Chapter Text
Doctor’s Y/N POV
The plane began its slow descent, and I pulled back the shade covering the small window to look outside.
London stretched out beneath me in a patchwork of red rooftops, narrow streets, and green spaces that seemed to weave through the city like quiet corridors of nature. The early September sun bathed everything in a warm light I hadn’t expected to find here. I had always imagined London as grey, cold, wrapped in heavy clouds.
But at that moment, it looked almost welcoming.
I took a deep breath as the aircraft descended lower and lower.
It felt strange to think that this city was now my new home.
Just a few weeks ago, I had never imagined leaving Spain. Much less moving to England to work. My life had been organised, stable, predictable. I had a good job at a club in Benidorm, a comfortable routine, and a relationship that, for a long time, I believed would last.
Five years.
Five years together, over in less than fifteen minutes.
I could still picture the corridor at the training centre as if I were standing there again. The unsettling silence. The way she avoided looking me in the eye.
And the simple sentence that changed everything.
“It happened.”
With one of the athletes.
I didn’t need to hear anything else.
That same week, I handed in my resignation. The club director tried to convince me to stay, but I knew I couldn’t keep working there. Not after that.
One impulsive evening, sitting alone in my small apartment in Benidorm, I opened my laptop and started sending my CV to clubs outside Spain.
Germany.
The Netherlands.
England.
I didn’t think about the distance. I didn’t think about my family.
I just wanted to leave.
Two weeks later, Arsenal Women got back to me.
Their interest was immediate. The previous club doctor had accepted an offer from Paris Saint-Germain Féminine, and Arsenal urgently needed someone to take over the medical department.
The interviews were quick.
Direct.
Professional.
Before I had time to overthink it, I was boarding a flight to London.
When the plane finally touched down, I felt the familiar vibration of the wheels against the runway. I picked up my backpack and made my way towards the exit with the strange feeling that I was crossing an invisible border in my own life.
As soon as I stepped through the arrivals doors, I spotted a man holding a small sign with the Arsenal crest.
I walked over.
“Doctor?”
I nodded.
“That’s me.”
He smiled politely.
“Welcome to London. I’m the club’s driver.”
He picked up one of my suitcases and led me to the car waiting just outside the terminal.
During the journey, I watched the city through the window.
Brick houses.
Red double-decker buses.
Busy streets.
London had an energy of its own.
The driver explained that the club had arranged a house for me close to the training centre.
“It’s right next to the Sobha Realty Training Centre,” he said.
That immediately put me at ease.
A few minutes later, we turned into a quiet street lined with neat two-storey houses.
The car stopped in front of one of them.
As I stepped out, I took a moment to admire it.
It looked like a classic English family home. The lower half of the façade was built from red brick, while the upper floor was painted in a light cream colour. A small front garden sat behind a low iron fence, with white flowers and neatly trimmed shrubs lining the stone path leading to the front door.
The front door was painted a deep charcoal colour, with a small tiled canopy above it.
Simple.
Elegant.
And incredibly inviting.
The driver handed me the keys.
“If you need anything, the club is always available.”
I thanked him and waited until he drove away before unlocking the door.
The moment I stepped inside and closed it behind me, the silence wrapped itself around me.
The ground floor was open-plan and filled with natural light. The living room greeted me first, centred around a large L-shaped sofa facing a wall-mounted television. Sunlight streamed through the wide windows, brightening the pale wooden flooring.
At the back of the room was a modern, practical kitchen with white cabinets and a spacious worktop.
Beside it was a small pantry, already stocked with a selection of everyday essentials.
Near the staircase, I found a compact home office. It was simple, with a desk, a comfortable chair, and an empty bookshelf that would probably end up filled with paperwork before long.
There was also a small but functional bathroom downstairs, with a sink and toilet.
I headed upstairs.
There were two bedrooms.
The first was modest in size and would make a perfect guest room.
The second was larger.
Clearly the master bedroom.
A large bed dominated the centre of the room, while a wide window allowed the warm afternoon sunlight to pour inside.
I opened the adjoining door and found the en-suite bathroom.
A spacious walk-in shower.
A modern sink.
Light wooden cabinets.
Simple.
Elegant.
Functional.
Back downstairs, something on the dining table caught my attention.
Several items had been neatly arranged there.
A welcome hamper.
Two boxes containing the club’s medical uniforms, each embroidered with the Arsenal crest.
A welcome folder.
And another, much thicker file.
I picked it up and opened it.
It contained a complete profile of every player in the squad.
Medical history.
Previous injuries.
Physical data.
Medical reports.
A small smile crept onto my face.
Clearly, they took the medical side of football very seriously.
I closed the folder and placed it back on the table.
The fatigue from travelling was finally catching up with me, and all I wanted was a hot shower.
I went back upstairs and stepped into the en-suite.
The hot water relaxed my muscles almost instantly.
For several minutes, I simply stood there with my eyes closed, letting the tension of the past few weeks slowly wash away.
Afterwards, I changed into comfortable clothes and finally unpacked my suitcases.
Clothes into the wardrobe.
Toiletries into the bathroom.
Books onto the bedside table.
Then I set up my laptop on the desk downstairs.
Later, I ordered sushi through a delivery app.
While waiting for it to arrive, I sat on the sofa and opened the players’ medical file again.
I flicked through a few pages.
Name.
Age.
Medical history.
A squad full of talent.
When the doorbell rang, I collected the food and ate slowly at the kitchen table while the house remained completely silent.
After dinner, I prepared everything for the following day.
Laptop in my backpack.
One of the club’s medical uniforms laid out.
The schedule checked in the welcome folder.
Tomorrow, I would officially report to the training centre.
I picked up my phone and called my family back in Spain.
The conversation was short, but comforting.
