Over the course of the next ten days, the people around me work tirelessly to get things set straight. It ruins my birthday, but I don't care about turning twenty-six. It's scarily close to thirty.

First, they scour the internet to find the original videos. The worst of the three that were circulated is one captured right outside my old apartment building. We were supposed to go out to meet Guro and Sam, but we had a terrible argument. As Scarlett walked out, I grabbed her hand, and that was where the video cut off.

It looked aggressive and controlling, I will admit.

The unedited footage, however, shows what followed that; how Scarlett let it happen, pulling me into a hug, pressing an apologetic kiss to my lips when we parted. I turned to go back inside, missing out on that lunch, and we made up when she returned.

With the clear evidence against the insults a certain newspaper has been hurling at me, my lawyer sends them an email, politely requesting that they remove the articles. My agent, who is currently in talks with Coca-Cola, makes sure to determine how much the brand deal would be worth, meaning we know what figure to sue them for.

The damage to my reputation could cost me €3.5 million. We are going to sue for five hundred thousand Euros less than that, per my request.

I am lounging on Alexia's sofa when I get the text saying that the injunction has been granted by the judge. Nala jumps down from my lap – we have made friends now – as I squeal, and Alexia is quick to congratulate me.

This means that they can't keep publishing articles. It makes the threat of taking the newspaper company to court very real. In fact, it terrifies them.

"You were worried for nothing," Alexia says, slotting herself in the gap between me and the back of the sofa, getting comfortable before reaching over me to get the TV remote.

"If you put El Silencio on, I'll fall asleep," I warn her. It has happened for every episode in the series, but the naps are not unwelcome when I spend my nights tossing and turning alone in my bed, wondering when this whole shitstorm will pass. Alexia's apartment is like a tornado shelter. Safe and unreachable from the outside world.

"Why?" I can feel her frown against my neck. "It is so exciting."

"I have enough excitement in my life."

A few more messages come through on the group chat between Jaimie, Leah, and I (a group chat I have tried to leave but somehow get added back to by Jaimie every single time). They are both overjoyed at the news. Leah has gone to watch the final of the Rothesay Open in Nottingham, but claims that this is better than if Jaimie wins later on.

To be honest, the England captain has done me a few favours since the final. She explained everything to Keira in an attempt to reassure me that the team won't hate me, and it worked. The lawyers' confidence has also helped me remember that the things the articles say are all lies, too, and Alexia has made it her mission to keep me in that mindset.

"What will happen now?" Alexia asks ten minutes into the last episode. I shift from my extremely comfortable, trying to forget the way she stiffens when I accidentally push back into her. Nala perks up at the sign of life from us, trotting over to lick the hand draped over my stomach. Alexia wipes her demon's saliva on my cheek, which makes it hard for me not to gag.

"I want to settle outside of court. We could compromise and negotiate it to €1 million. It's not about the money – Coca-Cola said they will go ahead with the deal as long as it is clear defamation. I just don't want people to think that I am some monster."

"You are not," she reminds me firmly.

"Yeah, well, I'm glad you think that. Now we just need everyone else to."

Two days later, after a gruelling back-and-forth, the newspaper company admits defeat.

They have no defence upon viewing the evidence we have, and it is embarrassing for them to have even published the articles before thoroughly checking their sources. It was a rookie mistake that some low-level, scum-of-the-earth journalist will pay for.

I get paid for the damage to my reputation, and I receive a heartfelt (but bullshit) apology from the Editor-in-Chief, his tail between his legs as he realises just how fucked he might be.

I will write an official statement, under the advice of my lawyers, that the same company will publish once they have removed the articles. It emphasises my innocence, and explains the situation fully. Some people are not aware that their actions have consequences, clearly. It is hard to trace the original poster of the videos after they became so widely spread, but I sincerely hope that they feel riddled with guilt. They could have cost me my career.

"What are you going to do now?" Leah turns out to be decent to talk to, especially when Jaimie is busy preparing to slaughter her opponents at Wimbledon – she is determined to win the one Grand Slam she hasn't had the chance to get her hands on yet. She has apologised for her dreadful tackle two seasons ago that sidelined me for two months, but I think she knows that my grudge disappeared the minute I really saw how happy she makes my sister. It's sickening, but it is good that Jaimie gets to be one of those people for once. "Are you happy that this is how it ends? This was a hellish twelve days, Fleur."

I hesitate to reply, stroking the top of Oli's head as he purrs away on my lap. "It is anticlimactic," I confess, though I think I am partly glad of that. I don't think I would handle a big court case on top of my World Cup preparation and the fact that I now have to live with the way I feel about Alexia. I can't tell if there is something there, or if she is just being nice.

"I think you have successfully distanced yourself from everything, which is a plus."

"Actually, Leah," I begin, because she will know whether this idea is good or bad. "It feels wooden. Impersonal. You know that I loved Scarlett, and I think two years together should culminate in more than a statement published by a newspaper who really has it out for me."

