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The score is 2–0, and the stadium is on their feet. We’re dominating, but we still want more. We want a third.

In the 71st minute, I’m chasing a loose ball. This is my chance to get it. I run as fast as I can, reaching it before a defender. There’s no one between me and the goalkeeper, but I don’t want to waste an opportunity on a long shot, so I run the ball closer.

I’m at the edge of the box when I feel a sharp pain in my left knee. There’s a loud pop.

I cry out and fall to the ground.

I struggle to breathe through the pain, but there’s something else coming over me—panic.

My vision blurs, my heart races. Valentina runs toward me, her face full of concern and horror. The whistle blows. The crowd gasps. The medics and the stretcher are coming, but I don’t care.

My entire world is pain.

“Lexa, cariño.” Valentina’s voice barely reaches me. She kneels next to me, her hands hovering in the air as if she’s afraid to touch me. “It’s going to be okay. You’ll be okay.”

I can tell she’s lying.

“You’ll be okay,” she continues to lie. “The medics are coming. They’ll take care of you.”

I can only nod and cry. I can’t move. I can’t get up. I can’t play.

“Lexa, look at me,” Valentina demands. “Look at me.”

Her eyes are full of tears, but she’s trying to be strong for me. She holds my hand, squeezes it.

“Everything is going to be okay,” she repeats, her voice trembling.

The medics arrive to check my knee. They ask me questions I can’t hear. All I can think about is the pop. All I feel is pain and fear.

They put me on the stretcher. Someone says something about the ambulance. Someone else tells me to lie still.

“Valentina,” I whisper, searching for her.

“I’m here, Lexa. I’m right here. I’m not leaving your side,” she promises as I’m being carried away.

I hold onto her hand as if she could anchor me here, in this moment, instead of the ambulance, and I hold back what tears I can.

Crying would only make this worse. I don’t want to be weak in front of her. I can’t do that. Not now.

I’ve never felt so lost.

They load me into the vehicle, and Valentina climbs in after me. She sits next to me, holding my hand. Before the doors close, another person pushes in.

“Sir, it’s full,” the paramedic says.

“I don’t care. I’m her father,” Dad says, his voice gruff. “I’m going with her.”

The paramedic argues, and the driver refuses to move because it’s not safe. Dad insists, and finally, Valentina lets go of my hand and kisses my forehead.

“I’ll meet you in the hospital,” she promises. “I’ll be there as soon as possible. I love you, baby.”

“I love you too,” I whisper, and a fresh wave of tears spills down my cheeks.

She gets out, disappearing behind the closing doors. Dad takes her place.

“Lexa,” he says. “I’m here. I’m here with you.”

I look at him, angry that Valentina had to leave so he could play a parent again. But I’m in too much pain to tell him to fuck off.