It was chaos, broadcasters yelling, microphones shoved in my face, but then I saw my family. Past the barricades, pressed up against the sideline.
The world shrank in an instant. Olivia looked… relieved. Like she’d been holding her breath through the entire race.
I didn’t even think, I broke through the sideline, ignoring the officials yelling, and went straight for them. Mom hugged me first, Dad clapping my back so hard it rattled my ribs, Archer yelling something about “Olympic medal looks good on you!”
But when it was her turn, I leaned in, still out of breath, flag slipping off my shoulders, lungs burning from more than just the race. “Hi,” I rasped, voice rough with exhaustion and nerves.
Her smile hit me harder than any finish line ever could. For a second, the noise blurred into nothing, like the world had gone quiet just to give me this moment.
I drew in a shaky breath, lips quirking into a grin. “So… who’s this gorgeous girl in the stands who keeps looking at me like I might actually be worth something? Think I should maybe introduce myself.”
Her brows arched, amused, the corner of her mouth lifting, but she let me keep going.
I straightened, tried for mock formality, and held out my hand. “Alexandra Cadiz. Triathlon. Olympic silver medalist. And if I get this right, maybe the girl who doesn’t mess it up this time.”
Her lips twitched, fighting a smile, and then she leaned in, her voice velvet-soft but sharp enough to make me shiver. “Olivia Smythe. Tennis. Four-time Grand Slam Champion.”
Her hand slid into mine, steady and lingering. She gave the faintest squeeze before adding, low enough only I could hear, “And maybe interested in seeing if silver-medal girl really means it this time.”
I let out a breathless laugh, holding her hand tighter. “Oh, I mean it. Consider this my proper start.”
Her eyes glittered with mischief, but her smile softened, too. “Then prove it. Because a cute introduction alone won’t win me over.”
For the first time, it felt like a new beginning.
Maddie appeared at her shoulder, all grins. “Congrats, Alex. Silver at your first Olympics, that’s massive.” Then, turning to Olivia: “But sorry to take your moment together, we’ve got to run. She’s got a match this afternoon.”
Olivia gave me one last look, like she knew exactly what she was leaving me with.
“Good luck,” I said, letting my grin slip crooked, easy. “I’ll be watching.”
She tilted her chin, eyes gleaming. And just like that, she was gone, swept away in the tide of her team, while I was still standing there, heart ten times heavier in my chest.
OLIVIA
I had a match later that day, R16, no less and I should have been conserving energy, staying locked into my routine. But that morning, I couldn’t sit still. Cassandra’s words in the cafeteria had slapped something out of me, stripping every excuse bare. She’d been right.
So before breakfast, I’d grabbed Maddie’s wrist and said, “Come on. We’re going to the race.”
She’d looked at me like I’d lost it. Maybe I had. But something in me had refused to miss it. Call it stupidity, call it weakness, call it whatever you want. Alex Cadiz still had a hold on me.
The venue was chaos, but weaving through it, I found her family. Amelia smiled the moment she saw me, warm in a way that made me ache. She pulled me aside quietly.
“Olivia… it means the world to Alex that you’re here. Seeing you here, when you didn’t have to be…” Amelia’s hand brushed mine, gentle. “Whatever you decide, Liv, whether you let her back in, or not just make sure it’s your choice. Do what feels right. Follow your heart.”
The words stuck with me long after the race, through Alex’s silver finish. I found her in the swirl of cameras andsweat still drying on her skin. Somehow, even in the madness, her eyes found mine.
And before I knew, Maddie’s hand dragged me back toward training.
The hours after blurred together. Warm up drills, physio work, quiet stretches where my mind was supposed to be on patterns and footwork but kept drifting anyway. The morning bled into afternoon, and by the time I finally walked onto the courts for my match, there she was.
Still in full PH team kit. Sweats on, jacket zipped high, her silver medal clanging softly against her chest with every movement. And of course, Bobby was at her side, helping her hold up a banner so ridiculous I nearly dropped my bag right there on the baseline.
With two giant bagels doodled on either side of the words, like Alex had spent way too much effort on arts and crafts instead of basking in her Olympic medal.
I covered my mouth, half to hide my laugh, half to stop the heat rushing to my cheeks. Instead of celebrating, she was here, holding up nonsense for the world to see, making a fool of herself for me.
And the stupid thing was, it worked.
