Peace - Erling Haaland Fanfiction

Chapter 11

I stood outside his apartment, but I couldn't muster the courage to ring the doorbell. I never felt prepared to see him because each time I ended up at his place, it was driven by something other than my rational mind, leaving me in a constant state of conflict. Before I could turn around and leave, the door swung open, revealing Erling standing there. He was dressed in a grey tracksuit, his long hair cascading down his shoulders, and a concerned expression etched on his face. "I was waiting for you," he said softly.

I had a flood of thoughts swirling in my mind. I wanted to be angry at him, to confront him about his actions. I wanted to express my hurt over his pretending not to know me, and I wanted to associate his name with the negative reputation that football stars often have when it comes to playing with women's emotions. But all that escaped my lips was, "I'm struggling to keep it together."

Surprisingly, his expression remained unchanged, and he simply stepped aside to let me enter. I followed him inside, and we settled on the same couch where we had shared a hug—the memory still vivid in my mind. "What's on your mind?" he inquired gently.

It felt like an overwhelming weight, but I had been grappling with these thoughts in solitude for far too long, with no one to confide in. I had always yearned to unload my thoughts onto someone, but I hesitated to burden Mum or Tilly with them. "My dad passed away five years ago," I started, noticing Erling's expression shift to one of seriousness and concern. "On the day he had a heart attack, we had an argument. I ran away from home, only to receive a call requesting my presence at the hospital. By the time I arrived, it was too late. He was gone." Tears streamed down my cheeks. "I blame myself," I confessed, feeling the weight of guilt pressing down on me. "If only I hadn't argued with him. If only I had just swallowed my pride and promised to focus on my studies, to get good grades rather than going to a party that night. If only I hadn't been so stubborn, sneaking out of the house every other night to meet my friends. If only I hadn't told him he was the worst father ever. Maybe then, he would still be here."

The memory transported me back five years ago. I had returned home from a shopping trip, laden with bags filled with dresses, makeup, and all the necessities for a party later that night. As I entered the house, I was greeted by my dad.

"Aria, honey, the school called today and mentioned your grades are slipping. I've noticed you've been sneaking out every night, but I haven't said anything," he remarked, his eyes falling on the bags in my hands. "I suppose you'll be going out tonight as well, but I can't allow you to do that."

"Dad, just this once. I've been looking forward to this party for weeks. I've been counting down the minutes," I pleaded, clutching my shopping bag tightly. "Please, dad, just tonight."

"I'm sorry, but no. You can wear these clothes when we go on vacation—" he began, but I couldn't hold back my sarcasm.

"Vacation? Like you bring in any money into this house," I snapped without thinking. "You've given me barely enough to buy rags. I had to borrow money from my friend to buy this dress, and now you're telling me I can't go to the party?"

"Aria, I have your best interests at heart," he replied, remaining calm yet firm. "I promise, I'll make it up to you once your grades improve. I'll take you to watch a football match with Tilly and Mum."

"That'll never happen," I sobbed. "You won't make that happen, because you're the worst father ever."

The mere recollection of those hurtful words I hurled at him shattered my heart into countless pieces. To realise that I had argued with him over something so trivial, yet it had seemed insurmountable at the time, was utterly devastating. I clutched at my chest as tears streamed down my face, my sobs echoing loudly, oblivious to my surroundings. Oh, how I would give anything to turn back time, to have my dad still beside us. The thought of how much pain I must have caused him that day was unbearable. I never had the chance to apologise for my behavior, and it was too late. The weight of guilt seemed immeasurable, and I doubted I would ever be able to forgive myself.

I felt a pair of arms envelop me, pulling me into a comforting embrace. My back was gently stroked as soothing words washed over me. "It's not your fault," the voice whispered, offering solace in the midst of my anguish.

I buried my face into Erling's shoulder, my tears soaking his jacket as muffled sobs escaped from my lips. Hoping I wasn't too loud, I cried softly, finding support in his warm hold. His arms tightened around me, cradling the back of my head tenderly as his fingers gently ran through my hair. As exhaustion washed over me, my mind grew hazy, and darkness enveloped my vision.