CHAPTER 31
OLIVIA
After what I saw with Alex and Cassandra, the charming, easy version of me the tour liked to smile at quietly disappeared. On the dew-slick grass before sunrise, I trained like it was the only thing keeping me upright and every racquet swing a decision to feel nothing.
I needed to lock in. I couldn’t afford heartbreak bleeding into my timing.
So I leaned into something colder, more exacting.
Pain dressed up as discipline. What I was really doing was turning hurt into something usable, until the only place it was allowed to exist was strung tight across my racquet.
Practice wrapped, and I was already reaching for my bag when Maddie stepped in front of me.
“Liv,” she said, low enough that the others couldn’t hear. “You can’t keep pretending this is just about tennis.”
“I’m fine. Just locked in.”
She shook her head. “No, you’re not. You’re hurting, and you’re using training to bleed it out. But you’re not a machine.”
I straightened, forcing the cool mask back on. “I don’t have the luxury of feelings right now.”
Her voice softened. “Just… don’t lose yourself trying to outrun the pain.”
I wanted to answer, to tell her she was wrong, or maybe that she was too right, but before I could, my phone buzzed in the side pocket of my bag.
My sister. I hesitated, thumb hovering over the screen. Maddie gave me a quiet nod, stepping back and giving me space.
“Liv?” Bianca’s voice was soft but steady, the way she always spoke when she was worried.
“Hey,” I said, though my throat felt tight.
“You sound… tired,” she said gently. “Are you okay? I’ve seen the clips online, you’re training like there's no tomorrow.”
I pressed my eyes shut, jaw clenched. “I’m fine. I have to be.”
A pause, then her voice cracked just slightly. “You don’t have to destroy yourself to prove you’re strong. You’ve already proven it a hundred times.”
The words made something twist deep inside me. For a second, the mask slipped, and I almost let myself break right there on the line.
“Bee…” I swallowed hard, forcing steadiness I didn’t feel. “It’s not about anything. I’m fine. Really. I just need to focus.”
Silence hummed on the line. Then Bianca exhaled, and I could hear the disbelief tucked under her voice. “Liv. You can say that to me, but you forget, I know you. Better than anyone. You’re hurting, and it’s her.”
My grip tightened around the phone until my knuckles went white. “I said I’m fine.” The words came out sharp, harsher than I meant, as if volume could make them true.
“You can keep swinging at the ball until your arms fall off, but that won’t change what’s inside your chest.”
I pressed a hand to my forehead, blinking against the sting in my eyes.
The line went dead, and for a moment, I just stared at the black screen of my phone. My reflection in it looked like a stranger, eyes flat, jaw clenched, like I was holding myself together with tape that kept peeling at the edges.
I tossed the phone in my bag and went straight for the shower.
The water came down scalding, a punishing heat, but it wasn’t enough to burn out the ache in my chest.
I tried to swallow it down, bury it like I’d been burying everything on court. But alone, with the spray drowning out the world, the cracks gave way.
I sank to the floor of the shower, water beating down as if it could wash any of this away. But it couldn’t. It only made the hollow in me feel deeper.
I hated it, hated feeling this weak, hated that even now, even after everything, she had this hold on me.
But the truth was undeniable. No amount of training, no ruthless mask… none of it erased her.
And so I cried, quietly, letting the water carry what I couldn’t admit to anyone.
·····
The weeks had blurred into a rhythm I barely recognized.
Different cities, different courts, same result, win after win stacked beside my name, the score lines ruthless enough that commentators started calling me the new Olivia Smythe, unsure whether to admire it or fear it.
On court, I didn’t give anything away: no theatrics, no apologies, just efficiency sharpened to a point.
Somewhere between the heartbreak and the silence, something had lit inside me, and I hated how effective it was. I even caught myself thinking, half-bitter, half-amused, that maybe this was what it took to unlock another level.
And now, here I was, weeks later, navigating a completely different kind of arena.
A dinner party invite from a brand event in Germany, they want to bring together all their sponsored athletes across every sport imaginable.
The kind of thing that felt less like opportunity and more like duty.
Maddie and I had little choice but to go.
