***POV ISABELA***
*"A new crush?*
*American footballer Noah Cooper has been spotted several times in recent weeks with an unknown woman. Our team investigated and discovered that the mystery girl's name was Luana Muller."*
“Oh no!” I jump when the screen of my laptop is slammed shut. I look up and see who is standing in front of me.
“You've been reading this article all morning,” the person says.
“I'm re-reading it to realize that he's moved on. It was so fast...”
“What did you expect?” says Alex, sitting in the chair opposite the desk where I'm trying to work. “For him to wait for you? Or a begged for your love? For God's sake, Isabela, Noah is young and one of the most attractive guys in the country.”
I nod begrudgingly. Alex is the kind of friend who supports you when you need it, but isn't afraid to ask you out. He'll give you the hard truth, even if it hurts.
“When I saw he at training that day...” I sigh, remembering the same horrible feeling I've had since I saw him with that girl. “He didn't even look at me... He completely ignored me.”
“Girl, what was the last thing you said to him when you found?” asks Alex, even though he already knows the answer.
“That I didn't love him.”
“Exactly! After he humiliated himself, begging for you...” “You know why I did what I did,” I interrupt.
“I do, and you know I never agreed with this insanity. Does Daniel want to blackmail you? Let him. Will people talk? Let them talk. Nobody pays your bills but you. You’re a beautiful, independent, single woman who doesn’t owe anyone an explanation. Your biggest problem is caring too much about what others think.”
“My biggest concern is Isis.”
“Sorry, but she’s old enough to understand the situation. She’s not a child throwing tantrums anymore.”
Our conversation is cut short when my phone buzzes on the desk. I glance at the screen, seeing Mayara’s name on the display.
I pick up the phone and turn it toward Alex so he can see as well.
“There she goes, piling more work on you,” he comments.
“In a way, it’s good… More work, less time to think about him.”
I answer the call and put it on speakerphone.
“May,” I say as I pick up.
“Isa! Are you busy?” she asks, sounding excited.
“Just working on a few articles. Why?”
“We’re covering the finals, remember?”
"Of course. How could I forget?"
“So, are you up for covering today’s practice?”
The mere mention of practice makes my heart race. I know who I’ll see there...
“I’m on my way,” I reply.
“The team will meet you at the entrance.”
“Okay.”
“Thanks, darling. You’re the best!” she says before hanging up.
I put the phone back on the desk and looked at Alex.
“I don’t know why you take these assignments, knowing you’ll see him and torture yourself again,” he starts, giving me a lecture.
How do I explain to him that I take these jobs just to see Noah? Even from afar, it eases the ache in my chest.
“I can’t say no to the director.” I turn my attention back to my phone.
“I don’t believe it!” he exclaims. “You take these jobs to see Noah!”
“Of course not,” I lie.
“You’re a terrible liar…”
“I must be pretty good, since Noah believed me when I told him I didn’t love him anymore.”
“I’m this close to having a word with that guy,” he says, crossing his arms angrily.
I get up from the chair and sigh.
“I’m going to get ready,” I inform him.
After thirty minutes, I’m finally ready. Jeans and a white button-down shirt with the Television station logo. I apply minimal makeup, just enough to hide my dark circles.
I grab my bag and car keys and leave my room.
“I’m heading out,” I notice to Alex, who’s lying on the couch watching a comedy movie.
“Good luck!” he shouts without taking his eyes off the screen.
I leave my house, disable the car alarm, and get in to start another day of emotional endurance.
The training facility isn’t far from my house, about a twenty-minute drive. I show my press badge at the gate, and it opens, granting me entry. I park in the designated area for reporters and spot some colleagues waiting for me.
Taking a deep breath, I grab my phone and step out of the car.
“Good morning,” I greet them.
“Good morning,” they reply in unison.
As I lock my car again, the assistant approaches to set up my microphone and earpiece.
“Need a makeup touch-up?” the makeup artist asks, and I shake my head.
I take the microphone in hand, ready to start work.
The players are warming up, but my eyes can’t leave him. Sweat drips from his neck and disappears under his shirt. I take a deep breath.
He lifts his shirt to wipe his face, revealing his toned abs.
“Someone fan me! I’m going to pass out!” the assistant next to me exclaims. I know she’s talking about him.
“Be professional, Karina,” I snap at my assistant. I couldn’t hold it in. Damn it. Why does he have to be so attractive? Why did he have to lift that damn shirt?
“Break!” the coach calls out.
My eyes stay on him. For a moment, our gazes lock. This time, I don’t look away like I’ve done so many times before.
We haven’t spoken in a while, but right now, at this moment, our eyes scream of longing.
He looks away when that girl approaches him, talking incessantly.
I suppress my irritated expression. She never leaves his side…
“Noah Cooper is giving an interview now. Let’s go!” my assistant informs me.
I nod and follow the swarm of reporters to where he’s standing, that girl still glued to his side.
Some reporters are already asking questions as I approach. I adjust my microphone to capture his voice.
“Noah, the world wants to know: does your heart finally have an owner?” the reporter beside me asks. It’s an obvious question—everyone wants to know.
My heart races.
His eyes meet mine once again.
“Yes,” he answers firmly, leaving everyone surprised. Naturally, his answer opens the door to countless personal questions.
My heart pounds, and I look down, fighting the urge to run. But I can’t flee. I’m not ready to hear him declare his love for another woman.
“We assume the mystery woman by your side is your girlfriend? The one who holds your heart?” another reporter asks.
Noah keeps looking at me.
“These past few days, I’ve received a lot of messages about this, so to clarify once and for all: Luana is just a friend and my assistant.”
He answers while still looking at me, and I feel like this is the response I’ve been searching for.
“So, who holds your heart?”
“We’re not together right now,” he says, taking a deep breath. “As for us, nobody will ever know everything—not even us,” he finishes, avoiding further questions.
I take a deep breath as the director speaks through my earpiece. It’s my turn to ask a question. I’m nervous my voice will betray me, but I need to remain professional—or at least try to.
“Noah, how are you feeling about such a crucial game?” I ask, holding his intense gaze.
“I’m used to high-stakes games. I hope it’s clean and that we come out on top.”
More questions follow, and he answers them one by one. When the interview ends, I let out a sigh of relief. My heart was pounding so hard I thought I might faint.
“Whoever holds his heart is one lucky woman,” my assistant whispers behind me to another colleague.
“Great work, team,” I say, removing the microphone and earpiece. After handing the equipment to my assistant, I turn to her with a firm gaze. I’m not happy with her unprofessional behavior.
“I hope next time we meet, you’ll act like the professional I know you are, not a desperate girl chasing a man,” I say, stern and firm in my tone.