The implication of what I am suggesting is clear enough for her to think about it for a moment. Oli's purring keeps my apartment from being too silent, but I miss the tick of Spanish in the background. The sounds of a whiny dog who craves attention more than the biggest diva in Hollywood.

"I mean, Instagram is a good way of doing it," she finally says, the sound of her brain whirring almost audible over the phone. "You could write something more... heartfelt. A statement that is done by you, not your lawyer. I know that we have all been quiet about this, but it was wrong, Fleur, and it was fucked up, and we are all sorry that it happened to you. Keira is outraged that people dared to disturb the memory of our best friend with lies, same with me, and Georgia, and those who knew her. But we have no way to show our solidarity; our belief in you."

"So what? You'd repost it on your story?"

It would be a good confirmation of character.

"Yeah, I think that would be good. We want to fix this." As Jaimie reminded me, it is not those who know me that are the issue. "The evidence is out, and so is your official statement, but we haven't heard from you. If anyone wasn't convinced, they would be if her best friends chose to stand by you."

Objectively speaking, it is a very good move to make. I thank Leah and contact my lawyer straight away, who is enthusiastic with her agreement that it would only reflect positively on myself.

That evening, after I have come back from being force-fed by Alexia, I sit at the dining table, my apartment cloaked in darkness save for the soft glow of my phone screen and the lamp that stands in the corner.

Oli, uninterested in what I am doing, mewls as I disturb his sleep by resting my feet on the chair he has curled up on.

Before I start, I send a message to María, of whom I have not spoken to in a fair while. She has been away, seeing as she will become very busy once the transfer window opens in July. That's in two weeks.

Her first inquiry is what I have been doing going on 'dates' with Alexia Putellas, to which I am more or less defenceless, left with nothing to do but confess my own feelings and roll my eyes at how quickly she replies 'it is a mutual connection'. Then, she is content to help me sort through what I do and don't want to say, with a shocking efficiency that ignites the furnace in my heart that gets my cogs turning.

I type it out in half an hour, letting it stew in my notes app for a bit before sending it off to be checked over by my lawyer. She isn't going to change anything unless it impacts my image negatively and takes away from what she and her team have worked tirelessly to restore.

Then, when I get the go ahead and she has sent me it on a nicely formatted slideshow, I post it to my Instagram.

To you,

In an ideal world, these words would be unnecessary, but I feel that I must defend myself against such damaging and cruel statements. Falsehoods.

Every relationship has times of turmoil that exist equally to those of bliss. Sometimes, people are just not meant to stay together, and ugly endings are common. Scarlett and I did not have an ugly ending to our relationship.

We argued, as most couples do, but we made a mutual decision to break up, choosing to protect our connection and continue existing in each others' lives as friends. The circumstances of this are those that I wish to keep private, if you would grant me that.

The articles that have been published this week contain nothing but lies, based on edited videos that infringe our privacy. These videos have been cut off at awkward times and taken out of context, vilifying me in a cruel attempt to sabotage my reputation.

I am at a loss as to why this is happening.

This was my relationship – a real relationship – and I maintain my right to privacy. I do not owe you, or anyone, information about an extremely sensitive topic. I understand that I choose to share segments of my life with the world, but that is at my own discretion. This is an invasion. It is not acceptable.

You, the fans, are part of the sport; part of the reason I play. There is no room for dishonesty in football, and I will continue to advocate for this belief. You are not the narrator of my story, nor I yours. Do not let others seize control of your life. Stand strong and stand firm, and own it.

It is satisfying to watch the likes go up and the comments agree with me. Leah, as promised, puts it on her story, along with most of my old Chelsea teammates and Scarlett's closest friends. Even her mother reposts it.

Because I'm not a monster. Not really.

Nicola, Scarlett's mum, reaches out to me, worried that I have been deeply affected by the mess, she says something very sincerely that pierces me right through the heart. It does not damage me, but, rather, cleans something out; unclogs it.

'You grieve different.'

When Alexia texts me later, just as I am about to fall asleep, I let her words bring a smile to my face, drifting off with an expression that is sure to make my facial muscles ache in the morning. 

notes:

first of all, written quickly and not really proofread lol

second of all, when i tell you that i had to seek out all the lawyers i know to ask for their professional opinions on this stupid little defamation case... jesus christ. i literally should be given an honorary law degree. 

i think that i am also glad this was quite underwhelming because i don't think any of us would cope with the added tension of a hearing on top of the wc + fleur and alexia being stubborn little fuckers

anyhoo,  the next chapter should (fingers crossed) conclude the first half of the book. the second half is not as different as i'm about to make it seem, but there is maybe a cheeky pivotal moment (or am i just fucking with you? who knows!)

chapter title is from 'united in grief' by kendrick lamar because i love that song. so is the chapter called 'tell them your truth' and they're linked so it's a bit of a nerd moment from me. listen to the song!!!!

thanks for reading babes xx

p.s. pretty sure this so-called 'active era' has been brought on by me being fucking ILL. i'm quite pissed off about it