Something About You

"Aaron Bekker"

Aaron Bekker was the embodiment of a football star, a Grade A player whose presence on the field demanded attention. His reputation as one of the top players in the league was unmatched, with a market value that soared above the rest. Fans flocked to the stadium just to catch a glimpse of him in action, and his name was synonymous with excellence.

Standing tall and athletic, Aaron carried himself with an air of confidence that was hard to ignore. His striking hunter eyes, sharp and intense, seemed to scan the pitch even when he was off it, always assessing, always focused. Those eyes held a fierce determination, reflecting not just his commitment to the game but also a deeper ambition that drove him to be the best.

Among his many skills, it was his free-kick prowess that set him apart from the competition. Known for his lethal accuracy and power, Aaron could bend the ball like no other, striking fear into the hearts of opposing goalkeepers. Each time he stood over a free-kick, the atmosphere shifted; teammates held their breath, while fans eagerly awaited the moment of magic. His ability to turn seemingly impossible situations into goal-scoring opportunities made him a prized asset for the club.

Despite his accolades and status, there was a complexity to Aaron. Behind the charm and the talent lay a fierce competitive spirit and a relentless drive to prove himself, both to his team and to the world. This duality—his external confidence and internal struggles—made him an enigmatic figure, one that even the most seasoned professionals found difficult to understand.

The training ground was alive with energy as the team prepared for their upcoming match against a fierce rival. The vast green field stretched endlessly, with crisp white lines marking the boundaries and goalposts gleaming in the late afternoon sun. The players moved like a well-oiled machine, the sound of their boots pounding against the grass, accompanied by the occasional sharp whistle from the coach. Balls were being kicked with precision, launching high into the sky before landing perfectly into waiting feet or the back of the net.

Layla stood at the sidelines, taking it all in. The sheer scale of the pitch felt overwhelming, much larger than the training fields she had been used to. From here, she could see the entire expanse of the stadium that loomed beyond, casting a shadow over the field. Despite the noise and bustle, her gaze remained fixed on Aaron Bekker, who was at the heart of the action. His movements were swift, calculated—years of experience showing with every step. Layla watched him closely, not just as a fan of the game, but as the physiotherapist now responsible for the well-being of these athletes.

She couldn’t help but notice how everything seemed to revolve around Aaron, how even from the sidelines, he commanded attention. Her mind wandered, imagining the weight of expectations he must carry every day, the pressure of living up to his star status. Layla’s thoughts began to drift, her focus on Aaron’s striking features and his quiet yet powerful presence. His hazel eyes, sharp and unyielding, seemed to hold an entire world of unspoken thoughts.

Then suddenly, Layla snapped out of her reverie when she heard someone call her name. She blinked, realizing she had been staring too long at the field, lost in thought.

"Layla! Over here!" The voice belonged to Sarah, one of the senior physiotherapists. She waved, her expression serious as Layla quickly collected herself.

"Come on, Aaron's in the medical room. Minor injury. We’ll need you."

The words hit Layla like a punch. Aaron Bekker? Already? Layla swallowed hard, trying to calm her nerves. This wasn’t the time to panic. She was a professional, and she’d been trained for moments like this. But still, the thought of being face-to-face with the club's star player made her stomach twist with unease.

As they reached the medical room, Sarah gave her a quick rundown. “You’ll be handling the initial assessment. Don’t worry, I’ll be right here if you need anything.”

Layla nodded, though she felt far from confident. She stepped inside, and there he was—Aaron, sitting on the edge of the medical table, his posture slouched and his expression unreadable. His usual energy seemed dulled, his eyes cast downward, lost in thought.

"Hey," her senior greeted him, "Layla’s going to take a look at you."

Aaron barely looked up, giving a faint nod. His silence unnerved her, and Layla felt a flicker of fear. Was he in pain, or was something else weighing on him? She gathered her courage and stepped closer, her hands trembling slightly as she reached for her medical kit.

Layla reached for a clean towel from the nearby shelf, her movements careful as she approached Aaron. He had taken a blow to the face during training—a stray ball hitting him just under the nose, leaving a trickle of blood. Aaron still hadn’t said much, his silence continuing to weigh on her, but he didn’t resist when she gently placed the towel under his nose to clean the blood.

“Hold still,” she said quietly, her voice soft yet professional.

Aaron finally looked at her, his eyes meeting hers for the first time. There was a flicker of something in his gaze—maybe frustration, or exhaustion—but he remained still as she carefully dabbed at the blood. Layla could feel her pulse quicken under his intense stare, but she forced herself to focus on the task at hand.

