Her hand brushed mine across the table. “I want that too. I’ll try harder this time. No more silence.”
I squeezed her fingers. “No more silence.”
For a beat, neither of us spoke. Then Bianca grinned, shy but cheeky. “Also, for the record, I still think your backhand down the line is unfair. Watching your matches makes me jealous in the best way.”
I groaned, rolling my eyes, but I couldn’t hide my smile. “You’re horrible.”
“Maybe. But I’m also proud,” she said firmly. “Proper proud.”
Something in my chest eased, like a knot I hadn’t realized I’d been carrying. “I’m proud of you too, you know. Beijing, the internship, you’re braver than you think.”
Her lips curved, soft and genuine. “Guess we’re both figuring things out.”
“Guess so,” I said, and this time the silence between us wasn’t heavy. It was comfortable. Like home finding its way back.
ALEXANDRA
Winning the Europe and Asian Triathlon Cup felt like breaking through a wall I’d been pounding against for years, because the morning after, I got a call from my favorite energy drink. The sponsor I’d always admired, the one built on pushing athletes past their limits and celebrating the impossible. It was huge. For me, it was everything.
Everything after that has been a blur of opportunity. My next races aren’t just any races, it’s The World Triathlon Championship Series. The big leagues. The points that matter most for Olympic qualification. I need toprove myself, and I’ll have to line up at every single Series race left before the Games. No skipping. If I can manage that, Olympics won’t just be a dream. It’ll be mine.
And as if that weren’t enough, the T100 Triathlon World Tour came calling too. They personally reached out, offering me a full hotshot contract I couldn’t refuse. They told me straight up that they thought I could spice things up for the middle-distance triathletes, shake the field a little.
It’s a massive leap for me. I’ve only ever raced short-course and Olympic distance, never anything beyond. It’s insane. And impossible to say no, so I didn’t.
Now every day feels like I’m balancing something huge. Training’s been relentless, but I’ve had good company, I’ve been adopted by the British team. It’s funny, we’ll all be lining up against each other soon, fighting for the same podiums. But in training, they’ve been nothing but generous.
I was getting ready for our last bike time trial, when the door creaked open. Dad leaned against the frame, arms folded like a brick wall. Not a good sign.
“You shouldn’t have taken that contract.” His tone was warm but concerned, but I heard the weight underneath.
“Morning to you too, Dad.” I kept tightening the strap, refusing to flinch.
“I’m serious, Alex. Middle distance isn’t some side project. It’s brutal. It’s double the stress on your body. And your priority..” he jabbed a finger at me, “should be the World Championships. That’s your shot at the Olympics.”
I finally looked at him, raising a brow. “It’s the T100. It’s the biggest stage for middle distance. You think I’d just say no to that?”
“You should have,” he ran a hand down his face. “You’ve only just proven yourself again in short course. Now you want to leap into something you’ve never raced before, and risk burning out?”
I stood up, helmet in hand. “Or I could rise to it. I could handle both. I’m not going to choose one just because it’s safer.”
His jaw worked, searching for the right words, but I knew him well enough to see the surrender coming. “If I can’t convince you to drop it, then fine. But hear me, the World Championships come first. That’s your Olympic ticket. The T100… treat it as endurance training. Extra mileage. That’s all.”
A smile tugged at my mouth. I slipped the helmet on and clipped it shut. “Dad… sometimes playing it safe is the real risk. You raised me to go all in, didn’t you?”
His eyes narrowed, but I caught the flicker of pride he didn’t say out loud. “Go do your damn time trial before I change my mind.”
I grinned. “Gladly.”
•••••
The time trial didn’t exactly go to plan.
One second I was tucked in, legs firing, chasing every seconds, and the next I hit the curve too fast. I didn’t even see the rock lying there, perfectly placed to ruin my day. My front wheel clipped it, and the bike jolted. The road rushed up sideways, and before I could blink, I was skidding across the tarmac, scraping skin, until bam. My shoulder slammed into the concrete barrier.
Silence. Just the sound of my own ragged breath and the hiss of my bike sliding to a stop a few feet away.
Dad was there in seconds, kneeling beside me. His hand hovered uselessly, torn between holding me still andwanting to scoop me up. “Alex don’t move. The medic is coming.”
