wouldn't be too hard. They had done this before; the kid was living with Eli while Alexia was still searching for their perfect house. But normally, Alexia always came back home at the end of the day.
This time, she wouldn't for a long time. A month and a week, to be exact.
The kid was drawing attentively on the coffee table, her knees on the soft, yellow rug. Her hand shaped a small figure, herself, maybe, wearing a Barcelona shirt, but the back of her shirt read ALEXIA 11 instead of her own name.
She was humming quietly to herself a Disney song that Alexia didn't recognise. Alba had made it her life goal to make sure the kid had watched every single Disney and Pixar movie ever made.
The kid looked content, lost in her own little world, so Alexia thought she would be able to discuss the details with her mom without the kid paying attention to their conversation. But the moment Alexia mentioned plane tickets, the crayon halted its movement on the paper, and the kid looked up.
She caught sight of the calendar and saw the dates circled in blue pen.
"What's that?" she asked, her voice curious, but underlined with suspicion, as if she already knew what those dates meant and just wanted confirmation.
Alexia took a deep breath, looked at her mom once, and knelt down beside the younger girl, trying to keep her voice gentle, breaking down the news slowly. "That's my schedule for the next few weeks, Cariño. I have some important matches coming up."
"Where?"
"Portugal first, and then Switzerland."
The kid had been quiet for a moment, her small hands completely still on the crayon. Alexia just waited. And waited.
The kid's voice came out so low that Alexia barely heard it. "What, cariño?" she gently prompted.
"When are you leaving?"
"I leave in a few days for Portugal. Then- "
"How long?" The kid's question cut off Alexia's explanation, making Alexia realise this conversation was not going as she had initially planned.
Alexia exchanged a glance with her mother. "Two days for Portugal. Then I come back for a week, and then I'll be in Switzerland for about a month."
The change in the kid's face happened terrifyingly fast. Alexia didn't know how, but the crayon in her hand snapped in two pieces as her fist clenched; her eyes became stormy, her forehead creased in clear distress.
The kid stood up. Every muscle in her body was painfully rigid, and Alexia instantly yearned to soothe the pain away. "No."
"Cariño-"
"No!" Her voice came louder this time, a mix of desperation with finality. It was as if she believed that delivering the words with enough force, Alexia would stay. "You can't go!"
"I have to, nena. It's my job, it's-"
"I don't care!" The kid stomped her foot on the floor, her face flushing red. "I want to go with you! I want to come!"
Alexia felt her heart sink. She knew this conversation would be difficult, but she hadn't expected this level of reaction. "You can't come, cari. You're not ready for-"
"I am ready! I am," Her voice cracked." I'll be good, I promise! I'll be so good, I won't cry on the plane, an-and I won't cause any trouble, and I'll be quiet and won't bother anyone."
"It's not about being good or crying or anything like that, bebé," Alexia tried to explain, reaching out for the kid's hand, but she pulled away fast, stepping back as if Alexia's touch would burn her skin.
The back of her thigh hit the coffee table, scattering the layered crayons across the rug. Some of them snapped, others didn't. The kid didn't spare them a glance.
"Then why? Why can't I come?" Her voice was weak, tears pooling in her eyes. "Is it because... you don't want me there?"
"No! God, no, Cari, that's not..."
But the kid wasn't listening anymore. She was somewhere else entirely, somewhere dark and familiar, a place she had inhabited for too long before she had found Alexia as her mami.
For the first time since Alexia had adopted Y/n, the kid threw a full, almost violent fit. A proper one. The kind you would expect from a six-year-old being denied candy, not a twelve-year-old who was usually calm and chill.
Alexia watched, mouth agape, as the kid screamed and cried, all the while yelling - demanding - that she go with Alexia to Portugal and that she was going to spend the entire month of July with her in Switzerland.
Her words tumbled down her mouth through cries, barely coherent, but the sheer desperation behind them was painfully clear. It was as if her survival depended on making those trips with Alexia.
"I have to go! You can't leave me, mami!" She shouted, feet stomping on the floor, looking at both Alexia and Eli with complete urgency. "Everyone leaves, you always leave, and you promised you wouldn't anymore!"
Alexia was paralysed. She didn't know what to do.
