It already does.
Alejandra nodded anyway, mostly to end the conversation.
Outside, her parents and Carlos were waiting.
The second she stepped out, her mother’s voice wrapped around her. “So, how did it go? Happy to be without the sling?”
Her fingers brushed gently against Alejandra’s bare shoulder.
Alejandra resisted the urge to flinch. Because she still felt it. The pressure. The tightness. Like the sling was still there, just invisible now. Wrapped around her, holding her back, refusing to let go.
She nodded, forcing a smile into place. “Yeah. I have a training schedule for you, Carlos. Some physio stuff too.”
Keep it normal. Keep it easy. Keep moving.The goal was not to worry them. She was their main income, the reason they could afford to retire early and live a life on the road. If she didn’t recover from it, she wasn’t going to just fuck herself up, she was going to fuck them up too. And that, she couldn’t allow it.
“Are you sure you’re okay, cielo?” her dad asked, brushing a strand of hair from her face. His thumb lingered against her cheek.
Another smile. Tighter this time. Her jaw ached from holding it together.
“Yeah. Sure, Papá. I’m fine. Everything will be fine.”
Say it enough times and maybe it becomes true.
But it didn’t feel fine. Not even close. It felt like the sling coming off hadn’t solved anything. Like the real injury was still buried deep, under layers she couldn’t reach. Like something inside her had shifted permanently, and no amount of physio or training schedules could fix it.
Everything ahead felt like a steep, endless climb.
And she was already breathless after ten meters.
And sometimes, when the panic hit just right, she was back there. Under Pipeline. The silence of water pressing down on her. The weightlessness that wasn’t freedom but helplessness. Her shoulder slamming against the reef. The disorientation. The violent pull of the current. The moment she didn’t know which way was up. The moment she thought—this is it.The silence of almost drowning louder than anything she’d ever heard.
How could she explain that to them?
How could she put that into words without sounding insane? Weak? Broken?
How could she say that her greatest love—the ocean—had almost killed her and that she didn’t know if she could ever trust it again?
If I go back, will it happen again?
What if I freeze?
What if I can’t move?
What if I’m not me anymore out there?
How do you rebuild something that tried to break you?
And worse, how do you admit that you don’t even know who you are without it?
34
CALLUM
High Hopes- Panic! At The Disco
Callum was finally—andhappily—sprawled on his couch, half-listening to the chaos around him. It was Board Night. Leif and Asma were there, along with Sebastian and Omar, two French rugby players they’d met years ago who had become regulars in their friend group whenever they weren’t off traveling internationally during the season.
“So, are you and Ale a thing or what?” Asma asked, her head resting on Omar’s shoulder, much to Leif’s very visible disgust.
