ACL
The medical room was eerily quiet except for the faint hum of the overhead lights and the muffled voices of staff speaking somewhere down the hall. Mapi lay on the medical bed, her arms thrown over her eyes as though she could block out the world. Her body trembled slightly, and the tears she tried to suppress shuddered out in uneven breaths. She still wore her kit, her socks pushed down to her ankles, boots removed and discarded in a corner of the room. The bandage hastily wrapped around her knee did nothing to ease the sharp pain radiating from it, nor the fear clawing at her chest.
Ingrid sat perched on the edge of the narrow bed, her eyes full of worry as she looked down at Mapi. Her kit was damp with sweat, her dark hair sticking to her face, but she didn’t seem to notice. All her focus was on the woman beside her. Her hand rested lightly on Mapi’s side, her thumb drawing slow circles through the fabric of her jersey in an attempt to comfort her.
“María,” Ingrid murmured, her voice low and soft, almost hesitant. She didn’t often see Mapi like this—so utterly defeated. It broke her heart.
Mapi didn’t respond. Her arms stayed firmly over her face, shielding herself from Ingrid’s gaze. The silence stretched on, punctuated only by the occasional sniffle or the sound of her shaky breathing. Ingrid glanced towards the door, as if expecting someone to burst in with answers, but no one came. It was just the two of them.
Ingrid let out a quiet sigh, her hand gently squeezing Mapi’s side. “María,” she said again, this time a little firmer. “I’m here. Please, just talk to me.”
Mapi finally moved, but only to turn her head slightly to the side, her arms still covering most of her face. Her voice, when it came, was muffled and thick with emotion. “No puedo… no puedo hablar ahora,” she choked out.
Ingrid’s chest tightened even further. Hearing the pain behind those words made her feel helpless. She leaned down, brushing her lips lightly against Mapi’s temple. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “You don’t have to say anything.”
Mapi’s stomach heaved with another quiet sob, her body curling slightly towards Ingrid as if seeking some kind of anchor. Ingrid shifted on the bed, making room for herself despite the tight space. She slid her arm more firmly around Mapi’s waist, pulling her closer.
“It seems like the end of the world right now, I know,” Ingrid said softly, her voice laced with that familiar Norwegian lilt. “But it’s not, María. I promise you, it’s not.”
Mapi let out a bitter laugh through her tears, her voice cracking as she finally moved her arms, revealing her tear-streaked face. Her brown eyes, rimmed red, locked onto Ingrid’s, full of anguish. “It feels like it,” she said. “I… I can’t… jugar más.”
Ingrid’s heart clenched. She reached up, her fingers brushing a stray strand of honey-blonde hair away from Mapi’s damp cheek. “You don’t know that yet,” she said gently. “We’ll wait for the scans, and whatever they tell us, we’ll deal with it. Together.”
Mapi shook her head, a fresh wave of tears spilling over. “Es… es mi ACL,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I know. I feel it. It’s bad.”
Ingrid didn’t argue. She didn’t try to deny it or offer false hope. Deep down, she knew Mapi was probably right. The way she’d gone down, clutching her knee, the way she’d cried out in pain—it all pointed to the same grim possibility. But Ingrid also knew that now wasn’t the time for practicality. Now was the time for reassurance.
“Even if it is,” Ingrid said softly, “you’ll get through this, my love. You’re the strongest person I know. And I’ll be here, every step of the way.”
Mapi closed her eyes tightly, her lips trembling as she tried to suppress another sob. “No quiero ser fuerte ahora,” she admitted, her voice barely audible. “Estoy… estoy cansada.”
“I know, kjære,” Ingrid murmured, slipping into Norwegian without thinking. The endearment rolled off her tongue like a balm, soft and soothing. “I know you’re tired. And you don’t have to be strong right now. Just let me take care of you, okay?”
Mapi nodded weakly, her hand reaching out to clutch Ingrid’s shirt. Ingrid took it without hesitation, threading their fingers together and squeezing gently. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the only sound in the room Mapi’s uneven breaths and the faint hum of the lights.
After a while, Mapi’s voice broke the silence, fragile but determined. “You… you stay here? Conmigo?”
“Of course,” Ingrid said immediately, her tone leaving no room for doubt. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Mapi let out a shaky breath, her grip on Ingrid’s hand tightening slightly. “Lo siento,” she whispered, her eyes flickering up to meet Ingrid’s. “Por… por todo esto.”
Ingrid shook her head, a small, sad smile tugging at her lips. “You don’t have to apologise, baby. None of this is your fault.”
Mapi didn’t respond, her gaze dropping to where their hands were intertwined. Ingrid could see the exhaustion etched into her features, the way her shoulders sagged as though the weight of the world had settled on them.
“María,” Ingrid said gently, tilting Mapi’s chin up so their eyes met again. “I know it feels impossible right now, but we’ll get through this. Together. Do you trust me?”
Mapi hesitated for only a moment before nodding, her tears starting to slow. “Sí,” she said quietly. “Confío en ti, Princesa.”
Ingrid’s smile softened, her thumb brushing over Mapi’s cheek. “Good,” she murmured. “Because I’ll never let you face anything alone. Not ever.”
Mapi leaned into her touch, her eyes closing as she let out a deep, shuddering breath.