Between the Flags.

Nobody's POV

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Isra was halfway through pouring the hot water into the mugs when she caught a comment from nearby, the voice far too close and far too pointed not to be directed at Leah.

“¿Por qué hay una persona inglesa aquí?”

"Why is there an English person here?"

She froze for half a second, spine tightening. The tone wasn’t curious — it was loaded. That kind of bitterness didn’t belong in a kitchen meant for tea and cake.

“Olga, no importa,” came another voice, familiar and calm. Alexia.

'Olga, that doesn't matter."

But somehow that only made it worse.

Isra gritted her teeth, eyes flicking to Leah, who was still cheerily talking to Codi and Mario near the counter, completely unaware. She returned her attention to the tea — or tried to — until Olga’s voice came again, quieter but sharp enough to cut.

“Ella no pertenece aquí.”

"She doesn't belong here."

And then Alexia’s voice, fast and clipped this time:
“Basta.”

"Enough."

Isra blinked, the words still curling in her ears, but what followed next really got her.

“Leí sobre ella. La chica dorada de Inglaterra. ¿La lesión del ligamento cruzado anterior? Trágica.”

"I read about her. England's golden girl. The ACL injury? Tragic."

The mockery was impossible to miss. Olga even let out a breathy little laugh like it was all a joke. Like Leah — Leah — was a punchline.

That was it.

Isra turned sharply, eyes zeroing in on the girl glaring towards them with all the intensity of a poorly hidden grudge. She met Olga’s stare without blinking.

“¿Cuál es tu problema?”

"Do you have a problem?"

Olga’s brows lifted, feigning surprise. “¿Yo? No tengo ninguno.”

"Me? I don't have any"

“Claro que sí,” Isra shot back, eyes flashing. “No te burles de las lesiones de los demás. Es muy triste.”

"Of course, don't make fun of other people's injuries, it's sad."

Olga pulled a face, unimpressed and unbothered.

Isra narrowed her eyes, raising her brows with an unamused tilt of her head. “Será mejor que tengas cuidado con lo que dices.”

"You better be careful what you say."

Olga stepped closer, folding her arms. “¿Es una amenaza?”

"Is that a threat?"

Isra’s smirk curled sharp, one side only.

“Maybe. Wanna find out?”

It wasn’t loud, but it was enough that Leah, now clearly noticing the shift in Isra’s posture, began walking over with furrowed brows.

From across the room, the older woman and her daughter — the ones Isra had met earlier — paused where they stood.

The older woman tilted her head, lips twitching with recognition. She nudged her daughter and murmured in Spanish with a soft hum of certainty: