The Truth Behind The Womanizer

50

Sofia POV
"Do you already have plans for who you want to invite?" I ask as Pedri enters my house. "Invite? For what?" he says grumpily. I raise my eyebrow and give him a little kiss. Pedri immediately walks into the kitchen and grabs a banana from my fruit bowl.

What's going on with him? Maybe the training didn't go well?

"For your birthday, of course," I say. "I'm not celebrating it," he grumbles. "Of course, you are. You're turning 21," I say incredulously. "I don't have time for that. In two days, I'm leaving for Germany for a week, and then it's almost here. I don't have time to plan a birthday party."

"But I can do it for you? Or you can hire a party planner," I insist. "Fine," the footballer sighs, eating his banana. "If you really want to, you can organize it. I'll hear about the cost."

"How sweet of you, Sofia. Thank you," I mutter. Pedri raises his eyebrow. "Sorry. Thank you," he mumbles.

We lie down on the couch together, and I rest my head on his shoulder. "I can't stay long. I have an early training tomorrow morning, and then I have to pack for Germany," he says.

"That's okay. I'm glad we can still see each other now. I'll miss you for a week," I say. I feel Pedri nod, and I turn on the television.

From the moment he came in, it was evident that something was bothering him. His usual warm and playful demeanor was replaced by a cold and distant air. I tried to engage him in conversation, asking about his day, but my attempts were met with short and irritable responses.

As we flipped through the channels, Pedri's irritation seemed to intensify. He sighed heavily, furrowing his brows at the screen. I hesitated, unsure of what had triggered this sudden change in his mood. Despite my efforts to understand, he continued to snap at me for the smallest things—whether it was an innocent comment or the way I held the remote.

I glanced at him, feeling a knot tightening in my stomach. It hurt to see him so distant, especially when I couldn't pinpoint the cause. I decided to give him some space, hoping that whatever was bothering him would pass.

The minutes ticked by in an uncomfortable silence. I stole glances at Pedri, his eyes fixed on the TV but distant, as if lost in his own thoughts. The tension in the room was palpable, and I struggled to focus on the show, my mind preoccupied with the heaviness in the air.

As the evening progressed, I mustered the courage to break the silence. "Pedri, is everything okay?" I asked, my voice gentle and concerned. Instead of a reassuring reply, he sighed in frustration, avoiding eye contact. No answer.

I bit my lip, my heart sinking. I felt a mix of confusion and hurt. What had I done to deserve this cold treatment? I desperately wanted to help, but Pedri's walls were up, and he seemed unwilling to let me in.

In an attempt to salvage the evening, I suggested a movie, hoping it would provide a distraction. Pedri's response was a curt nod, and we continued our strained coexistence on the couch.

The movie played on the screen, but the emotional distance between us felt insurmountable. I tried to lose myself in the plot, stealing glances at Pedri, who seemed lost in his own world.

As the credits rolled, I turned off the TV, the room now engulfed in an awkward silence. Pedri stood up abruptly, muttering something about needing some fresh air. I remained on the couch, a sense of helplessness washing over me.

The door closed behind him, and I was left alone with unanswered questions and a heavy heart.

After a while, Pedri returns, and I look at him. "Sorry, Soof. I shouldn't have treated you like that. I just have a lot on my mind, and it's so busy," he says.