CHAPTER 22
ALEXANDRA
Ever since I saw that picture of Olivia with that man at the Porsche dinner, it had been gnawing at me. Now, sitting on the plane on the way to China, that feeling hit again, sharp as a bruise I kept poking despite myself.
It shouldn’t have bothered me. It really shouldn’t have. But there was something about the way he stood so close to her, the way she laughed in a way I hadn’t seen. It made my chest tighten in a way I didn’t want to name.
Jealousy didn’t suit me. I knew that. I hated how it felt, petty, irrational and embarrassing. But knowing that didn’t stop the sting. Didn’t stop the thought, quiet and poisonous: Who the hell was he to make her smile like that?
I locked my phone, shoved it face-down on the tray table, and forced myself to exhale.
I hadn’t flown halfway across the world to obsess over a photograph. I was here for one reason.
Her final. Her championship match.
By the time we reached the stadium, the air buzzed with heat and noise. China did finals differently, lights brighter, crowds louder, everything amplified until it felt like standing inside a living storm.
I slipped into a seat tucked far enough from the cameras, cap pulled low. Just another face in the crowd, no box, no spotlight.
My eyes kept straying, not to the court, but to her box. Maddie was there, her coach Dani, a couple of her team and then him.
He sat comfortably leaning forward, clapping after every good point. I caught the easy smile he tossed Maddie, the way Olivia glanced up once and found him in the stands.
It burned, hot and stupid, somewhere deep in my gut. I told myself I was being ridiculous. And watching him in her box, in that seat, was like being benched from my own life.
And what kept twisting the knife was her words, echoing from weeks ago: I can’t afford distractions right now.
Right. No distractions. Not me. But him sitting front row? What the hell was that, then? Because if I’m a distraction, wasn’t he too? Or did the rules change when it wasn’t me?
By the second set, I wasn’t watching the score line as much as I was watching him. Laughing, cheering, living every point like it was his win too.
When Olivia closed it out in straight sets, the roar of the crowd nearly rattled my bones. She’d done it. And I should’ve been nothing but proud. But all I felt was hollow jealousy wrapped around pride so tight it choked.
The ceremony started, all glitter and confetti and camera flashes. Olivia stood at the center of it, flushed and brilliant under the lights, trophy gleaming in her hands. And then my gaze snagged on him.
He’s still in that smug VIP box seat, grinning like he’d known all along she’d win.
By the time Olivia finished her championship speech, the applause crashing around her, I couldn’t stand still anymore. I stepped into the aisle, just far enough to slip out quietly, before I did something pathetic like stare at Nico again.
I’d barely taken two steps when someone called my name.
“Alex?”
I turned, startled, and found Maddie standing at the aisle, half-smiling like she’d caught me red-handed.
“You’re not as invisible as you think.” She nodded toward the tunnel. “Come after. Congratulate her. She’ll want to see you.”
My throat went dry. A dozen answers spun in my head, none of them making it out. Maddie tilted her head, eyes narrowing slightly, like she already knew the storm brewing in me.
“She deserves you in her corner, Alex. Don’t let some picture mess that up.”
Before I could answer, she was already gone, weaving down toward the players’ lounge. And I was left standing in the noise, heart hammering, trying to decide if I had the courage or the right to show up.
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The players’ lounge hummed with post-match chaos, reporters waiting for quotes, staff buzzing around with towels and water bottles, camera flashes bleeding through every open door. I slipped past the crowd, head low.
And then I saw Olivia. Fresh from her win, sweat still slick at her temples, smile dazzling even under the harsh fluorescent lights. And right beside her, Nico holding a bouquet of white roses.
He leaned in close, saying something that made her laugh, and for a moment I froze at the doorway, every insecurity I’d been trying to bury clawing up my throat.
“Alex?” Her eyes landed on me, surprise flashing across her face. The laughter faltered, replaced by something softer, something unreadable.
Nico followed her gaze, turning to glance at me with that easy, camera-ready grin. “Ah, you’re Alex,” he said, voice smooth, offering his hand like we were meeting at some gala instead of her post-match warzone. “I’ve heard plenty.”
I didn’t take it. Olivia’s eyes had shifted, not to the roses, not to him, but to me. To the ugly scabs across my knuckles, the fresh scratch on my cheekbone, the angry red marks up my forearm from a crash. I’d tried to cover them under sleeves, under shadows, but she saw through it in an instant.