She had dealt with Alba throwing fits when they were kids, had soothed her little cousins when they were sad, and had hugged her friends' kids when they lost a stupid game.
But this? The ugly part? The screaming and stomping and complete loss of control? That was for parents to deal with. And she was a parent now, wasn't she? When exactly did that transformation occur? When had this terrified, tiny girl become her responsibility, her daughter, her whole world?
Alexia already knew the answer, of course, but she still didn't know what kind of reaction was required right now.
The kid had gone through fits of anger a month before, breaking things in the house and lashing out at Eli.
Alexia had spoken to Miranda, who had assured her the kid was having some big feelings. She was confused because, at the same time Alexia had adopted her and accepted her as her own, she wasn't living with Alexia full-time yet.
The kid was still processing Alexia's initial rejection, how Alexia had originally said she didn't want her.
Miranda had explained that once the kid began to feel genuinely secure with Alexia and the whole Putellas family, she would likely regress, starting to act like a much younger child. It was a normal part of trauma recovery, both an attempt to reclaim the pieces of childhood lost in the orphanage and a way to process everything that had happened since.
"She's testing whether you're here to stay, Alecia," Miranda had said, her voice kind. "If this safety she's feeling is real or just temporary. Every child who's been abandoned does this, even the ones that grew up in functional families... they push and push until they're either proven right that everyone leaves, or until they finally believe they're safe."
Alexia hadn't said a thing, so the woman continued.
"It's like when we are in the middle of a successful relationship and start to show our ugly side to our partner... we don't do it consciously. It's a way our mind finds to see if the person is trustworthy, if they'll choose to stay after seeing the ugly. The kid wants to know you will stay."
Alexia had thought she understood it back then. She had been through a lot of pressure and hard times before. She had lost her father, she had been captaining Barcelona for years, had captained Spain from time to time, and came back from a career-threatening injury better than before.
She could handle a twelve-year-old having a tantrum, or... whatever more appropriate word for the current situation, because this wasn't just a tantrum.
Alexia was frozen by the sound of her daughter's distress, especially when she saw it: the kid had started to scratch at her own arm, her short, lilac nails digging into her own skin, eyes full of tears while repeating over and over that she was going to travel with Alexia, that she had to, that she couldn't be left behind (again).
"Y/n, stop it right now," Alexia commanded, her voice coming out more stern than she intended. But her touch was gentle as she caught the kid's hands, holding them carefully on both sides of her body, preventing her from hurting herself even more.
The kid looked up at her with wild eyes, and it was like something flickered inside her - something terrified and completely out of her control. She began fighting Alexia, her hands moving frantically, desperately trying to break free, trying to push Alexia away.
"Let me go! Let me go! I hate you! I hate you!" The words were punctuated by sobs, by gasping breaths, by sounds that didn't seem like they could come from someone so small and young.
Alexia ignored her words. Ignored the plea to be free. All she cared about was keeping the girl safe, safe from herself and safe from the world. Although the latter would be hard.
Eli had been watching the scene unfold from the sofa, her hands clasped over her chest as if trying to brace herself against the scene before her.
Should she step in? Should she let Alexia handle it? This was her daughter now, her responsibility. But watching her daughter struggle, watching the kid spiral, it was agonising not to intervene. She didn't even know how to intervene! Should she hold the kid's legs too? She wasn't a wild animal; she was just a little girl!
The kid fought harder, thrashing in Alexia's grip with surprising strength.
She managed to wrench one hand free somehow, and her nails raked across Alexia's forearm, breaking skin and drawing blood.
That was the line. Eli couldn't stay back any longer.
She stepped in, gathering the kid from behind, wrapping both arms securely around her body while Alexia stumbled back, looking down at the wound on her forearm with shock.
A thin line of red welled up instantly, a small drop of blood sliding down toward her wrist, tracing the head of her ulna.
Alexia looked from the wound to the kid. Hurt flashed across Alexia's face, so deep that she could barely hide it, but then she saw the kid's expression. The absolute devastation there, the pain, and the realisation of what she had done to Ale, as if it was the confirmation of every terrible thing she had ever believed about herself.
