Off-Court (COMPLETED)

The Loud Yell

Demille groaned as her alarm went off at 6:00 in the morning, signaling the start of another grueling day of training. The temptation to pull the covers over her head and stay in bed was overwhelming, but she knew she didn’t have a choice. This was the path she had chosen—tennis over a more traditional life of studying and a regular career. Complaining wouldn’t change the fact that this was what she had worked so hard for, what she had sacrificed so much to achieve.

With a resigned sigh, she got out of bed and took a quick, cold shower to wake herself up. The icy water shocked her system, but it was exactly what she needed to shake off the last remnants of sleep. After getting dressed in her comfortable sports attire, she joined her coach, Juan, and her mental coach, Klein, for breakfast. They ate quietly, the tension of the upcoming final match hanging over them like a cloud. Her opponent was Carla Badosa, and the match was scheduled for 4:00 in the afternoon.

After breakfast and a brief 15-minute rest, they drove to the tennis courts for a final practice session. Demi felt a chill run down her spine as she stepped out of the car, slinging her duffle bag over her shoulder. The atmosphere was charged with nervous energy as players milled around, warming up and getting ready for their own training sessions. The whole court  was enormous, with at least seven or ten courts, and all were filled with players intensely focused on their routines.

As Demi looked around, her eyes were drawn to a tall, blonde man who was practicing with a level of intensity that was impossible to ignore. Andrey Rublev was on fire, his powerful shots echoing across the court as he shouted in frustration after every missed ball.

“God! Rublev is on fire again! Juan commented, clapping his hands “My idol”

Demi rolled her eyes, unimpressed by Juan’s fanboying. She placed her duffle bag on a nearby bench and took a moment to watch Andrey play. She had seen him in action many times before, and she couldn’t deny that he is a phenomenal player. His strength and stamina were incredible, making him one of the top players in the world. But despite his skill, his outbursts on the court were infamous, earning him as much attention as his game.

“BWEH!” Andrey yelled in frustration, his signature exclamation echoing through the courts.

After a few minutes of watching Andrey, Demi reminded herself that she wasn’t there to spectate. She had her own training to focus on. Juan, too, seemed to realize this and quickly redirected his attention back to her.

“Watch him later” Demi said with a smirk as she began her warm-up routine. “Are you aware that you’re practically drooling over him? Right, Klein?”

Klein laughed and nodded in agreement, causing Juan to glared at them “Excuse me! I am not drooling” he defended himself.

With that banter out of the way, Demi shifted into serious mode. For her, tennis was more than just a sport it was a battle of willpower, a test of mental and physical endurance. She practiced with a calm intensity, never allowing stress or frustration to show on her face. On the court, she was known for her composure—never yelling, never throwing tantrums, no matter how high the stakes or how tough the match. To her, losing control was a sign of weakness, something she would never allow herself to display.

Two hours later, Demi’s practice session finally came to an end. She was drenched in sweat, her muscles aching and her hands trembling from the exertion. She took a deep breath and sat down on the bench next to her duffle bag, trying to steady her shaking hands. Klein handed her a water bottle, and she drank it gratefully, her mind already racing with thoughts of the match ahead.

“Good luck with the match later” Juan said, patting her on the head as he sat down beside her. “I know you can do this”

“I know” Demi replied confidently, though she felt the weight of his expectations. “But first, I need to go and rest. I need to be at my best later.”

She glanced around at the other players, some of whom were chatting and playing around, clearly more relaxed than she felt. She stood up, slung her duffle bag over her shoulder, and turned to Juan. “Don’t worry, I won’t shower yet. I’ll rest first” she said, before heading back to her room.

...

Later that afternoon, after a intense match against Carla Badosa, Demille found herself sitting in front of a sea of reporters at the post-match press conference. She had won the final, but the thrill of victory was quickly overshadowed by the anxiety of facing the press. No matter how many times she did this it never got easier, it felt like it was always her first time. Always feeling nervous on how many people in front of her, the flash of camera making her flinched many times, touching her face, ears and neck is a sign she’s anxious she took a one pill after the game to make her calm but guess what? The pill doesn’t even help her a lot.

Demille forced a smile as the first question was thrown her way. “Are you happy?”

What kind of question is that? she thought, trying not to let her irritation show “Are you happy, Miss Gomez, after winning another title this year?”

“H-Hi… o-of course—erm, well, doing your best to win another title is really a blessing. Of course, I’m happy!” she stammered, cursing herself internally for sounding so nervous.

“And what are your plans after this?” another reporter asked.

“Probably after this interview, I’ll take a shower and sleep,” Demi answered with a shy smile, earning a round of laughter from the press. Emboldened by their response, she added, “And eat” she added which made them laugh even more.

But the mood shifted when a reporter brought up a rumor that had been circulating “Someone spotted you in Spain with Jannik Sinner last Christmas. Is there something going on between you two?”

Demi shook her head firmly. “There’s nothing happening between us. We’re just friends, and Jannik is really cool and a kind friend who you can trust. That’s why I’m close to him” she explained, though she could sense the reporter’s disappointment at her response.

After the interview, Demi spent the next 30 minutes with her fans, signing autographs and taking pictures. Despite the draining press conference, this was a part of her job that she genuinely loved. Her fans meant the world to her, and she always made time for them, no matter how tired she was.

Once she had said goodbye to the last fan, Demi returned to her hotel room, exhausted but relieved to finally have some time to herself. Juan had been pestering her about going out to eat a Filipino dish he was craving, but she had no energy left for socializing.

“I don’t want to go. I’m tired, let me sleep this time” she pleaded with him.

Juan, ever the persistent coach, wasn’t having it “Are you crazy? Do you want to die?” he said, half-serious, half-joking.

Demi sighed, knowing he wouldn’t let up. “I’m just joking, but please, let me rest here in my room. I’m tired of everyone”

Juan studied her for a moment before nodding in understanding. “Okay, don’t worry about me,” he said before leaving her room.

As the door closed behind him, Demi let out a long sigh of relief “Ugh, Juan is so exhausting” she muttered to herself, flopping down onto the sofa. She checked her phone, sifting through the messages she had received. Most were from fans, her friends in Italy, and her mom. After replying to a few, she turned off her phone and stared up at the ceiling, feeling the weight of the day pressing down on her.

But even as tired as she was, sleep wouldn’t come easily. She got up and decided to take a walk to clear her mind. The cold evening air bit at her cheeks as she stepped outside, pulling her thick coat tighter around her. The streets were busy, filled with people rushing to and fro, but Demi wasn’t in the mood for the noise. She needed somewhere quiet, a place where she could think and find some peace.

Her life felt boring to outsiders—few friends, a reserved personality, and a reputation for being a bit of a bitch. She had anger issues, trust issues, and got anxious easily. But despite all that, she loved her own company. She was comfortable with her flaws and had learned to embrace them. To her, being alone wasn’t a sign of sadness or loneliness. It was a choice she made to protect her peace of mind.

As she walked, Demi’s thoughts drifted back to her family. Tomorrow, she would be flying back to Italy, and she would finally get to see her mom again. There was a comfort in returning home, a sense of familiarity that she craved after the chaos of the tournament. The thought of seeing her mom brought a small smile to her lips, and for the first time that day, she felt a sense of calm wash over her.