Now, standing in the lobby, the low hum of chatter around us, I tugged Maddie’s sleeve. “I hate this already,” I muttered, scanning the crowd.
She smirked. “Welcome to the glamorous world of being a sponsored athlete. Smile, nod, don’t trip over your own feet, and we’re golden.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, right. Panels, handshakes, corporate photos. My favorite.”
Maddie nudged me with her elbow. “Look, it’s just one night. Play the game. Focus on the brand stuff, you do your thing, I’ll cover the rest.”
I let out a slow breath, straightened my shoulders, and followed her further into the venue. I reminded myself: whatever happened here, whoever might be in the crowd, this night was about appearances. Nothing more.
I drifted toward a small group of U.S. swimmers, exchanging polite banter about off-season routines, training quirks, and upcoming meets. For a moment, it felt almost normal, almost easy until movement at the edge of my vision caught me off guard.
Alex, moving through the crowd alongside a few triathletes, the kind of tailored, feminine suit that seemed designed to make you forget air existed.
Every line of her frame caught the light, every movement precise.
Our eyes met across the room, and for a heartbeat, the world narrowed to just us. My stomach flipped.
So I turned, forcing my attention back to the U.S. swimmers, I leaned slightly toward one of the guys, teasing lightly, letting the flirtation spill out just enough that I could feel Alex’s gaze on me.
And oh, she was watching. I could feel the intensity, that quiet, hungry pull from her across the room.
The yearning in her eyes mirrored my own, the same ache I’d tried so hard to ignore.
Every joke I let slip, every deliberate lean, every smirk was a battle: against the desire to run to her, to touch her, to erase the distance between us.
And yet, I stayed. I played the game, but inside, it was chaos. Her presence, her look, her energy was intoxicating and dangerous, and I was desperately trying not to crash into it headfirst.
I kept talking to the swimmers, words flowing without really hearing them, when a familiar voice sliced through the noise like a blade.
“Hi, everyone.”
Alex had moved beside me, that perfect, composed presence slipping effortlessly into the group. My chest tightened, pulse spiking, but I stayed in place, forcing a laugh at something the swimmer said, pretending she wasn’t a lightning bolt in the room.
Then, as if on cue, the other triathletes began pulling the swimmers to the side, striking up separate conversations. Slowly and deliberately, the group thinned until it was just her and me alone in the middle of the crowded room.
I wanted to close the distance, to throw my arms around her and feel her again.
But seeing her up close, every memory of that hotel room slammed into me: the way she hadn’t tried to reached out, even though I’d blocked her everywhere, she could still have found a way to explain her side.
My chest tightened, heat flooding my blood.
Just the thought of it was enough to make it boil.
Something had happened, and she hadn’t bothered to stop me from thinking about it.
Anger coiled low in my stomach, sharper than desire, warning me to stay away.
“Liv, can we talk?” Her voice broke the silence.
“No.”
“Then when?” she pressed, desperate, taking half a step closer. “You won’t answer my calls and my messages. This is the first chance I’ve had to even look at you. I need you to hear me.”
The cold in my chest hardened. Here she was, trying to peel them open. I folded my arms, staring past her to the chandeliers above.
Her jaw tightened. She just stayed rooted there, eyes locked on me, fighting not to crumble in front of everyone.
“Liv…” Her voice dropped to a whisper, raw. “Please.”
The sound of it, so soft and pleading, knocked the air right out of me. I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek, fighting the sting in my eyes. I hated that she still had that effect on me.
I exhaled. “Fine.” My voice was sharp, but my chest was a mess of nerves. “Five minutes. Out there.”
Her gaze flicked to where I nodded, the balcony. Something like hope sparked across her face. She gave the smallest nod.
“Balcony,” I repeated under my breath, like a warning more to myself than her, before I turned and started walking toward the doors, pulse hammering in my throat.
ALEXANDRA
The night air was cool, brushing against my skin as I stepped onto the balcony. The city lights stretched below, a blur of gold and silver, but all I could see was her.
She didn’t turn at my approach, didn’t acknowledge me, and for a moment, I wondered if I’d already crossed some invisible line I couldn’t come back from.
“Liv,” I began, my voice rough. “About that night in the hotel… what you saw with Cassandra, it wasn’t what you think.”
