Jackson
Priya Sharma broke my heart on a Friday evening in my studio, and I’m not handling it well.
It’s been a week since she walked out. A week of radio silence, of seeing her in the anatomy lab and having her treat me like just another model assignment, of pretending I’m fine when I’m absolutely not.
Carter finds me in the gym at midnight, hitting a punching bag like it personally offended me.
“You’re going to hurt yourself,” he says.
“Good.”
“That’s not funny.” The captain's voice is there worried he will be a player down.
“I’m not joking.”
He sighs, leaning against the wall. “Want to talk about it?”
“No.”
“Too bad. You’re miserable, which means you’re distracted, which means you’re playing like shit, which means the team suffers. So we’re talking about it.”
I hit the bag harder. “She chose her mother over me. End of story.”
“Is it? Because from what I’ve heard, she’s equally miserable.”
“Then she should have made a different choice.” I say punching the bag harder.
“Maybe she’s scared.”
“Being scared isn’t an excuse.” I almost shout the words at him. I’m not sure who I’m angry with, him, her or myself.
“No, but it’s a reason.” Carter moves closer. “Look, I get it. You’re hurt. But Priya’s dealing with shit I can fully understand. Family pressure, expectations, the weight of disappointing people who’ve controlled her entire life.”
“So what, I’m just supposed to wait around hoping she’ll get brave?”
“No. You’re supposed to decide if she’s worth fighting for, and if she is, you fight. Even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard.”
“What if she doesn’t want me to fight for her?” Now I stop punching the bag and turn to face him.
“Then you’ll know. But at least you’ll have tried.” He leaves before I can say anything to him, and I’m left with the punching bag and my thoughts.
Is Priya worth fighting for?
Yes. Absolutely yes.
But how do I fight for someone who’s fighting against herself?