You

The mirror reflected a woman Petal barely recognized. Usually, she was the girl in the oversized Bayern Munich hoodies, her curly brown hair tucked into a messy bun, and her face scrubbed clean of everything but moisturizer. She was the "little sister" of the social media department, the intern who blended into the background of the Säbener Straße training ground.

Tonight, the girl in the mirror wore a black dress that hugged every curve, ending dangerously high on her thighs. Her curls cascaded down her back like a dark waterfall. The red lipstick was a bold, defiant stroke against her pale skin, and the sharp flick of her eyeliner made her soft eyes look predatory.

"He won’t be clueless tonight," she whispered to her reflection, her voice trembling slightly.

For years, Petal had carried the weight of her love for Jamal Musiala. They had grown up together, their lives intertwined since they were children playing in the parks of London. When he moved to Germany, she eventually followed, landing an internship that kept her in his orbit. She had waited for him to see her, to realize that the bond they shared was more than just history.

But then came Chloe.

Chloe was everything Petal wasn't—loud, assertive, and possessive. She had sensed the threat Petal posed immediately. For months, Chloe had been showing up at the office under the guise of "bringing Jamal lunch," always making sure to stand between Petal and Jamal, always finding ways to remind Petal of her place as just a friend. And Jamal, sweet, focused, oblivious Jamal, did whatever Chloe asked. He had become a stranger wrapped in the arms of a woman who wanted to erase his past.

Petal stepped into her heels—modest in height but elegant—and grabbed her coat. It was Jamal’s twenty-first birthday. It was time to stop being the shy girl in the corner.

The party was held at a private lounge in Munich, the air thick with the scent of expensive cologne and the thumping bass of house music. When Petal walked in, the shift in the room was instantaneous.

"Petal?"

The voice belonged to Alphonso Davies. He stopped mid-sentence, his eyes widening as he took her in. "Is that actually you?"

Petal offered a small, mysterious smile. "Hi, Phonzie."

"Damn, girl. You look... wow. Jamal! Look who finally arrived!"

Jamal was standing near the bar, Chloe’s arm draped firmly around his waist. He turned, a casual smile on his face that froze the moment his eyes landed on Petal. His glass hovered halfway to his lips. His gaze traveled from the tips of her heels up the length of her legs, lingering on the curve of her hips before snapping to her face.

He looked like he had been struck by lightning.

"Petal?" Jamal cleared his throat, his expression shifting from shock to something darker, something unsettled. "You’re late."

"Better late than never," she replied, her voice smoother than she felt.

Chloe’s grip tightened on Jamal’s arm. "Oh, Petal. I almost didn't recognize you. That’s quite a... bold look for you. A bit much for a birthday, don't you think?"

Petal didn't even look at her. She kept her eyes locked on Jamal. "Happy birthday, Bambi."

Before he could respond, Leon Goretzka appeared at her side, sliding a hand onto the small of her back. "I didn't know our favorite intern was hiding all this under those hoodies. Can I get you a drink, Petal?"

"I’d love one, Leon," she said, allowing the midfielder to lead her away.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Jamal’s jaw clench. He didn't move, but his eyes followed her every step.

The night became a blur of loud music and stronger drinks. Petal wasn't a big drinker, but the adrenaline and the frustration of the past few months fueled her. She flirted—or tried to. She laughed at Leroy Sané’s jokes, she danced with Joshua Kimmich, and she intentionally avoided the VIP booth where Jamal sat like a brooding king.

Every time she glanced his way, he was watching her. Chloe was talking in his ear, gesturing wildly, but Jamal’s focus was glued to Petal. He looked uncomfortable, his brow furrowed as he watched his teammates hover around her like moths to a flame.

By midnight, the room was spinning. The red lipstick was likely smudged, and the liquid courage had turned into a heavy, sorrowful weight in her chest. She stumbled slightly near the exit, her head throbbing.

Suddenly, a firm hand gripped her elbow.

"That’s enough," Jamal’s voice was low, vibrating with an irritation she had never heard from him before.

Petal looked up, her vision hazy. "Jamal? Where’s... where’s the girlfriend?"