When I hung up, I looked around the living room once more.
New house.
New city.
New job.
I took a deep breath.
Then I switched off the lights and headed upstairs.
Tomorrow, my new life in London would truly begin.
(…)
I woke up a few minutes before my alarm.
For a moment, I stayed in bed, staring at the ceiling as the soft morning light filtered through the curtains. The silence inside the house still felt unfamiliar. Back in Benidorm, I always woke to the sound of traffic, voices drifting up from the street, and the constant warmth of the Mediterranean.
Here, it was different.
Peaceful.
I took a deep breath and sat up.
First day.
I walked into the en-suite bathroom. Splashing cold water over my face woke me up completely. Then I changed into one of the medical uniforms the club had left for me the previous day: dark training trousers and a red polo shirt embroidered with the Arsenal Women crest.
I tied my hair into a simple ponytail.
The two earrings in each ear were exactly where they always were.
The tattoos covering much of my back remained completely hidden.
Professional.
That was how I needed to be.
I made myself a quick coffee in the kitchen and looked out over the small front garden while I drank it.
The training centre was only a few minutes away.
I could have driven.
Instead, I decided to walk.
I needed to get a feel for the neighbourhood.
I needed time to clear my head before officially stepping into this new world.
I left the house and walked along the quiet street. The morning air was cool but pleasant. In the distance, I could already see the modern buildings of the Sobha Realty Training Centre.
As I got closer, the scale of the place became even more impressive.
Perfectly maintained pitches.
Contemporary glass buildings.
Staff and players moving in and out.
I took a deep breath before stepping inside.
At reception, I approached the front desk.
“Good morning.”
The receptionist looked up from her computer.
“Good morning.”
“I’m the new team doctor.”
She smiled immediately.
“Of course, Doctor. We’ve been expecting you.”
She picked up the phone and spoke briefly to someone.
“They’ll be here to collect you in just a moment.”
Only a few minutes later, one of the club’s administrative staff appeared.
“Doctor, welcome to the club.”
I shook his hand.
“Thank you.”
He led me upstairs to a meeting room.
Inside were two members of the club’s board and the head coach.
The meeting was formal but friendly.
They explained the medical structure, the organisation of the coaching staff, and the club’s objectives for the season.
“It’s going to be a demanding year,” one of the directors said. “The league, domestic cups, European competitions.”
I nodded.
“The stronger our medical organisation is, the better we’ll be able to manage the players’ physical condition.”
The head coach listened carefully before finally speaking.
“We need the players performing at their highest level throughout the season. Especially during the busiest periods.”
“That’s exactly why I’m here,” I replied.
When the meeting ended, she stood up.
“Come on. I’ll introduce you to the team.”
We walked down the corridor towards the gym.
The atmosphere there couldn’t have been more different from the quiet meeting rooms. Music played softly in the background while players trained across different areas of the gym.
Some were lifting weights.
Others were working on mobility exercises.
The coach stepped into the centre of the room and raised her voice slightly.
“Everyone, can I have your attention for a moment?”
The players gradually stopped what they were doing.
Several pairs of eyes turned towards us.
“I’d like to introduce your new team doctor.”
She gestured towards me.
I stepped forward.
“Good morning, everyone.”
A few players nodded or greeted me quietly.
I continued.
“My name is Dr. Y/N . I’m a sports medicine physician, and I’ll be working with you throughout the season. My role is to monitor your physical condition, help with injury recovery, and make sure each of you can perform at your highest level.”
Several players moved a little closer.
I kept my tone calm and professional.
“I know every athlete has their own routines and preferred way of working. My goal isn’t to change what already works for you, but to become part of the team and ensure the best possible communication between the players, the coaching staff, and the medical department.”
One of the players raised her hand slightly.
“Will we still be working with the same physiotherapists?”
“Yes,” I replied. “The medical team remains exactly the same. I’m here to complement the excellent work that’s already being done.”
Several players nodded.
“If you have any physical concerns, even if they seem minor, I’d rather you speak to us early than wait until it’s too late,” I continued. “Many injuries start as small discomforts.”
The coach looked around the group.
“Right then. Back to work.”
Training resumed immediately.
She then led me to the medical department.
There, I met the rest of the performance staff.
Physiotherapists.
Strength and conditioning coaches.
Recovery specialists.
One of them placed several folders on the table.
“These are the complete pre-season reports.”
I sat down as they began explaining the squad’s current condition.
“Overall, pre-season went very well,” one of the physiotherapists said. “We’ve had very few complications.”
I started reading through the reports.
“Leah Williamson,” he said, pointing to one page. “Load management following her long-term knee recovery.”
I nodded while reading.
“Beth Mead,” another physiotherapist continued. “Minor muscular tightness during pre-season. Fully resolved.”
I turned the page.
“Kim Little is fully fit.”
Another page.
“Caitlin Foord had a slight calf overload at the start of pre-season, but responded very well to rehabilitation.”
I kept reading.
“Mariona Caldentey. Normal adaptation to training load.”
Another page.
“Steph Catley. Preventative monitoring only. Nothing concerning.”
I nodded.
“Overall, the squad seems to be in very good physical condition.”
“Yes,” one of them replied. “Pre-season was managed well.”
After reviewing the reports, I stood up and took a closer look around the medical room.
Treatment tables.
Physiotherapy equipment.
Neatly organised cabinets filled with medical supplies.
I spent several minutes checking the equipment, opening drawers, and asking technical questions.
I liked knowing the environment I would be working in.
I liked understanding how everything functioned.
When I finally sat down in the office that would now be mine, I realised the day had only just begun.
But for the first time since arriving in London, I felt something different.
Maybe it was simply focus.
Maybe it was the beginning of a new routine.
Or maybe it was the feeling that I was finally exactly where I was meant to be.