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It started before kickoff. Her hands were shaking in the tunnel. Across from her stood FC Barcelona Femení — faces she used to celebrate with. Now they wouldn’t meet her eyes for too long. Behind her, Arsenal Women were talking tactics. She felt like she belonged to neither. First touch — heavy. Second touch — intercepted. By the 20th minute, the crowd had started reacting to her specifically. Not booing. Not cheering. Just… reacting. Every mistake felt amplified. “Focus!” someone shouted. Her brain translated it instantly: You’re embarrassing us. Then came the moment. She misread a pass. Barcelona broke forward. Goal. The stadium erupted. She stood frozen while her old teammates celebrated. One of them glanced at her — not cruel, not smug. But her spiralling mind twisted it. See? We’re better without you. Something inside her cracked open. The next challenge came in hard. She went down. No foul. She sprang up and shoved back. Players rushed in. “Cash, stop!” “Walk away!” “Breathe!” She wasn’t breathing. She was shouting — at the ref, at a Barcelona player, at no one. Words spilling out too fast to catch. The red card came. She laughed when it did. Actually laughed. And that scared people more than the shouting. She tore the tape from her wrists and threw it at the ground before walking off. Not to the tunnel. Not to the dressing room. Out. Her phone exploded in her hand the second she stepped outside. She didn’t turn it off. She wanted to see the damage. 📱 Arsenal Team Chat ⚽ Leah: What are you doing? Katie: Come back NOW. Alessia: Cash please. Another buzz. 📱 Ona 💙 (Ona Batlle) Talk to me. She typed fast, furious. I ruined it. Again. You were right. I’m too much. Three dots appeared instantly. I never said that. You’re not too much. You’re overwhelmed. She kept walking. Rain soaking through her kit. Another message. 📱 Mapi Hey. Breathe. 📱 Aitana It’s just a match. Just a match. To them maybe. To her, it felt like confirmation of every fear she’d had since leaving