Alexia instantly realised the kid was even more hurt, mentally, emotionally, than Alexia was physically.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!!" The kid was sobbing now, fighting against Eli's hold not to escape but to reach Alexia, to try and fix whatever she had done wrong. "I didn't mean to hurt you! Please don't leave me, please, I'm sorry-"
Alexia took a deep breath, her lips pressing together so tightly that the blood circulation to them was cut off. She needed a moment. Desperately.
She turned and went directly to the bathroom to clean her wound, her hands shaking so badly she could barely turn on the tap. Alexia needed just one second to breathe, one second to gather her thoughts, one second to make herself present, one second to let a single tear (or perhaps two) roll down her cheek.
One second to clean her cut before Eli's hardwood floor would become a mess of blood, tears and shattered crayon pieces.
Alexia stood rigid in the bathroom, her hands gripping the porcelain edge of the sink as cold water ran over the scratch on her forearm. The thin line of red dissolved under the stream, a pale pinkish liquid swirling down the drain, but she couldn't stop staring at the now almost-fading mark.
Her hands were shaking, and she couldn't bear to look at her reflection in the mirror, scared of what she would see.
She shouldn't be the one crying. She shouldn't be hiding from her own daughter like a coward, while her mother was the one comforting and calming Y/n down.
From the living room, she could still hear it, muffled now by the walls, but unmistakable. The kid was still crying, still struggling against Eli's hold, her voice raw and breaking with each sob. It cut through Alexia's heart like nothing she had ever felt before. Nothing like Alexia had ever experienced on the pitch.
It wasn't the searing pain from her ACL tear, not the crushing weight of losses, not even the worst moments of her career when she thought she had failed completely.
This was different. This was her daughter. Her daughter.
The pain wasn't Alexia's; it was Y/n's, and it made everything feel worse.
The word daughter still felt foreign in her mouth, heavy with responsibility and fear, and something else she couldn't quite name. Love, maybe. Or perhaps the terrifying realisation that love wasn't always enough, that sometimess, love meant watching someone else's pain and not having the power to fix it."
She pressed a folded piece of toilet paper against the scratch, watching the white fabric turn red, the blood blooming through the fibres because of the capillarity. It didn't hurt, not really. It was just a scratch after all. Physical pain, she understood. Physical pain could be treated; there were recovery protocols for that.
But this? This was uncharted territory, a new map Alexia didn't want to explore, but she would have to, for the well-being of her daughter and their relationship.
Miranda's words echoed in her mind: "She's going to test you, Alexia. She needs to know you won't leave when things get hard."
Alexia had nodded during that appointment and had thought she understood. But understanding something and living it were very different things; Alexia had been stupid to think otherwise.
She could hear the kid's voice changing now, the screams shifting into something sadder.
Alexia closed her eyes, took a deep breath, threw the toilet paper away, and forced herself to walk back out, out of the small, temporary sanctuary she had made in the bathroom.
The scene that greeted Ale made her heart crack open all over again.
Eli was sitting on the floor now, the kid curled up in her lap, arms wrapped firmly around Y/n's torso. The poor kid was still trembling, still fighting weakly. But the anger had drained out of her completely. Now there was just guilt and fear.
"Mami, don't go, please, Ale, please."
Over and over, the kid repeated the phrase like a prayer, like a plea.
Alexia's knees hit the floor before she had even made the conscious decision to move. She was in front of them in an instant, close enough to see the tear-stained face, the red-rimmed eyes and the snot running down the kid's lip, the absolute pain written all over her features, features way too young to hold such pain, such fear of abandonment.
"Cariño," Alexia whispered, and the kid's eyes snapped to hers.
The kid's breath hitched, and her small body went rigid in Eli's arms. Her gaze dropped immediately to Alexia's forearm, to the angry red line she had left there minutes ago.
"I hurt you," the kid whispered, her voice hoarse from screaming and crying. "I hurt you. I'm bad. I'm so bad. I'm sorry, I-I'm sorry, everyone was right, I'm bad and you should- you should leave- "
"Stop," Alexia said firmly, moving closer until she could cradle the girl's face. "Stop, Cari. Look at me, look at mami."
But the kid shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut. "Mami, I don't want you to look at me...i'm sorry, mami, I'm- "
"You're not bad," Alexia interrupted. She wanted the girl to understand once and for all that she was just a little kid. "You're not bad, sweetheart, okay? You are just hurt, and that's different. Do you hear me?"
