The words made something twist deep inside me. For a second, the mask slipped, and I almost let myself break right there on the line.
“Bee…” I swallowed hard, forcing steadiness I didn’t feel. “It’s not about anything. I’m fine. Really. I just need to focus.”
Silence hummed on the line. Then Bianca exhaled, and I could hear the disbelief tucked under her voice. “Liv. You can say that to me, but you forget, I know you. Better than anyone. You’re hurting, and it’s her.”
My grip tightened around the phone until my knuckles went white. “I said I’m fine.” The words came out sharp, harsher than I meant, as if volume could make them true.
“You can keep swinging at the ball until your arms fall off, but that won’t change what’s inside your chest.”
I pressed a hand to my forehead, blinking against the sting in my eyes.
The line went dead, and for a moment, I just stared at the black screen of my phone. My reflection in it looked like a stranger, eyes flat, jaw clenched, like I was holding myself together with tape that kept peeling at the edges.
I tossed the phone in my bag and went straight for the shower.
The water came down scalding, a punishing heat, but it wasn’t enough to burn out the ache in my chest.
I tried to swallow it down, bury it like I’d been burying everything on court. But alone, with the spray drowning out the world, the cracks gave way.
I sank to the floor of the shower, water beating down as if it could wash any of this away. But it couldn’t. It only made the hollow in me feel deeper.
I hated it, hated feeling this weak, hated that even now, even after everything, she had this hold on me.
But the truth was undeniable. No amount of training, no ruthless mask… none of it erased her.
And so I cried, quietly, letting the water carry what I couldn’t admit to anyone.
•••••
The weeks had blurred into a rhythm I barely recognized. Different cities, different courts, same result, win after win stacked beside my name, the score lines ruthless enough that commentators started calling me thenew Olivia Smythe, unsure whether to admire it or fear it. On court, I didn’t give anything away: no theatrics, no apologies, just efficiency sharpened to a point.
Somewhere between the heartbreak and the silence, something had lit inside me, and I hated how effective it was. I even caught myself thinking, half-bitter, half-amused, that maybe this was what it took to unlock another level.
And now, here I was, weeks later, navigating a completely different kind of arena. A dinner party invite from a brand event in Germany, they want to bring together all their sponsored athletes across every sport imaginable. The kind of thing that felt less like opportunity and more like duty. Maddie and I had little choice but to go.
Now, standing in the lobby, the low hum of chatter around us, I tugged Maddie’s sleeve. “I hate this already,” I muttered, scanning the crowd.
She smirked. “Welcome to the glamorous world of being a sponsored athlete. Smile, nod, don’t trip over your own feet, and we’re golden.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, right. Panels, handshakes, corporate photos. My favorite.”
Maddie nudged me with her elbow. “Look, it’s just one night. Play the game. Focus on the brand stuff, you do your thing, I’ll cover the rest.”
I let out a slow breath, straightened my shoulders, and followed her further into the venue. I reminded myself: whatever happened here, whoever might be in the crowd, this night was about appearances. Nothing more.
I drifted toward a small group of U.S. swimmers, exchanging polite banter about off-season routines, training quirks, and upcoming meets. For a moment, it felt almost normal, almost easy until movement at the edge of my vision caught me off guard.
Alex, moving through the crowd alongside a few triathletes, the kind of tailored, feminine suit that seemed designed to make you forget air existed. Every line of her frame caught the light, every movement precise. Our eyesmet across the room, and for a heartbeat, the world narrowed to just us. My stomach flipped.
So I turned, forcing my attention back to the U.S. swimmers, I leaned slightly toward one of the guys, teasing lightly, letting the flirtation spill out just enough that I could feel Alex’s gaze on me.
And oh, she was watching. I could feel the intensity, that quiet, hungry pull from her across the room. The yearning in her eyes mirrored my own, the same ache I’d tried so hard to ignore. Every joke I let slip, every deliberate lean, every smirk was a battle: against the desire to run to her, to touch her, to erase the distance between us.
And yet, I stayed. I played the game, but inside, it was chaos. Her presence, her look, her energy was intoxicating and dangerous, and I was desperately trying not to crash into it headfirst.
I kept talking to the swimmers, words flowing without really hearing them, when a familiar voice sliced through the noise like a blade.
“Hi, everyone.”
