Off-Court (COMPLETED)

The In Denial Queen

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Demille Gomez announces withdrawal from WTA finals due to her right leg injury.

Demille Gomez turned off her phone and leaned back in her seat, closing her eyes in an attempt to block out the stress that was threatening to overwhelm her. Juan’s decision to reveal her injury to the media had sent her into frustration. How many times had she begged him not to say anything, to keep the details away from the press, and especially to keep it from her mother?

The WTA Finals were incredibly important to her, and now it felt as though everything was slipping away. Her coaches and her mother had been adamant—this time, they wouldn’t let her play. They were convinced that her right leg injury would only worsen if she pushed herself further, and the risk wasn’t worth it.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please be seated. Our flight is ready for departure" came the announcement over the intercom, pulling Demille from her thoughts.

She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. She could already picture Juan’s reaction when he discovered she wasn’t in her hotel room anymore but on a flight to Barcelona. The thought of his eyes widening in disbelief, his face slowly turning red with anger, made her grin despite the situation. She had snuck away without telling anyone, determined to regain some control over her life. she grinned at her thoughts before closing her eyes planning to sleep the whole flight.

Carlos crossed his arms while watching as Demille slowly made her way toward him. She was waving her hand energetically, her face lit up with a smile, almost like a child who had just returned home after a long summer camp. Despite the smile, Carlos couldn’t shake the concern gnawing at him. Her injury wasn’t something to take lightly, and he knew it.

"Let me help you walk" he offered, stepping forward to assist her. Demille’s smile faded as she rolled her eyes in annoyance "Did Juan know about this?" he asked.

"I can walk just fine now, and of course, he knows!" she retorted, avoiding his gaze. Carlos wasn’t convinced. He grabbed her suitcase and started walking ahead of her, his worry deepening "Also, Klein" she added, as if that would make everything okay.

Carlos glanced back at her, his expression skeptical. "No te creo" he muttered under his breath.

Demille huffed, rolling her eyes again. "I’m fine now, Charlie. It’s been a week, and I can walk—or even run—already. Hello!? I even managed to get back here all by myself," she said, her tone defensive. "Logic" she added, whispering the word as she gave him a sidelong look.

Carlos stopped walking and turned to face her, his eyes narrowing. "So, they didn’t know?"

"They know!" Demille insisted, her voice growing louder.

"Okay, I’ll call them" Carlos said, pulling out his phone. Demille's eyes widened, and before he could dial Juan's number, she quickly snatched the phone out of his hand.

"See? You’re lying!" Carlos accused, stopping in his tracks and crossing his arms over his chest. "Mentiroso!"

Demille sighed, realizing she was caught. "They wouldn’t let me come, so I ditched them" she admitted, watching as Carlos rolled his eyes and took his phone back from her.

"You liar!" he muttered, then suddenly turned and sprinted away from her, a playful smirk on his face. Demille groaned and ran after him, her voice echoing through the airport as she repeatedly called his name. Her loud cries drew the attention of passersby, and Carlos finally stopped, turning to glare at her with a mix of amusement and embarrassment.

The drive to Ferrero's On Court tennis academy was quiet, with Carlos casting worried glances at Demille from time to time. When they arrived, the sounds of children playing tennis filled the air, a stark contrast to the tension between them. They made their way to the cafeteria and ordered something to eat.