Chapter Text
The first thing William noticed about Kara was that she looked like she wanted to disappear.
It was strange.
Everyone in the room knew who she was.
Everyone.
The woman standing near the window of the Grand Palais, dressed in an elegant black suit, was not just another athlete attending the French Sports Awards.
She was the woman who had conquered mountains.
The woman who had won the Tour de France Femmes twice.
The woman whose name was written in cycling history alongside legends.
The Queen of the Alps.
And yet, instead of enjoying the attention, Kara was standing alone, holding a glass of sparkling water, looking outside at the Paris lights like she would rather be somewhere else.
William understood that feeling.
Probably better than most people.
He knew what it was like to walk into a room and feel hundreds of eyes following him.
Footballers were always expected to be confident.
Always smiling.
Always ready for another photo.
But sometimes, after ninety minutes on a pitch, after all the noise of the stadium disappeared, he just wanted silence.
Maybe that was why he walked toward her.
Or maybe it was because she looked peaceful in a room full of chaos.
"Running away?"
Kara turned.
For a second, William wondered if he had interrupted something.
Then he saw the small smile appearing on her face.
"Cyclists don't run."
Her voice was softer than he expected.
William smiled.
"Right. Sorry. Riding away?"
A quiet laugh escaped her.
Not the polite laugh athletes gave during interviews.
A real one.
"No. Just taking a break."
William nodded.
"Same."
They stood there for a moment, both looking outside.
The silence wasn't uncomfortable.
That surprised him.
Usually, silence with strangers felt like something that needed to be filled.
With Kara, it didn't.
"You don't seem like someone who likes these events," William finally said.
She looked at him.
"You do?"
He laughed.
"Not really."
"Then why are we both here?"
William thought about it.
Sponsors.
Obligations.
The image of being a successful athlete.
"Because apparently winning games means you have to wear uncomfortable clothes and talk to people."
That made her laugh again.
"Winning races too."
And that was how it started.
Not with fireworks.
Not with some magical moment.
Just two exhausted athletes admitting they hated fancy events.
Later that evening, William learned things about Kara that surprised him.
She lived in the Alps.
Not Paris.
Not Monaco.
Not some luxurious apartment filled with trophies.
A small village.
A farmhouse.
Mountains.
"I thought everyone at your level lived somewhere glamorous," he admitted.
Kara smiled.
"I spend half my year traveling. When I come home, I want to know the names of my neighbors."
William looked at her.
There was something different about the way she talked about home.
Football had given him everything.
But sometimes he wondered if it had taken something too.
"Do you ever get tired of cycling?" he asked.
It was probably not the question most people asked her.
Usually they asked about victories.
Records.
Training.
Future goals.
Kara looked surprised.
Then she looked down at her glass.
"Sometimes."
William didn't expect that answer.
"Really?"
"Of course."
She smiled sadly.
"I love cycling. I really do. But sometimes people forget there is a person underneath the jersey."
For a moment, William didn't know what to say.
Because he understood.
More than she probably realized.
"I think people forget that about football too."
Their eyes met.
And for the first time that night, neither of them felt like they were talking to another athlete.
They were just talking to another person.
When the gala ended, they exchanged numbers.
Nothing dramatic.
No promises.
No expectations.
Just:
"Maybe we can talk again?"
William smiled.
"I'd like that."
Kara hesitated before walking away.
"William?"
"Yeah?"
"Next time we meet, I'll teach you how to ride properly."
He raised an eyebrow.
"I know how to ride a bike."
Kara looked at him with amusement.
"You play football. That doesn't mean you know how to climb a mountain."
William laughed.
"How hard can it be?"
The smile she gave him should have warned him.
"Very."
Three weeks later, William would learn that Kara Moreau had been right.
Mountains did not care about trophies.
They did not care about fame.
They did not care if you were a Premier League defender.
A mountain only cared about one thing.
Whether you were ready to keep going.
And somehow, somewhere between the first climb and the first shared sunrise, William would begin to understand Kara's world.
And Kara would begin to understand his.
Because sometimes the most important journeys don't end at a finish line.
They begin there.