𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓!

𝐬𝐢𝐱

━━━━━

the moment the door shuts behind amirah, she finally feels as if she could breathe again. she had been brave all day, working, making conversations, even smiling on occasion, when deep down her whole world was falling apart.

the meeting with the board couldn't have gone any worse than it did. they made it a point to emphasise that there has been an 'unpleasant distraction' within the club lately. no names were dropped, but everyone was smart enough to understand that they were referring to amirah and her relationship with psg's number 10.

the directors claimed to value their staff, but they also made sure to highlight the fact that they value the image and performance of the club more — and wouldn't hesitate to terminate a staff member's contract if they saw it fit.

it was an indirect warning, an ultimatum, and amirah struggled to understand how they've managed to make her the villain in this whole situation when she's not the one who cheated and attracted all this negative attention from the public. to be labelled a distraction was truly a hard slap to the face, as she was probably the most dedicated and least problematic employee in the club.

what bothered her the most, however, was how none of the players came to her defence. she understood that they probably refrained because they didn't want the situation to escalate, but damn it, she just wishes at least one of them did. they were all people she considered to be family, so the fact that no one attempted to defend her gave her the definite conclusion that they really didn't care for her as much as they always claimed.

they were always going to pick their teammate's side, and she feels stupid for ever believing otherwise.

—

amirah steps beneath the shower, her head angled up, eyes closed, and she lets out a lengthy sigh as the hot water steadily pours over her, hitting her flesh, soothing away the stress pent up in her body.

she's trying to relax after the day she's had, but she's still replaying it over and over in her mind, so relaxing is easier said than done.

it's almost forty minutes later when she finally gets out, grabbing a towel from the cabinet and wrapping it securely around her body. she returns to her bedroom, and just as she finishes getting dressed, the doorbell rings downstairs.

foolishly, she assumes it's her sister and best friend coming to check on her, so she doesn't bother checking to see who is on the other side before answering.

"guys, honestly i'm fi– what the hell are you doing here?" her question is undeniably bitter, the disdain in her tone evident.

neymar's taken aback, not only by the harshness of his ex-fiancée's tone, but by the look in her eyes as well. she doesn't look great, she looks exhausted and her face is boring only a solemn expression. it hits him hard that he's managed to make the happiest woman in the world so miserable, and this makes him almost physically unbearable to himself.

guilt like this was a first for him, and there was nothing that he thought would make the gut-wrenching feeling go away.

"can i come in, please?" he asks softly, "i won't be long. i just— i really need us to talk."

amirah wordlessly stares at him for a moment, the resentment in her gaze unmissable. she doesn't answer him, instead she leaves him at the open door to find his own way inside.

neymar's movements are hesitant and awkward as he walks in the girl's cozy apartment, swiftly closing the door behind him. he follows her to the living room, sitting directly across from her, and he doesn't miss how her demeanor is almost cold as she stares back at him.

"uh," he starts, every word he'd planned to say abandoning him, the tense atmosphere not particularly helping his case. "before anything, i just really want to say i'm–"

"you're sorry." she scoffs, words clipped and dry. "yeah, i fucking know. i got that from the thousand texts you've sent me."

and she really doesn't mean to come off so rude and so bitchy, but her emotions are getting the better of her. she's struggling to keep a cool head, especially since the person responsible for all her suffering is sitting right in front of her.

cheating was something amirah was certain neymar would never do. she didn't think he was capable nor did she think he would ever be able to do something he knew would hurt her so much. but he did.

"i didn't mean to hurt you," neymar's frown intensifies, voice riddled with blatant misery. "i just— she was new and always available, and it all just got out of hand."

"would you like me better if i was like her? if i was white?"

her question catches him completely off guard, "what? no—"

"if i had long blonde hair, and blue eyes, and a thin figure – would you like me more then? am i not good enough for you, neymar?"

her words hit him hard and painfully. and he could see it on her face — the betrayal, the hurt, the broken trust. all of it. and it makes him feel as if he's going to be sick.

"amirah, that's not— you're more than enough for me."

"then what was it? did i not appreciate you enough? was i too needy or maybe i didn't care enough? what the fuck was it?" fresh tears blur her vision. "you were my person, neymar. mine alone. we loved each other, we got engaged, had our future planned out. and then you go out and do this?"

neymar's head falls in nothing but shame. he hurt her in one of the most painful ways possible, his actions leaving her with a deep wound, one that would take time to truly heal.

"remember what you promised me? loyalty." her voice cracks — she's putting a conscious effort in keeping her tears at bay. "i gave you every fucking part of me, and i just— i'm struggling to comprehend why that wasn't enough for you."

he wants to profusely apologise. he wants to scream out how sorry he is until she finally believes it. but he doesn't, solely because he knows he doesn't deserve a second chance after this.

"i don't love or care for anyone else the way that i do for you," neymar says, remorsefully, because he's painfully aware that he's destroyed their sweet love and turned it into something bitter and hateful. "if i could take everything back, i would."

"but you can't."

dread immediately consumes him at the mere thought that he might have just lost the best thing that's ever happened to him.

"look, i'm tired, it's been a long day." amirah mutters, glancing down at her hands, and neymar understands that she's ready for him to leave now.

nodding grimly, the footballer pushes himself off the sofa. he wants to beg her to return to his—their house, for the two of them to work things out without putting the painful distance between them both, but he knows he'd only be causing her more trouble if he did.

there are only three words that he wants to say as he turns to leave, but he quickly decides against it, figuring it wouldn't be appropriate given the circumstances. so, his 'i love you' turns into a 'goodnight'.