The spark // Art Donaldson

011. Fatigue

Cadell, 2019

Cadell woke up early the next day despite her match being at five p.m. She was not in good shape. Her tears had dried on her face overnight, and her head was still spinning. It had not been the first time she had woken up like that, but it was the first time she would have to deal with it on the day of a match.

Alex had asked where she had gone after practice for so long, and she couldn't provide him with an adequate answer. Naturally, he had gone ballistic, throwing things and yelling. She hadn't gone to sleep until 2 a.m., and Cadell was tired, having only slept three hours.

The worst part was that she knew she deserved it. This wasn't a manipulative trick to make her take it; she knew that what she had done was wrong. She had cheated. She had become just as bad as Alex had been.

As Cadell sat up in bed, the events of the previous night replayed in her mind. The guilt weighed heavily on her, making it hard to breathe. She had crossed a line, and now she had to face the consequences. Her thoughts drifted back to Art, to the way he had looked at her, and to the kiss that had changed everything. The memory of his touch sent a shiver down her spine, but it also filled her with a deep sense of regret. Not only had she cheated, but she had also ruined a whole family.

Cadell forced herself out of bed, wincing at the soreness in her muscles after a "makeup session" with Alex that she was sure he knew she didn't enjoy.

She had to push through and had to focus on the match. Her career was on the line, and she couldn't afford to let her personal life interfere with her performance.

If she lost in a challenger, what would all of her fans think of her?

She took a quick shower, letting the hot water soothe her aching body, then dressed in her tennis gear. She headed to the kitchen, grabbing a protein bar and a bottle of water. As she sat at the small table, she stared blankly at the wall, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.

She needed to clear her head, to find a way to compartmentalize her feelings. But it was easier said than done. Her phone buzzed, snapping her out of her thoughts. She picked it up, hoping for a message from Art, but there was nothing. Of course there was nothing. He didn't even have her number. She set the phone down with a sigh and took a deep breath.

She couldn't afford to dwell on her mistakes. She had to keep moving forward. With renewed determination, Cadell grabbed her tennis bag and headed out the door.

As Cadell made her way to the courts, the brisk morning air helped clear her mind slightly. She focused on the rhythm of her steps, the familiar weight of her tennis bag on her shoulder, and the routine she had followed so many times before.

The sky was a clear blue, and the campus was quiet, with only a few early risers heading to their classes or morning runs. Approaching the tennis facility, she saw a few other players warming up, stretching, and chatting with their coaches. She tried to find some solace in the normalcy of it all, the predictability of the pre-match rituals.

But her heart sank when she spotted Art in the distance, standing near the entrance with a couple of his teammates. He was laughing at something one of them had said, his easy smile lighting up his face. The sight of him, so at ease and seemingly unaffected by the previous night's events, made her stomach churn.

She had hoped, maybe naively, that there would be some acknowledgment, some sign that he was thinking about her too. Taking a deep breath, she walked towards the entrance, her steps slow and deliberate. She kept her gaze straight ahead, not daring to look directly at him.

But as she drew closer, she couldn't resist a quick glance in his direction. Their eyes met for the briefest of moments, and she saw a flicker of something–but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. Art's expression turned stony, and he looked away, continuing his conversation as if she wasn't there.