Chapter 87

POV NOAH

The following days were hard.

Hard in a way I couldn’t explain.

It wasn’t just exhaustion.

It wasn’t just pressure for the game.

It was something constant.

Heavy.

Present in every second.

Every minute.

Every breath.

I kept training.

Because I had to.

Because there was one week left until the most important game of the season.

The game that could change everything.

My career.

My life.

My future.

But my mind…

Wasn’t there.

My body ran on the field.

Trained.

Executed.

Responded to commands.

But my head…

Was somewhere else.

Isabela.

Always, Isabela.

It was as if everything around me had lost focus… and only she remained clear.

I saw her every day.

Without fail.

She kept covering the training sessions, just like always.

Professional.

Discreet.

Impeccable.

But different.

Very different.

Quieter.

More distant.

As if she had built an invisible barrier between us.

And even trying to maintain that cold, controlled posture…

I noticed.

In the small details.

In the silences.

In the way she avoided looking at me for too long.

She was suffering.

And that destroyed me.

More than anything else.

During training, at certain moments, our eyes would meet.

And in those seconds…

Everything stopped.

The noise of the field disappeared.

The voices faded.

And only that existed.

The pain.

The longing.

The overwhelming urge to cross the field, hold her, and say everything would be okay.

But it wouldn’t.

Not yet.

And she always looked away first.

Always.

As if looking at me was dangerous.

As if it would hurt more.

And I didn’t pressure her.

Not after everything.

I had thought a lot.

More than I should have.

More than was healthy.

And I concluded that she needed that time.

Isabela had already carried too much pain in her life.

With Daniel.

With lies.

With betrayals.

With broken promises.

She didn’t deserve more of that.

Not from me.

And until I resolved that situation…

Until I found out the truth…

I had no right to ask for anything.

Not trust.

Not understanding.

Much less forgiveness.

So I respected it.

Even if it was destroying me inside.

During one of the training sessions, in a break, my eyes automatically drifted to the sideline.

As always.

As if my body already knew where to look.

She was there.

With the microphone in her hand.

Talking to the cameraman.

But her gaze was distant.

Lost.

As if she were somewhere else.

For a moment…

She lifted her eyes.

And saw me.

Our gazes met.

My chest tightened sharply.

She stood still for a second.

A second too long.

Too heavy.

As if something was about to happen.

As if she wanted to say something.

Take a step.

Close the distance between us.

But then…

She took a deep breath.

And looked away.

Like always.

My heart sank.

She wanted to talk.

I could feel it.

But she still couldn’t.

And I understood.

As much as it hurt.

As much as it consumed me.

I needed to give her that time.

But there was something I couldn’t delay anymore.

Luana.

If I wanted answers…

If I wanted the truth…

I had to start with her.

A few days later…

I got in my car.

Without warning.

Without sending a message.

Without giving her any chance to prepare.

I needed to catch her off guard.

I needed to see her reaction.

The truth often shows in the details.

When a person doesn’t have time to think.

When they don’t have time to build a version.

When they act on impulse.

When I stopped in front of her building, I took a deep breath.

The air felt heavy.

My heart was racing.

More than it should.

I pressed the intercom.

A few seconds later…

“Hello?”

Her voice.

Slightly hesitant.

“It’s me.”

Silence.

Short.

But meaningful.

“Noah?”

“Yeah.”

Another second of pause.

“Oh… come up.”

The gate unlocked with a click.

I went up.

Each step echoed in the silent hallway.

I rang the doorbell.

She opened it.

And the surprise on her face was instant.

“Noah…” she said, slightly frowning. “Did something happen?”

“Can we talk?”

She hesitated.

A second.

Maybe two.

But I saw it.

I saw the discomfort.

“Of course… come in.”

I stepped inside.

The apartment was simple.

Organized.

She closed the door behind me.

“Do you want anything? Water… coffee…”

“No… thanks.”

My voice came out colder than usual.

More controlled.

She noticed.

I saw it in her eyes.

“So… what happened?”

I took a deep breath.

Straight to the point.

No detours.

“I wanted to talk about the baby.”

She froze.

Literally.

Her body went rigid.

Her eyes widened slightly.

“The baby?”

I nodded.

“Yes.”

She tried to smile.

But it didn’t reach her eyes.

“Of course… You can talk.”

I crossed my arms.

Observed every detail.

Every reaction.

“How far along are you exactly?”

She hesitated.

And that alone was enough.

“I… don’t know exactly yet…”

I frowned.

“Have you done a blood test?”

She blinked.

Too quickly.

“Not yet…”

Strange.

Very strange.

“Have you scheduled prenatal care?”

She looked away.

“I haven’t had time yet…”

My stomach tightened.

That didn’t make sense.

At all.

“Luana…” I said, keeping my tone calm. “I want to be involved in everything.”

She looked at me, surprised.

Almost alarmed.

“Everything?”

“Everything,” I repeated. “Tests… appointments… ultrasounds.”

She was visibly uncomfortable.

Shifted her weight.

Avoided my gaze.

“Noah… I don’t know if that’s a good idea…”

“Why?”

She took a deep breath.

“You’re a famous player…” she began. “If someone sees you with me in a clinic… hospital… the media will go crazy.”

She crossed her arms.

Defensive.

“I don’t want that… I don’t want my life exposed.”

I watched her in silence.

Analyzing.

But something inside me…

Didn’t believe her.

Not completely.

“Even so…” I replied. “I want to be involved.”

She fell silent.

And that only increased my suspicion.

“This child…” I continued, feeling the weight of the words might be mine.”

My chest tightened as I said it out loud.

“So I will be present.”

She hesitated again.

Stronger this time.

“Noah… maybe it’s better…”

“No,” I cut in, firm.

She looked at me, surprised by my tone.

“I’m going to be involved in everything.”

Silence.

Heavy.

Loaded.

“I’ll schedule with a doctor I trust.”

And that was it.

That exact moment.

I saw it.

She tensed.

For real.

Her shoulders stiffened.

Her breathing changed.

“You don’t have to…” she said too quickly.

“Yes, I do.”

My tone came out harder.

Firmer.

“I’ll schedule the appointment… blood test… ultrasound.”

Each word seemed to pressure her more.

“I want to do it as soon as possible.”

My heart was pounding.

Alert.

“This week.”

She swallowed hard.

Visibly nervous.

“Okay…”

But her voice came out weak.

Without conviction.

Without firmness.

And in that moment…

Something clicked inside me.

A piece.

A suspicion.

A pattern.

Because if she were really pregnant…

If that were true…

Why did she seem afraid?

Not worried.

Not insecure.

Afraid.

And that’s when I became sure of one thing.

Something was wrong.

Very wrong.

I feel like I’m close to the truth.

Even without knowing yet…

If I’m truly ready to discover it.