Alexia waited for the girl to nod, and when she did, Ale continued.
"You are hurt, nena. Sometimes when we are hurt and scared, we hurt other people without meaning to, but that doesn't make us bad." Alexia leaned over, placing a gentle kiss on the girl's forehead. "That doesn't make you bad. Bad people don't feel guilty, bad people don't care about hurting others... and you clearly do, mi amor. Listen to mami. Sí?"
Alexia's words filled the girl's ears, and like magic, her body slowly relaxed. Eli brushed her palm over the girl's arms, soothing her as Alexia kissed the top of her head. That's when Y/n's eyes finally opened, searching Alexia's face, as if analysing whether she was really telling the truth.
"I'm not leaving," Alexia said, and her voice broke, but she didn't try to hide it. She let the kid see her tears, her fear, her own vulnerability. Maybe, like that, she would see how serious she was. "I'm not leaving you. Not now and not ever. You are mine."
"But-but you said I-i can't go-" The words came out between cries, her tears starting all over again.
"I don't think it's a good idea for you to go to Portugal or Switzerland right now," Alexia said carefully, moving even closer, sitting by their side.
"But that doesn't mean I'm leaving you. That means I'm coming back. Every single time, cariño," The brunette continued softly. "I will always come back... Mami just has to work, and sometimes I have to work far away for a few days."
The kid shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. "M-mami, you'll go, and you'll forget me, and you won't come back, and I'll be all al-alone... and- "
There it was. The wound that hadn't healed because how could it? How could a child understand the complexity of what had happened to her since she was a baby? left alone at an orphanage just to be adopted and hear that her mami didn't want her.
Alexia felt like she had been punched in the chest for what felt like the tenth time that day.
She thought by now the kid would be dealing with it better, that she would have understood Alexia's mistake, that this was a turning page in the book of their life. But some mistakes were too hard to overcome. Those words Alexia said a few months ago were the sins she would have to carry for the rest of her life, hoping they wouldn't stay in the kid's mind for too long.
"I made a mistake," Alexia explained, reaching slowly for her, giving the kid time to pull away if she needed to. When small hands didn't push Ale back, she gently placed her palm against the kid's wet cheek.
"The biggest mistake of my life-" The captain continued. "-I was scared and confused, and I didn't understand what I was feeling. But I looked for you. I chose you. And I will choose you every single day for the rest of my life."
"But you're leaving..." the kid sobbed, leaning into Alexia's touch despite herself, like she couldn't help but crave comfort.
"For work," Alexia interrupted gently. "For matches. For a few days, sometimes a few weeks. But this- " she gestured between them, around the room "- this is home. You are home, bebé, and I will always, always come back home... come back to you."
The kid's breathing was still uneven, a few stubborn tears streaming down her face. She allowed herself to lean her back against Eli again. The kid was tired, exhausted really, but her eyes never left Alexia's face, as if Alexia would disappear in the blink of an eye.
"I want to go with you," she whispered gently. "Mami, please?"
"I know, Cari. I know you do." Alexia shifted closer, until she could rest her forehead against the kid's, breathing in the scent of her shampoo, the honey one Eli had bought.
"And you know what? Soon you will. When you're ready... when it won't be so scary and overwhelming. But right now, you need to be here with Yaya in our home." Alexia tried to explain, although she didn't even agree with her words anymore. She wasn't sure she was making the right decision.
"Where you can sleep in your own bed and play with your toys, and go to school... You love school! Here you won't be in hotels with people you don't know and where people don't even speak Spanish."
"I could learn," the kid whispered. "I could learn another language and talk to the people at the hotel."
"I know you could. You're so smart, cariño, smart and brave-" Alexia pulled back just enough to look into the kid's eyes. "But brave and smart doesn't mean you have to do everything at once, sí? Sometimes we need to stay somewhere safe so our mind and our body don't get too scared... can you do that for me?"
There was a moment of silence.
"... and you'll come back?" The question was barely audible, filled with every abandonment, every broken promise and every person who had walked out of the kid's life.
"I will come back," Alexia said, putting every ounce of conviction she possessed into the words. "I promise you, with everything I am, I will come back. I'll call you every single day. We'll video chat before bed. I'll send you pictures of where I am. And the second I can get on a plane home to you, I will."
