Inés stood no chance.
“Game, set and match to Liang, 6–7, 6–7, 4–6.”
Liang crumpled to the floor, the celebration sweeping her off her feet.
Inés stood, shoulders slack, her chest rising and falling like she was holding back the weight of it all, racket lowered. She looked defeated, and then, in the blink of an eye, a soft curve touched her lips.
She crossed the court with purpose, meeting her opponent at the net. There, the curve shifted into something fuller, her arms open as they shared a tight hug, as if they hadn’t battled fiercely over every inch of that court.
And I realized, as I watched them walking along the net, talking and laughing like old friends as they shook the umpire’s hand, that this, this kindness, this grace, was what made Inés one of the best people I knew.
Liang finally turned, throwing her racket to the side as she soaked up the energy of the crowd, her fists raised high in triumph.
Inés didn’t try to interrupt. She simply tucked her belongings into her bag, her movements deliberate and slow, as though giving herself the space to breathe through the hurt.
Her gaze found mine across the stadium, steady despite the storm she must have been feeling. A small wave, a softer smile, brave, even now. But when her lips tightened at the corners, I saw it.Felt it. The weight of losing, the fight to make peace with it.
Something in my chest splintered.
I had spent so long running, avoiding, wasting time on everything except what mattered. But her? She had always been right here. Strong, kind, impossibly brave.Mine.
Girlfriend. The word settled in my ribs, warm and certain.
Before I knew it we were on to the interviews, a TV camera set up in the middle of the court as the interviewer launched into condolences over her loss. She kept taking it in her stride, kept her cool, kept the tears back as she answered each question with poise.
“And I wanted to ask,” the interviewer said, taking a breath. “I wanted to ask if you have any comment about what happened, just days ago with your competitor Chloe Murphy. I know you two have grown closer.”
I froze, feeling the crowd’s eyes turn to me. I wanted to shrink away, the residual fear the attack had left. But with my gaze on her, I stayed strong, listening as she answered.
“I think what happened was unacceptable. And the lies that were being spread, the way people talk about other people online is disgusting. We may be athletes, celebrities, whatever, but we are still human. Being in the public eye does not mean you are entitled to any piece of our private lives, and I hope that we learn from this awful event.”
Tears welled in my eyes at the pride surging in my heart. Watching her take defeat in her stride, still managing to celebrate and be proud of the success she had fought to earn, and still take the time to stand up for me, left me certain of one thing.
Maybe today hadn’t gone our way. But tomorrow was just arriving, and it was waiting for both of us.
52
Inés
August—MUNA
Asoft breeze rippled through Arthur Ashe Stadium, the inky night sky above, the stars washed out by the surrounding city lights. The court below lay silent, a tranquil pause before the men’s final tomorrow.
“This might be the most peaceful I’ve ever seen this place,” Chloe said beside me. After hours of media circus, we’d snuck back into the stadium. The peace and quiet feeling like a gift, the first moment I’d had that was only us.
I exhaled, the tension in my shoulders giving way. Leaning into her, I rested my head on her shoulder, letting my tiredness settle. “You’re probably right.”
Her hand lifted to my cheek, the touch gentle. “How are you feeling?”
“Is it bad if I say I’m actually okay?” I winced, but the words rang true.
The loss had stung for all of five seconds. Then something shifted, like everything I’d told myself over the last few days had sunk in.
Yes, I’d lost. But I’d finished second in a tournament I hadn’t even expected to make a dent in. After months of struggle, I’d broken through. How could I be upset about that?
Instead, I was excited for my friend, who’d deserved the win. I wasgrateful to have put up a good fight. I was in love with the girl in the stands, making her proud.
“I’m happy for her,” I said softly, as much to myself as to Chloe. “She deserved the win. And I’m... proud of myself for getting here.”
