EMMA SCHRÖDER WAS A GENEROUS TENNIS PLAYER. That's why she decided to compete in the local, New Rochelle Challenger. She'd recently come back from a brief hiatus, after the divorce from her husband, Declan. And, in not only her eyes, but her coach's eyes, resuming in a more compact competitive arena would remind people of her talent and intense training. That she was a force to be reckoned with—and she was no easy feat. Even if she took her well-deserved breaks.
Despite her love for tennis, Emma was a family woman at heart. Her husband—ex-husband—their son, and her best friend was who she considered to be her family. Even her coach at times. They've been through many ups and downs in her career—they deserved the title.
The atmosphere of the Challenger wasn't as busy as any of the past games she played in. It was nothing compared to Wimbledon, but it was a great refresher. Dressed in her staple tennis clothes—a Nike tennis dress, that had a netted skirt attached, and her favorite pair of Adidas shoes—she approached sign-in with her ex-husband and child behind her. Christian standing by the door, with his blue eyes on his phone. Probably, going over his notes for the match. Holding her son's hand, she spoke.
"Hi, I'm checking in for the Challenger— Emma Sch-"
"Emma Schröder— I know who you are." The woman grinned to herself, jutting her head toward a poster on the wall. She waved at the small boy beside her. It was a picture of Emma from her winning match at Wimbledon in 2015. She was holding the gold trophy with both hands, with a large smile on her face and tears down her cheeks. It was her first comeback after having her son, Miller, and she came back strong. If it weren't for her loss at the French Open, it could've been a Grand Slam year.
Emma nodded, chortling. The woman leaned forward, slightly squinting her eyes with interest. "What brings you to New Rochelle? This isn't Wimbledon." She asked, with a friendly smile.
The blonde hummed, nodding in thought. Her divorce was fairly public, but the cause remained unknown. She noticed the looks she got entering the club with her husband in tow and their child on his hip. "I'm using this opportunity to ground myself after a short break. And there's nothing like a smaller court in my old stomping grounds." Emma tilts her head, the corners of her lips curling briefly.
She snickered, bundling her hands in front of her. "Well, it's good to see you. And you're not the only one coming back around..."
