“She’s adjusting,” I said quietly, more to myself than to them.
By the time Alex was ahead 5–3 in the second set, the stadium was already sensing the finish. She walked to the baseline for her final service game, shoulders relaxed despite the tape, face pure focus.
The last rally was classic Alex, deep forehand, then stepping in to put away a volley. Her opponent’s ball sailed long. Game, set, match.
The crowd erupted, and Alex’s fist pump was sharp, almost restrained, like she was already thinking ahead. I sat back, a slow smile spreading across my face.
“Straight sets,” Maddie said, smug. “Told you.”
Claire smirked. “I’ll give her credit, she handled that shoulder like a pro. Kept her head the whole way.”
I didn’t say anything right away, still watching the screen as Alex shook hands at the net, then waved to the stands. Even through the TV, I could feel that energy, the mix of relief, pride, and just a hint of fire that made her...her.
As the broadcast cut to the trophy ceremony, Maddie hopped up to grab more snacks while Claire started dissecting the stats like the analyst she secretly was. I stayed on the couch, still holding my now-empty smoothie glass, letting the noise fade around me. She’d done it, a championship win in Cincinnati, just weeks after her comeback. The headlines were already writing themselves. I exhaled slowly, stretching my legs out, and thought about how close New York suddenly felt.
ALEXANDRA
The applause hit me in waves as I stepped forward, trophy in hand, the ceramic still warm from the sun. The crowd’s cheers blurred into a single roar, the kind that rattles in your chest.
The runner-up stood beside me, still smiling despite the sting, and we exchanged a quick handshake. She’d played fearless tennis, but I’d been here before. I’d knownwhen to hold back and when to hit through, even with my shoulder nagging in the background.
When the mic was passed to me, I kept it short, thanked the tournament staff, the ball kids, the fans, and my team. The usual.
Then came the press conference. Room packed, the air-conditioning was too cold, and every lens was trained on me like I was about to slip up.
“Alexandra, congratulations on the win. You were fantastic out there, and it’s your first tournament back after your injury. How does it feel, not only to make your comeback but to actually win it?”
I gave a controlled smile. “It feels surreal. A few months ago, I wasn’t even sure I’d be competing this season, let alone holding a trophy.”
“How’s the shoulder?” one of the reporters called out
I gave them the safe answer. “Just a little fatigue. We’ve been pushing hard, but my physio has been keeping it in check. I’ll be ready for the US Open.”
The next few questions were the usual and nothing I hadn’t heard a hundred times before. The standard post-final script.
Then one reporter cleared his throat, almost like he knew he was about to cause trouble.
“Some sources in the Philippine Olympic Committee have said that you’re being considered to represent the country in Triathlon at the Olympics next year. Have there been any discussions?”
My brain did a double-take. “I’m sorry, what?”
He repeated it, slower this time, like maybe I hadn’t heard him right.
“That’s the first I’ve heard of it,” I said, voice flat. “If that’s true, then I’d need to confirm it with my manager before saying anything else.”
Pens scratched faster. But then he pressed again. “But if the opportunity came and you had the time, would you go back to triathlon?”
I continued, still steady, “I’ve never made it a secret, and if I’m given the time to prepare properly, then yes, I’d compete again.”
The moderator tried to steer it back to tennis, but someone squeezed in one again. “Would representing the Philippines mean more to you than competing for another country?”
I tilted my head, keeping my voice calm but direct. “I’ve always represented the Philippines in triathlon, and I compete for Australia in tennis. I see it as a balance. I get that it’s unusual, but I grew up with both sports in my blood.”
Another reporter leaned forward. “So... you didn’t switch allegiance?”
The question landed sharper than it should’ve. I felt my jaw tense, just for a beat.
“There are no sides. This is just the first-time people are paying attention to both at once. Now…” I arched a brow, deadpan. “Can we go back to tennis?”