The cut wasn’t deep, just a small scrape from the impact, but she could see the tension in Aaron’s jaw, as if he was holding back more than just physical discomfort. Her hands were steady now as she worked, the medical training taking over her initial nerves. She pressed the towel gently against his nose, her touch light, trying not to cause him any further pain.

“Does it hurt?” she asked, almost as a reflex.

Aaron shook his head slightly, still not saying much. His silence made her uneasy, but she could sense that whatever was bothering him wasn’t just about the injury. Layla took a small breath, clearing her throat before stepping back, giving him space.

“There, you’re all set,” she said, trying to sound upbeat. But inside, she wondered what was really going on behind his distant expression.

After several tense minutes, Layla finally completed her treatment for Aaron. She provided him with clear instructions about his rehabilitation exercises and recovery. Just as she was about to elaborate further, Aaron rose from the treatment table, his expression still serious. He murmured a quiet “thank you” before striding out of the room, his footsteps echoing in the hallway.

Layla watched him leave, feeling a mixture of relief and disappointment. There was no smile, no further engagement—just the lingering impression of a player lost in his thoughts, as if the weight of expectations sat heavily on his shoulders. She sighed, trying to shake off the unease that had settled in her stomach.

Just then, the door opened, and Sarah, another physiotherapist, stepped inside with an easy smile. “How did it go?” she asked, her tone light and welcoming. “First time treating a star player, huh?”

Layla nodded, attempting to muster a smile in return. “Yeah, he… seemed a bit withdrawn, didn’t he?”

“Oh, that’s Aaron for you,” Sarah replied, chuckling softly. “He’s known for being a bit quiet. But trust me, he’s a good guy. It’s just how he copes with the pressure. You’ll get used to it.”

“Really?” Layla asked, intrigued. “He’s so talented, yet he seemed almost… distant.”

“That’s the thing about high-profile athletes,” Sarah said, leaning against the wall, crossing her arms. “They’re constantly in the spotlight, which can be isolating. I’ve seen players who look invincible on the pitch but struggle off it. It takes a toll.”

Layla frowned. “I can imagine. It must be hard for them to find someone they can trust, especially with all the scrutiny.”

“Exactly! That’s why we’re here. It’s not just about physical recovery; it’s about emotional support too. They need someone to listen, to help them process everything. You might find that’s where you can really make a difference.”

“What do you mean?” Layla asked, her curiosity piqued.

Sarah smiled knowingly. “Take Aaron, for example. He might not open up right away, and that’s okay. Sometimes he can be very closed off. But with time, he could come to rely on you. You just have to be patient.”

“I guess I’ve always thought of physiotherapy as purely physical work,” Layla said, a hint of worry in her voice. “But if emotional well-being is part of it too, I need to be prepared for that.”

“Absolutely!” Sarah nodded vigorously. “And it’s not just Aaron. All the players are different. Some are open books; others are more guarded. You’ll learn to read them, trust me. I remember when I first started, I was terrified of making things worse, but it gets easier.”

“What was your experience with Aaron like?” Layla asked, eager to learn more.

“Ah, Aaron,” Sarah said with a chuckle. “When I first worked with him, he was recovering from a tough injury. He was frustrated and quiet, but I never got him to talk about his feelings. He was just so focused on getting back on the pitch. He needs to feel like he’s in control.”

“That must have been frustrating for you,” Layla noted.

“It was,” Sarah admitted. “But I learned not to push. Instead, I focused on the treatment and let him come to me when he was ready. He might take time to warm up to you, but don’t take it personally. It’s just his way.”

Layla nodded, absorbing the advice. “So, it’s about building trust without forcing it?”

“Exactly,” Sarah confirmed. “And it’s important to create a safe space for him. Just being there, showing that you care, can make a huge difference. If he needs to vent or talk, let him know you’re available.”

As they continued to chat, Layla felt her initial nerves dissipating slightly. They discussed various players, shared more stories, and Sarah offered practical tips on how to navigate the dynamics of the team. Yet, despite the camaraderie, Layla couldn’t shake the feeling that getting through to Aaron would be a challenge.

“What if he never opens up?” Layla asked, her concern creeping back in.

“That’s always a possibility,” Sarah said thoughtfully. “But don’t lose hope. Sometimes it just takes the right moment, or the right approach. And remember, he’s not the only player you’ll be working with. Each one will have their own story.”

With that, Layla felt a mix of determination and uncertainty. She was ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead—starting with Aaron. But deep down, she worried about the walls he had built around himself and whether she would ever find a way to break through.