I wasn’t murdering bottles anymore. At least not every session. My serve still had bite, but it wasn’t wild rage anymore, it was controlled, focused, and for once, it felt like mine again.
Alex and I hadn’t spoken since the pool. Not a word, not a text. Sometimes I thought about breaking the silence, but then my thumb would freeze above her name, and I’d lock my phone instead. Safer that way. Cleaner. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself.
CHAPTER 20
OLIVIA
Beijing had been a blur of flashing cameras, polite bows, and endless questions. Press conferences, sponsor shoots, practice blocks squeezed between hotel ballrooms and media suites, it all blended together until I couldn’t tell which smile was real anymore.
What I didn’t expect is Bianca.
She was standing outside the training center one late afternoon, clutching the strap of an oversized tote bag like it was a lifeline. Her eyes darted nervously as though she wasn’t sure if she should even be there.
My racquet nearly slipped from my hand. “What… what are you doing here?”
She gave a small, uncertain smile. “I got an internship. Two months. They… flew me out yesterday.” She shifted her weight, glancing at me and then at the ground. “I thought I should tell you in person.”
I forced a smile, but it came out stiff. The silence between us back in Berkshire still sat heavy in my chest. Surprise or not, I wasn’t ready to laugh it off.
Later, over steaming bowls of noodles in a tucked-away shop, the awkwardness sat between us like a third chair. Bianca stirred her noodles, watching the steam curl. “My flat’s tiny,” she said, almost nervously. “Three of us shareit. But the girls are nice. I can walk to the office in fifteen minutes. It’s busy, but I like it.”
I nodded, polite. “That’s good.”
More silence. The kind that made the clinking of chopsticks from the next table sound like thunder.
Finally, I set mine down. “Why are you really here, Bianca? Just to tell me you’ve moved to Beijing, or… because you felt guilty?”
Her eyes flicked up, startled. “Maybe both,” she admitted. “I didn’t like how we left things. And I didn’t like… how I made you feel.”
Heat rose in my chest. “You made me feel like tennis was this selfish obsession. Like I didn’t care about anyone else. Do you know how much that stung?”
Bianca winced. “And you made me feel like I didn’t matter. Like I was just… noise in the background.” She toyed with her napkin, twisting it into a rope. “I wasn’t trying to drag you down, Liv. I just… I didn’t know how to be proud of you when I felt left behind.”
Her honesty landed heavy. I stared at my broth, watching the oil shimmer on the surface.
“You could’ve said that,” I murmured. “Instead of...” My throat tightened. “Instead of making me feel like I was choosing tennis over family.”
She bit her lip. “I was jealous. Not of tennis, not exactly… just of how sure you seemed. You had a path and I didn’t. I hated that part of me, so I took it out on you.”
I looked at her then, properly. She wasn’t smug, or sharp, or any of the things I’d told myself she was. Just tired. Honest.
“I never wanted you to feel like you didn’t matter,” I said, softer now. “You’re my sister. That’s bigger than tennis. Always.”
She blinked fast, her eyes glassy. “And I don’t want to be the reason you feel guilty about chasing what you love. You’re… brilliant at this, Liv. You really are. I just needed time to catch up.”
My chest ached at that. “You don’t have to catch up. I don’t want this to be some race between us. You’re allowed to go at your own pace, Bee. I just… I wish you’d told me sooner, instead of shutting me out.”
Her lips pressed together. “I didn’t know how. Every time I tried, it came out wrong. And then you’d leave for another tournament, and I’d tell myself, ‘next time,’ but… there was never a next time.”
I nodded, swallowing past the lump in my throat. “I guess I didn’t exactly make it easy. I was so wrapped up in proving myself that I didn’t stop to see how much it was costing us.”
Bianca gave a small, crooked smile. “We’re a right pair, aren’t we? Both stubborn as hell, both terrible at saying what we really mean.”
That made me laugh, watery but real. “Mum always said we were too alike for our own good.”
“Maybe she was right.” Bianca’s smile softened, tentative but warm. “I don’t want us to keep being strangers, Liv. I miss just… being sisters. Watching rubbish TV together, fighting over crisps, laughing at Dad’s terrible jokes. I don’t want that to disappear.”
Something inside me loosened, like a knot finally untangling. “Then let’s not let it. Even if I’m travelling, even if you’re in Beijing, let’s just… try. Call, text, whatever. I don’t care if it’s about work or what you had for breakfast. I just want to know you’re there.”
