Inés delivered another killer blow, a grunt echoing around the stadium as she sent the ball blistering over the net. Liang barely managed to return it, standing firm on the baseline, while Inés pivoted to center court and unleashed a sharp two-handed backhand.
The pace of the match had been scorching. The first set point delivered to Inés in twenty minutes flat. The second had been considerably slower, Liang matching her pace.
Now, in the third set, I sat amidst the crowd, celebrating loudly with every point Inés scored. The energy around us was electric, the crowd ready to meet their tournament winner.
They rallied down the line, the ball gaining speed with every hit, until Liang drove it sharply to the right, forcing Inés off her mark. She stumbled to the other side of the court, dropping low and stretching to make the return. She was hardly upright by the time the ball was fired back at her, Liang rushing up to the net for the kill. Inés responded with a delicate lob, lofting the ball high and over her rival’s head.
The seconds seemed to stretch as Liang struggled to get to thebaseline, keeping her attention on the ball. I was sure she had no chance to make the return, that the point would go to Inés. I was almost out of my seat, ready to celebrate.
But then she delivered the perfect return, a fucking bullet straight down the sideline. Inés tried to react, but it was too fast and powerful, flying inches from the edge of her racket.
“Game, Liang,” the umpire announced.
“Fuck,” I swore, defeat ripping through my body, my eyes still glued to Inés as she reset, rolling her shoulders back. “She totally had her there.”
“They’re both playing really well,” Henrik said, his words pulling my attention to him. He’d wanted to join me in her family box to cheer on his former mixed doubles partner, and I had to admit, it was nice to see him again.
While our relationship had been over for a few months now, I had missed his friendship. He had been my first real ally in this world.
“Too well,” I murmured. “I’m worried that her wrist will suffer if this goes too long.”
The second set had already come down to a tiebreak as both players hung on for survival. Inés was keeping up her pace, but for how long?
“She knows how to handle that pain,” he reminded me as Inés took up a serving position. Four more points passed, Inés claiming three, while Liang had managed to snatch just one.
They were rallying down the middle of the court, Inés up 40–15 in a fight to level the set score. The energy of the stadium hadn’t died at all, if anything growing more charged and transfixed by the powerful athletes battling it out before us.
They continued their fight, exchanging backhand blows to the ball, firing it across and driving each other around the court, testing for weakness. Inés drove the ball high and crosscourt, the speed slowing slightly but the technicality growing.
On the return, Inés stretched out to reach the ball with her forehand, batting it over with a one-handed grip. But Liang was fast,intercepting the ball before it could bounce a second time and sending it around the net post.
She aimed her drop shot with perfect precision, and again she caught Inés out, almost dropping to her knees as she celebrated the win.
“Forty–thirty,” the umpire called, though the cheer of the crowd nearly drowned them out.
The look of frustration on Inés’s face was clear to see. She didn’t look up. She never did when she lost a point, but it was still so easy to make out.
“Hang on,” I whispered as if she could hear me. “Keep fighting. One more point.”
Another restart. Another rally. Another frustrating point lost.
“Deuce,” the umpire announced, my heart threatening to hammer itself out of my chest.
The game continued. A long fight, but worthwhile as the ball flew out of bounds, Inés securing another point.
“Advantage, Costa.”
They played again, and I could hardly breathe as they fired through the game, each holding on for survival, but when Inés called it wrong, and let a high ball fly over her, certain that it would land out of the court, only for it to land perfectly before the baseline, the stress was almost too much.
A few minutes later, Liang claimed the game.
“Game Liang. Liang leads five games to four.”
Inés was facing defeat. She had to claw back this match. If Liang won this next game, it would be over.
“I don’t think I can watch,” I said, my nerves getting the better of me.
Both players went for their short break, Inés sitting in her chair, slumped over, a towel covering her head. I felt helpless watching her.
