I stared at her latest post, Alex smiling at the camera, her racquet slung over her shoulder. It was clearly an endorsement shot, her sponsor’s logo in the corner, but the smile didn’t feel forced. It was reserved, sure, but something about it was effortlessly gorgeous. Like she wasn’t trying to impress anyone. Like she didn’t have to.
My heart did something stupid in my chest. I told it to behave.
Then came a gentle knock on my door.
I sat up, blinking. “Come in!”
The door creaked open just slightly, and one of the housekeepers peeked in with a kind smile. She stepped forward, balancing a small tray with a glass of milk and a plate of cookies.
“Miss Alex said to bring this to you,” she said, placing it down on the side table. “She said you’d know what it meant,” the woman added with a soft chuckle, then nodded politely before slipping back out into the hallway.
I stared at the tray. It was the same snack she gave me that first night. Quiet kindness with no strings attached.
I picked up one of the cookies and took a bite, shaking my head to myself.
“Of course you did this,” I murmured into the empty room, smiling despite myself.
But even with everything, I needed to rest, because after the graduation tomorrow, I’d be flying to Montreal to train. There was still work to do.
•••••
The ceremony was over, but I still felt like I was floating somewhere in it. The juniors had filed across the stage one by one, shaking hands with their coaches, clutching diplomas like tiny trophies for years of sweat and early mornings. There had been laughter, a few teary eyes,and the inevitable awkward hugs as friends tried to hold onto these last moments together.
My speech notes were folded into the back pocket of my journal, the words already starting to blur in my mind. I remembered the proud faces in the audience, the applause that had seemed endless, and the way the youngest kids had beamed at me when I told them to chase their dreams with everything they had. The guest room looked emptier than it actually was, quiet in contrast to the buzz of excitement that still lingered in the halls of the academy.
My suitcase was zipped up, standing upright like it was waiting for me to say goodbye first.
The dress from the graduation still hung on the back of the chair. I didn’t have the heart to put it away yet. I wasn’t really sure why. Maybe because it felt like proof that it all happened, that I stood up there, said the words, got through it without my voice shaking too much.
It was a good day. I hadn’t had many of those in a while.
And part of me didn’t want to leave.
Not just the place. Not just the academy. But this version of my life, the slower mornings, the quiet kindness from Amelia and Miguel, the juniors waving at me like I mattered, and that strange, tentative friendship with Alex that had somehow found its rhythm. This little pocket of time felt like something I’d been given without asking. A chance to come up for air.
I sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the suitcase. Montreal next. Back to the tour.
A soft knock, then the door cracked open.
“You ready?” Amelia asked, voice low, already in her jacket.
I nodded, standing. “Yeah. All packed.”
We walked out together. Miguel had the car running, the boot open. He gave me a quick smile and took my bag without a word.
At the airport, Amelia reached for a hug before I could even put my backpack down. It caught me off guard, and I let myself lean into it more than I expected.
“Thank you for everything, Olivia,” she said quietly.
I pulled back and nodded. “No, I should be the one thanking, honestly. Thanks. For everything. Really.”
I didn’t want to walk away just yet. But I did. My phone buzzed, Coach Dani, confirming the schedule.
I stared at the message a little longer than I needed to. A part of me was already there, in Montreal. The other part was still in that guest house, wondering how something could feel so temporary and still leave a mark.
I closed the message, tucked my phone away, and kept moving.
Back to work.