"I sent her home in a cab ten minutes ago," he snapped, his face tight. "You’re drunk, Petal. And you’re coming with me."

He didn't give her a choice. He maneuvered her through the crowd, ignoring the whistles from his teammates. He practically hauled her out into the crisp night air, the silence of the street hitting her like a physical blow.

He pulled out his phone, his thumbs flying across the screen. "I’m calling you an Uber. You can’t stay here like this."

Petal leaned against the cold brick wall of the building, her heels aching. "I was having fun, Jamal. Why did you pull me away?"

Jamal turned to her, his eyes flashing with a mix of anger and something she couldn't identify. "Fun? You were letting them all over you. Leon, Leroy... do you have any idea how you look tonight? That dress is... it’s not you."

Petal let out a sharp, jagged laugh. "Oh, I’m sorry. Is it not 'intern' enough? Does it make you uncomfortable that I’m not just the quiet girl in the background anymore?"

"It’s inappropriate," he said, stepping closer, his shadow looming over her. "You’re acting like someone you’re not just to get a reaction. It worked, okay? Everyone was looking at you. Is that what you wanted?"

"I wanted you to see me!" she shouted, the words tearing out of her throat before she could stop them.

Jamal froze. The streetlights cast long shadows across his face, highlighting the confusion in his eyes. "What are you talking about? I see you every day."

"No, you don't!" Petal felt the hot sting of tears behind her eyes. The alcohol made her brave, but it also made the pain unbearable. "You see what Chloe wants you to see. You see the girl who fetches the camera equipment and stays out of the way. You don't see the person who’s been by your side for fifteen years! You let her treat me like a stranger, Jamal. You do whatever she says, and you don't even care how it hurts me."

"Petal, she’s my girlfriend," he said, his voice softening but remaining defensive. "I have to respect her feelings. She felt like you were... too close."

"We were best friends!" Petal stepped toward him, her finger poking his chest. "We were everything. And the second a girl tells you to jump, you ask how high, even if it means pushing me away. You have no right to be mad at how I dress or who I dance with tonight."

Jamal grabbed her wrist, stopping her hand. His touch was warm, sending a jolt through her system that made her breath hitch. "I am mad. I’ve been miserable all night watching them touch you."

"Why?" she challenged, her voice breaking. "Why does it matter to you, Jamal? You’re not my boyfriend."

The silence that followed was deafening. Jamal stared at her, his grip on her wrist loosening but not letting go. His mouth opened, then closed. He looked like he wanted to say a thousand things, but the words were stuck in his throat. The cluelessness she had hated for so long was still there, warring with a sudden, sharp realization.

"I..." he started, his voice a mere whisper.

Petal felt the first tear roll down her cheek, leaving a dark trail through her makeup. "You don't get to have it both ways. You don't get to keep me in a box until you need a reminder of home, and then ignore me when it’s convenient for her. It hurts too much."

She pulled her arm away, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, surely ruining the eyeliner she had spent an hour perfecting.

"Petal, wait," Jamal said, reaching out for her again. "I didn't realize... I didn't know you felt like this."

"That’s the problem, Jamal," she sobbed, her shoulders shaking. "You never know. You’re so busy being the golden boy that you forgot to look at what was right in front of you."

A pair of headlights cut through the darkness, illuminating the street. A black car pulled up to the curb.

"Your Uber is here," Jamal said, his voice flat, filled with a sudden, hollow shock.

Petal didn't wait for him to open the door. She stumbled toward the car, her heart feeling like it was being ripped out of her chest. She scrambled into the backseat, the warmth of the car a stark contrast to the freezing realization of what she had just done.

"Petal!"

Jamal stood on the sidewalk, his hands at his sides, looking smaller than she had ever seen him. He looked like the boy she had known in London, lost and searching for a direction.

"Drive," Petal told the driver, her voice choked with sobs.

As the car pulled away, she looked back through the rear window. Jamal was still standing there, staring at the spot where the car had been, the neon lights of the club reflecting off his stunned, confused face.

She had finally gotten his attention. But as she watched him disappear into the distance, Petal wondered if she had destroyed the only thing that ever truly mattered.