The kid stared at her for a long moment, and Alexia could see the war happening behind those eyes, the desperate want to believe in Alexia, to allow herself to feel secure and loved.
Finally, in a tired and small voice, she said, "Okay, mami."
It took another hour before the kid calmed down completely, before the occasional hiccupping sob faded into just uneven breathing.
Eli had moved to the sofa, the kid curled in her lap like a little cat. She looked much younger than twelve. Alexia sat on the floor in front of them, one hand resting on the kid's leg, trying to remind her that she was still there.
The kid's hand had found its way to Alexia's unscratched forearm at some point, small fingers tracing the wound with a feather-light touch, careful not to hurt.
"I'm sorry, Ale," she whispered.
"I know you are, Cari. It's okay."
"It's not okay. I hurt you."
"You were scared. Fear makes us do things we don't mean sometimes," Alexia explained gently. "I already told you that, remember, bebé?"
"Were you scared?" The kid's eyes were barely open, voice slurred with sleep. "When I was mad? I didn't mean to be scary."
Alexia considered lying, giving a brave answer that would make her seem strong and in control. But Miranda had been clear: honesty, even when it's uncomfortable, builds trust faster than anything else.
"Yes, but I was scared that you were going to hurt yourself," Alexia admitted quietly. "Actually... mami's scared all the time. I'm scared I'll mess something up... scared I won't know what to do when you need me. Scared I'll let you down, bebé."
The kid's eyes opened a bit wider, focusing on Alexia with surprise. "Really?"
"Really. Being a parent is scary, carioñ. Because I love you so much, and I want to do everything right, but I'm learning too. We're both learning."
The kid was silent, and Alexia could see her brain working and could see her summoning up some courage.
"Sometimes I'm scared I'll cause you too much trouble, and then you won't want me anymore," the kid said, breaking eye contact.
Alexia felt tears prick at her eyes. She shifted, moving to sit beside Eli on the sofa so she could wrap her arm around both of them. "You're not too much, and you'll never be. But that's how relationships are, sometimes it's hard, sometimes it's really hard. But you know what?"
"What?"
"The hard parts don't make me want to leave, okay? They just make me want to stay even closer to you. Because you deserve someone who stays, cariño." Alexia told her tenderly. "You deserve to be loved, and that's what I want to do. I want to love you forever, mija."
The kid gave Alexia a weak smile as she started to fight sleep, her eyes drifting closed by the second until her eyelids met and her breathing evened out.
Alexia thought she had fallen asleep when she heard one more whispered question. "You won't forget about me, right, Ale? Will you think about me while you are travelling and playing? You'll still be mi mami?"
"Of course. Distance doesn't mean gone, cariño. I'll be thinking about you every single day. You're in here- " ale tapped her own chest gently, right over her heart "-and nothing can change that."
"She scratched you," Eli said softly after the kid had finally fallen into a deep sleep, nodding toward Alexia's forearm.
Alexia glanced down at the scratch, already scabbing over. "I know."
"Are you okay, bebé?"
The question hung in the air between them. Alexia knew the question weighed with more than just concern for her scratch. Alexia looked at her mom, saw both worry and understanding in her eyes, and felt something in her chest loosen just slightly.
"I don't know," she admitted. "Mami, I don't know what I'm doing. I thought... ugh, I thought we would both be doing better by now. She's been doing amazing at therapy, and I started therapy too to see if it could help us, but this- "
"This is different," Eli said gently, running her free hand through Alexia's hair as she used to when Alexia was a pouty little girl. "This is parenthood, amor, and parenthood isn't just about handling things. It's about being here... It's about loving someone even when they can't love themselves."
Alexia looked down at the kid, at the small body that had finally relaxed into sleep, fingers still clutching Eli's shirt. Her face was blotchy and swollen from crying, tearS still visible on her cheeks.
"The psychologist said this would happen. That she would regress, that she would test me. But knowing it and living it..."
"They are two very different things," Eli finished. "I know. You think I didn't question myself every single day when you and Alba were growing up? Every tantrum, every tear, every time you pushed me away or told me you hated me?"
She smiled softly at Alexia's surprised expression. "You did, you know? When you were eight and I wouldn't let you play football because you were sick with a fever. You told me you hated me and you wished you had a different mami."
