Caitlin's POV

Training was a mess today. I could feel it from the moment I stepped onto the pitch. My touches were sloppy, my passes short, and my reactions slow. It felt like I was running on autopilot, my mind constantly drifting to thoughts of Elena. We've been apart for 2 months now and I suppose we we're holding up but we weren't thriving away from one another. Or atleast I wasn't. I tried to shake it off, telling myself I just needed to push through, but no matter how hard I tried to focus, everything felt... off.

Katie caught my eye at one point, her brows furrowed in concern. She jogged over after I missed yet another pass.

"You alright, Cait? You're playing like you've never touched a ball before," she teases lightly, but I can hear the worry beneath her words.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a bit tired, that's all," I reply quickly, forcing a smile that doesn't quite reach my eyes. I hope she won't push it.

But of course, Katie being Katie, she wasn't about to let it go that easily. "You sure? You've been a bit off since... well, since Elena left."

I wave her off, my chest tightening at the mention of Elena's name. "I said I'm fine. Just one of those days, y'know?"

Katie gives me a long, searching look, like she's trying to decide whether to call me out on the obvious lie or let it go. Eventually, she just sighs and pats my shoulder.

"Alright, but if you need to talk, you know where to find me."

As she jogs back to her position, I catch Viv glancing over too, her sharp eyes following me as I struggle through another drill. I can feel them watching me, and it makes me want to play better, to prove that I'm not falling apart just because Elena isn't here. But no matter how hard I tried to get my head in the game, it was like something was missing, and I couldn't shake it.

By the time training ended, I was relieved to be heading home. The apartment felt so quiet when I opened the door—too quiet. I threw my bag onto the couch and made my way to the kitchen, grabbing a quick meal out of the fridge. Normally, Elena and I would cook something together, the kitchen full of her laughter, her teasing comments as she snuck bites before the food was ready. Now, there was just silence.

I sat at the table, poking at my food. My appetite had disappeared the moment I stepped through the door. The quiet was deafening, amplifying the swirling thoughts in my head. Where was Elena right now? Was she okay? Was she struggling as much as I was, or was she settling in just fine with her new team?

The food sat untouched as my mind spiraled. I missed her. I missed her voice, her laugh, the way she'd pull me in for a kiss after a long day. I missed the comfort of her presence, the warmth she brought to our home.

I couldn't take the silence any longer. Leaving the half-eaten plate on the table, I made my way to the bedroom and lay down, hoping that sleep would come quickly and take my mind off everything.

But sleep didn't come.

Instead, I lay there, half-awake, half-asleep, my body exhausted but my mind wide awake. The room felt too big without Elena beside me. The bed felt too cold. Every time I closed my eyes, I could see her face, the tired smile she'd give me after a long day, the way her eyes would light up when we'd share a moment together. It was all too much. I tossed and turned, pulling the covers tighter around me, but it didn't help.

Eventually, I gave up. I grabbed my phone from the bedside table and stared at it for a while. It was 2 a.m., and I knew she'd probably be asleep. But I couldn't help it. I needed to hear her voice.

I pressed the FaceTime button and held my breath as it rang. After a few moments, the screen lit up, and there she was—Elena, with her tired eyes and messy hair, but still so beautiful it made my chest ache.

"Cait?" she mumbles, her voice groggy. She rubs her eyes and sits up slightly, blinking at the screen. "Is everything okay?"

I don't answer right away, just stare at her face, my throat tight with emotion. She looks so far away, even through the screen.

"I couldn't sleep," I admit quietly, my voice barely above a whisper. "I just... I needed to hear you."

Her expression softens instantly, and even though I can tell she's exhausted, she smiles, the kind of smile that makes everything feel a little bit easier.

"I've been struggling to sleep too," she confesses. leaning back against her pillow. "It's weird, being here without you. I keep reaching for you in the middle of the night, but you're not there."

Her words hit me harder than I expect, and I feel my chest tighten again, but this time with something more than just sadness. It's the same ache she's feeling—the same longing, the same restlessness.

"I miss you," I whisper, my voice breaking slightly. "It's so quiet here without you. I don't know what to do with myself."

"I miss you too," she says, her voice soft and soothing. "It's hard, but we're gonna get through this, okay? Just a little longer, and then we'll be back together."

I nod, even though I don't fully believe it. It feels like forever, being apart like this. But hearing her voice, seeing her face—it helps, even just a little.

"Tell me about your day," I ask, desperate to hear her talk, to fill the silence with something familiar.

She smiles a little wider, her tiredness starting to fade as she launches into a story about training. "You wouldn't believe how nice the girls are. One of them, Jess, tried to teach me some ridiculous trick shot and, of course, I failed miserably. It's a good thing you weren't there to witness it, or I'd never live it down."

I chuckle softly, imagining her trying and failing at some over-the-top skill move. For a moment, it feels like things are normal again—like she is right there beside me, telling me about her day as we lay in bed.

But as her story goes on, I notice her eyes starting to droop, her words becoming slower and softer.

"Elena?" I whisper after a while, realizing she'd fallen asleep mid-sentence. I watched her for a few moments, the soft rise and fall of her chest as she slept. Even through the screen, she looks peaceful, and for a moment, it feels like everything's okay.

"Goodnight," I whisper, my heart aching as I reluctantly ended the call.

I lay back in bed, staring at the ceiling, but this time, the silence isn't quite so overwhelming. I still missed her—missed her more than words could express—but hearing her voice, seeing her face, had eased some of the loneliness. I closed my eyes, and for the first time that night, I felt myself drifting off to sleep.