Her whole expression shifted. She stepped closer, so close I felt the warmth of her despite the cold evening air. Her eyes swept over every mark like she was cataloguing them, building a picture she didn’t like.
“Alex…” Her voice cracked nearly imperceptibly on my name. “What happened to you?”
Before I could answer, Maddie (bless her timing) slid into the frame, flashing a diplomatic smile. “Hey, Nico, why don’t you come with me? We’ll give them a sec.” She didn’t wait for an argument, just ushered him away, roses and all, leaving the room suddenly quiet.
Now it was just Olivia and me.
I tried for nonchalance, tugging the cuff of my jacket higher over my arm. “It’s nothing. Just a crash on the bike. Happens all the time.”
“Nothing?” Her eyes flicked from my cheek to my hand, disbelief written all over her face. “Alex, you’ve got scratches everywhere. That’s not ‘nothing.’”
I shrugged, forcing out a laugh I didn’t feel. “It was just me being stupid.”
But her frown only deepened, lips pressed thin. “Don’t joke about it. You scared me.”
That should’ve soothed me, but it didn’t. It twisted in my chest like a knife, each breath tasting of words I’d been holding back too long.
“Liv… what are we even doing?” I said, voice low, almost shaking but with all the hurt I’d tried to bury.
Her eyes flickered, uncertain, soft. “What do you mean?”
I swallowed hard, trying to make the words steady, clear.
“This.” I gestured between us, the tension of her hand hovering near my arm, the way she looked at me when she didn’t think anyone was watching.
“I told you how I felt. That night. I didn’t hide it.
I said it plain. And you… you said you couldn’t afford distractions. ”
“I didn’t—” she began, but I shook my head gently, stopping her.
“Yeah. You did. And I tried to respect it. Tried to pull back. Tried to pretend I could just… be your friend. But then you look at me like this, like I matter, and then Nico shows up, and I’m supposed to believe he’s not a distraction?
” My voice cracked a little, but I pressed on, forcing it out. “So tell me, Liv… was it ever just me?”
Her breath caught, voice soft, careful, trembling even. “Alex… it’s not that simple.”
I took a step closer, heart hammering in my chest. “It could be simple. I could be simple. I could tell you right now that I—” I choked on the words, swallowed the confession that had lived in my chest for years. “…that I still care. That I’ve always cared. That I—”
I stopped myself. The truth hung there between us, fragile and burning. If she was happy with Nico, I couldn’t take it. I couldn’t watch. I couldn’t be the one to hurt her by staying too close, by hoping for what might never be.
I stepped back, the confession unspoken but heavy in the air. “Maybe… maybe we need to stop pretending this friendship is enough,” I said quietly, each word a knife wrapped in velvet.
“I’m sorry if I’ve ever made things weird for you, or put you in a position you didn’t want to be in. I… I never wanted that.” I added, my voice catching.
Olivia’s lips parted, like she was about to say something, her brows knitting in that soft, panicked way she always did when she thought she might’ve hurt someone.
“I—” Olivia’s voice trembled, fragile.
I stepped closer, softly taking her hand, not to stop her but to guide her. “Shh,” I whispered, my thumb brushing against her knuckles. “You don’t need to explain.”
I led her gently toward where Maddie and her team were waiting, near the VIP section. “You just won, go celebrate. Be with the people who’ve been there for you, the people who matter tonight.” I said, my voice low, careful.
Her eyes searched mine, desperate, unsure, like she wanted to argue, wanted to beg me to stay. But I shook my head slowly, a sad smile tugging at my lips, tinged with both longing and tenderness. “I’ll step back,” I said quietly. “Your happiness matters more than me being here.”
I released her hand, and gave her a small, sad smile, letting the weight of it settle between us. No words. No promises. Just that quiet, heavy pause where everything unsaid lived.
Her coach stepped in, ushering her fully into the circle, hands on her shoulders, urging her to celebrate. Laughter and cheers erupted, and they pulled Olivia toward them, trying to engulf her in the victory she’d earned.
She glanced back at me, her smile small and wistful, eyes shadowed with regret. I just returned the smile, soft and quiet, letting her know it was okay.
Then, finally, I walked away.