"I don't remember that," Alexia whispered, shame colouring her voice.
"Children don't normally remember the harsh things they told their parents, bebé," Eli said tenderly.
"I remember it like it was yesterday because it broke my heart. But you know what else I remember? The next morning, when you crawled into my bed at five in the morning and told me you were sorry, that you loved me more than football and more than Barcelona." Eli laughed at the memory. "You made me a drawing... I still have it somewhere. It had a broken heart on it."
Alexia was silent as her mother continued.
"You still dragged your sister with you, made her apologise even if the poor girl had nothing to do with it." Eli chuckled. "And then both of you fell asleep with your heads on my chest, and I watched you girls sleep and thought, 'This is it... this is motherhood.'"
Eli reached out with her free hand, cupping Alexia's face the same way Alexia had done to the kid.
"Children test us because they need to know we can weather their storm. Y/n's not doing this to hurt you. I want you to know that, bebé. She's doing this because she needs to know you'll still be here when the storm passes, once things are calm again."
Tears pooled in Alexia's eyes, and she wondered if she was going to die from dehydration.
"What if I mess her up, mami? What if I'm not good enough of a parent? What if she needed someone better, someone who knows what they're doing, someone who doesn't have to leave for weeks at a time for matches- "
"Stop," Eli said firmly. "You are enough, Alexia. How could you not be? Nena doesn't need perfection. She needs you, as you are. She needs someone who would see her, really see her, and choose her anyway. And that's exactly what you did and what you do every single day."
"But I didn't at first. I said I wanted to give her back to the orphanage and-"
"And you proved that you did want her. That's what matters. You were scared and you didn't let the fear win. You looked for her, and you kept showing up, and that's what she'll remember."
They sat in silence for a while, the only sound the kid's soft breathing and the distant hum of Barcelona traffic outside. Alexia watched the small chest rise and fall.
"How do I make her believe it?" Alexia asked, finally. "That I'm not going anywhere? How do I prove it?"
"You keep showing up, mi amor... there's not much you can do," Eli said simply. "I already told you that. You need to be there, show up every day, in every way you can. You remind her that she has a family, that she has a place in this world. You let her be angry when she needs to be angry. You let her be scared. You hold her through the hard times... it won't happen overnight, mija. Healing never does. But it will happen. I promise you, it will happen."
Alexia nodded slowly, then carefully stood, her muscles stiff from the tension they carried. "I should put her to bed properly. She'll hurt tomorrow if she sleeps like this all night."
Eli helped transfer the kid into Alexia's arms. She carried her upstairs to her bedroom in Eli's house. They had decorated it together over the past few weeks- Alexia, Eli, and Alba all contributing ideas while the kid watched with wide eyes, like she couldn't quite process that this space was for her.
The walls were painted a soft green because the kid had said it was one of her favourite colours. The shelves were lined with some books and toys that Eli and Alba had bought, spending hours in stores trying to guess what a twelve-year-old girl who'd never had anything might like.
The bed was covered with a Cat Culer duvet that the kid had stared at with the biggest smile on her face when Alexia had first shown it to her, running her fingers over the cat like it was something sacred and precious.
There were pictures on the wall now, too, photos that were taken a few weeks after she moved in with Eli.
The first was Alexia and the girl running around the park with Nala.
Another showed Alba and Y/n baking cookies: the kitchen was a disaster, and the kid's hair and face were completely dusted white with flour.
Then there was a picture Alexia didn't know was being taken, of her and the girl playing football in Eli's backyard, both focused intensely on the ball.
The last one, taken by Eli, showed the kid being sandwich-hugged between Alba and Alexia as they watched a game Alexia couldn't even remember. These were proof of their life together.
As Alexia tucked the blankets around her, the kid stirred, eyes fluttering open just slightly.
"Ale?" Her voice was slurred with sleep, barely audible.
"Sí, Cari? I'm here," Alexia said in a low voice, not wanting to disturb her sleep too much.
The kid's hand emerged from under the blanket, reaching out. "You're staying? Tonight? Please."
Alexia's original plan had been to go back to her own apartment, to give herself space to process everything that had happened, to maybe cry in private where the kid wouldn't see. But looking down at the fear still lingering in those half-open eyes, the way the kid's hand trembled slightly, she knew there was only one answer.