Her jaw tightened, but she didn’t look at me.
“She’d gone out for a recovery jog and a swim when some guy started following her.
Wouldn’t back off. She panicked and ran straight back to the hotel, but somewhere in the rush she dropped her keycard.
By the time she made it up, she was shaken and still soaked through from the sweat.
I gave her a bathrobe, that’s all. The staff were bringing a spare key, and until then…
she waited in my room. Nothing more than that. ”
She finally turned, her eyes sharp, skeptical.
I swallowed hard, forcing the rest out. “Yeah, it looked bad. Hell, I’d have thought the same if I were you. It was just timing. She was locked out, I needed to shower, and it was just… coincidence. Nothing happened.”
Her arms stayed crossed, she still didn’t say anything, so I kept going.
“And I should’ve told you about everything. I’ve been feeling off these past months, and instead of letting you in, I tried to carry it alone. I thought if I told you, I’d just weigh you down. You already have the whole world to carry with tennis, I didn’t want to be another burden.”
Her laugh was soft but sharp, cutting through me. “So instead, you let me believe the worst. You thought that was protecting me?”
I winced, nodding faintly. “I know. I messed up. I thought hiding it was better than showing you the broken version of me. But it only hurt you more.”
Finally, her gaze met mine, a storm in her eyes.
“I didn’t want you to worry anymore,” I whispered. “But the truth is, I can’t lose you, Liv. Not like this. Not ever.”
Then she leaned against the railing, voice cool but cutting.
“So let me get this straight,” she said. “Cassandra shows up half-dressed in your room, you hop in the shower at the exact same time, and somehow you thought, ‘yes, this is a situation Olivia will definitely find comforting.’”
“Liv, I tried,” I blurted, desperate. “I tried to explain. I called, I texted, dozens of times. You blocked me everywhere. What was I supposed to do?”
Her mouth pressed into a thin line. “You don’t get to act noble about this. You don’t get points for staying away while I was twisting myself in knots. If you really wanted to fix it, Alex, you would’ve found a way.”
Her words were sharp, and I couldn’t argue. They came straight from the wound I’d carved into her.
“I was scared,” I admitted, my voice raw. “Not just of making it worse.”
Her laugh came, short and bitter. “Congratulations, Alex. You ruined it anyway.”
The words burned, but I knew I deserved them.
“I know,” I whispered, forcing myself to hold her gaze.
“I hurt you because I kept everything locked up. I never told you how much I needed you, how much I hated myself for freezing up instead of fighting for you. I thought silence would protect you from me, but it only made you bleed more.”
I swallowed hard, stepping closer, careful like she might shatter if I pushed too far. “I don’t want points, Liv. I don’t want forgiveness I haven’t earned. I just want one chance to do this right. No hiding, no excuses, no shutting you out. Just the truth.”
She exhaled sharply, looking away at the city lights, but I caught the flicker in her eyes before she turned. “God, you really don’t make it easy, do you?”
I let the words sink, then spoke again. “Liv… I know I’m the one who cracked this open.
I know I made you feel like you didn’t matter when the truth is you’re the only one who ever did.
And if holding on to me just keeps reopening the wound, I will do whatever it takes so you don’t have to bleed because of me.
Not because I want to, but because you deserve to breathe without my damage crushing you. ”
For a moment, she stood stiff, her arms folded like armor. But then something in her face shifted, softening just enough to make my heart lurch.
“I forgive you,” she said. “But don’t mistake that for trust. What we had… it has a hole in it now, Alex. A massive one.”
Her eyes shimmered, steady even as her voice cracked. “You broke something. And even if I wanted to, I can’t just snap my fingers and pretend it never happened. That’s not how this works.”
She forgave me, but it came wrapped in barbed wire.
Olivia drew herself up, swiping quickly at the corner of her eye before the tears could fall. When she spoke again, her tone had settled into something steadier. “Tonight isn’t the night for this. I’ve bled enough in front of people. I’m not giving them any more of a show.”
She moved past me then, back toward the door, heels clicking against the stone.
And then she slipped inside, leaving me on the balcony with only the night air and the faint echo of what I’d almost lost for good.