Her mouth pressed into a thin line. “You don’t get to act noble about this. You don’t get points for staying away while I was twisting myself in knots. If you really wanted to fix it, Alex, you would’ve found a way.”
Her words were sharp, and I couldn’t argue. They came straight from the wound I’d carved into her.
“I was scared,” I admitted, my voice raw. “Not just of making it worse.”
Her laugh came, short and bitter. “Congratulations, Alex. You ruined it anyway.”
The words burned, but I knew I deserved them. “I know,” I whispered, forcing myself to hold her gaze. “I hurt you because I kept everything locked up. I never told you how much I needed you, how much I hated myself for freezing up instead of fighting for you. I thought silence would protect you from me, but it only made you bleed more.”
I swallowed hard, stepping closer, careful like she might shatter if I pushed too far. “I don’t want points, Liv. I don’t want forgiveness I haven’t earned. I just want one chance to do this right. No hiding, no excuses, no shutting you out. Just the truth.”
She exhaled sharply, looking away at the city lights, but I caught the flicker in her eyes before she turned. “God, you really don’t make it easy, do you?”
I let the words sink, then spoke again. “Liv… I know I’m the one who cracked this open. I know I made you feel like you didn’t matter when the truth is you’re the only one who ever did. And if holding on to me just keeps reopening the wound, I will do whatever it takes so you don’t have to bleed because of me. Not because I want to, but because you deserve to breathe without my damage crushing you.”
For a moment, she stood stiff, her arms folded like armor. But then something in her face shifted, softening just enough to make my heart lurch.
“I forgive you,” she said. “But don’t mistake that for trust. What we had… it has a hole in it now, Alex. A massive one.”
Her eyes shimmered, steady even as her voice cracked. “You broke something. And even if I wanted to, I can’t just snap my fingers and pretend it never happened. That’s not how this works.”
She forgave me, but it came wrapped in barbed wire.
Olivia drew herself up, swiping quickly at the corner of her eye before the tears could fall. When she spoke again, her tone had settled into something steadier. “Tonight isn’t the night for this. I’ve bled enough in front of people. I’m not giving them any more of a show.”
She moved past me then, back toward the door, heels clicking against the stone.
And then she slipped inside, leaving me on the balcony with only the night air and the faint echo of what I’d almost lost for good.
CHAPTER 32
ALEXANDRA
After the sponsorship dinner, I let myself hope that something between us had shifted. That maybe Olivia would unblock me, even in the smallest, quietest way. But nothing came. Every channel was still sealed shut, every line still a wall. I told myself to accept it for now, to sit with the distance, even as it burned. When the time came, I’d earn her trust again, if not as more, then at least as a friend.
But that was a problem for later. The Olympics were too close now. No longer a distant dream dangling in front of me, they were real. I’d sealed my qualification through months of brutal consistency, early mornings, controlled races, finishing strong when my body begged me not to. Olympics was calling, and I had to answer with every shred of focus I had.
I still spoke with my therapist from time to time, less than before, but enough to steady me when the nerves clawed up my chest. I was doing better but the anxiety still lingered. This was the Olympics. Everyone was counting on me, and the pressure pressed harder than any race clock.
On the plane bound for France, I sat among the Philippine delegation, the boxers, both men and women, filled rows with their booming laughter. The gymnasts, some Manila-born and others Fil-Am, whispered in burstsof Taglish that even I could follow. Around us were athletes from every corner of Philippine sport, each delegation carrying the same quiet weight of expectation, different disciplines, one flag.
The moment I boarded, it felt like eyes slowly found me. Some approached shyly, others with open excitement, telling me they’d watched my races and matches, that they were proud to finally meet me. A few asked if I spoke Tagalog, and I answered in a messy mix that made them laugh.
The Olympic Village was exactly what I’d imagined: a city of its own, flags snapping in the wind, athletes moving with the effortless purpose only Olympians carry. The buses dropped us at our building, a modern high-rise housing hundreds of competitors, each floor marked with our delegation’s colors.
I had no roommate, just a single room. The rooms were compact but functional. Security was tight but unobtrusive, letting athletes move freely while keeping the village safe.
The first thought as I set down my bag was Olivia. Had she arrived here in the village with her team? Was she preparing for her event? My chest tightened, but I shoved it down.
Dad showed up, clipboard brain in a polo shirt and a cap. “Your schedule’s locked,” he said. “Practice blocks tomorrow morning, time trial two days after. You’ll get your timetable on the app, but I figured you’d forget to check it.”
I snorted. “Wow, thanks for the confidence. Good to know my Olympic journey depends on your ability to micromanage.”
He didn’t rise to the bait, which meant he had more updates. “Archer’s also here now. Just checked in with their Village.”
I raised a brow. “He’s not holing up in a five-star hotel with blackout curtains and soundproof walls? That man practically invented the word ‘control freak.’”
“Said he wanted to feel the Olympic spirit. Community. Atmosphere. All of it.” Dad’s mouth curved in that sly way he gets when he knows more than me.