"I'm staying. I'll be right in the next room if you need me."
"Promise?"
"I promise, Cariño."
The kid's eyes drifted closed again, but her hand stayed extended, fingers reaching. Alexia took it, threading their fingers together, and the kid's grip tightened. "Ale?"
"Yes?"
There was a long pause, but then Cari's voice came out, so extremely soft that Alexia almost missed it.
"Love you."
The words were said hesitantly, like the kid was testing whether they were allowed, whether they were safe. Like maybe if she said them quietly enough, it wouldn't hurt as much if they weren't said back, even if Ale had told her multiple times she loved the girl.
Alexia felt her heart break and mend all at once. She would need a heart transplant after today, she was sure.
"I love you too, cariño," she whispered, squeezing the small hand in hers. "So, so much. More than I knew I could love anyone."
The kid's lips curved into the smallest smile, and her breathing began to even out into sleep. But she didn't let go of Alexia's hand.
So Alexia stayed on the edge of the bed, watching her daughter sleep, memorising the peaceful expression on her face so she could carry it with her to Portugal and Switzerland and wherever in the world she would ever go.
So she could remember this moment when things got hard, when she missed home, when she wanted to quit everything just to get back to this small person who needed her.
Later, after she was sleeping and her grip had finally relaxed enough for Alexia to slip away, after Eli had gone to her own room with a whispered "goodnight, mija," Alexia found herself standing in her room.
It wasn't her childhood room, but she had painted it the same light yellow as her old walls. She was looking out the window. Eli's house was far away from the city, but from Alexia's room, she could see the city lights twinkling in the distance.
She pulled out her phone, hesitating only a moment before typing out a message to Miranda: We had a breakdown today.
The response came surprisingly quickly: Tell me what happened.
Alexia typed out a summary. She talked about the calendar, the tantrum, and the scratching. And how the words "don't leave me" would probably echo in her head for the rest of her life.
Another message: How are you feeling?
Alexia thought about it, really thought about it. About the scratch on her arm that would probably scar, about the sound of the kid's screams, about the weight of "I love you."
I'm very scared. Overwhelmed too.
Miranda saw the message, but didn't respond, so Alexia continued.
Alexia looked back toward the wall, toward the door. Her daughter was sleeping just a few meters away.
If I ever had any doubts about being her mom, now I'm certain. I'm exactly who I'm supposed to be for her. We both just need patience and understanding. I guess...
The message came right after.
Welcome to the club of parenthood, Alexia. Thank you for letting me know all of it. I'll make sure to work through this with her in our next session! Until next week.
Alexia set her phone down and moved quietly back to the kid's room, pushing the door open just enough to see her sleeping. She was finally at peace. Alexia felt something settle in her chest.
She knew today wasn't the last struggle she was going to face. Tomorrow will bring new challenges. There would be more tears, more struggles, more moments where neither of them knew quite what to do.
There would be the trip to Portugal, the month in Switzerland, the difficult conversations about why Alexia had to go and why the kid had to stay. There would be video calls where the kid cried, and Alexia felt helpless. There would be moments when Alexia questioned whether she was doing the right thing, whether she was enough.
But tonight, right now, they had this: a home, a family, and most important of all, a chance to heal together.
The kid had her mom, and Alexia had hers. There were now two generations of Putellas women, both learning what it meant to love and to stay when things got hard, to build something beautiful even in the middle of the scariest storm.
Alexia settled into the armchair in the corner of the kids room. She took a blanket from the wardrobe and wrapped it around herself. She knew she wouldn't sleep much and decided that it was better to just watch over her daughter through the night.
Her forearm throbbed a little where the scratch was healing, but she didn't mind. It would heal properly in a few days. They both would.
"I'm here, Cari," she whispered, watching the kid in the dimly lit room. Hoping that the words would find her unconscious mind in her sleep. "I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."
And this time, Alexia knew in her bones that it was true.
The city lingered outside, alive with sounds Alexia had known her entire life. Barcelona had witnessed so much of Alexia's life and journey, from a child who loved football, to a young player, to captain, to champion, and now...to mother. Inside the house, there was a small and new family resting, healing one difficult day at a time, building something with bricks of love, patience and understanding. Creating a connection that neither Alexia nor the kid had thought possible.
Tag list:
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