I Hate You, I Love You | Challengers

Sixteen | Letting go

PRESENT DAY

Sabrina's brow furrowed in concentration, lay sprawled on the court, her lithe body a picture of controlled tension. Her arm rose, mimicking the motion of a serve, a mechanical repetition that felt more like a chore than a passion.

“Lie on the ground and hit a few gentle serves,” Victoria had instructed, her voice as crisp and commanding as a military drill sergeant's. “Lie down.” Sabrina complied, the scorching concrete burning through her thin shirt. Her arm rose, a mechanical imitation of the fluid motion she once mastered.

“Do it, until I say stop.” With a swift, decisive turn, Victoria disappeared behind the chain-link fence. The silence stretched, with the echoes of the past. Suddenly, a familiar voice broke the quiet.

“There's an easier technique you know?” a deep, playful voice chuckled.

Sabrina's fingers twitched in annoyance. “Go away, Art,” she muttered, pushing herself up on an elbow, her gaze fixed on the ground.

“Let me help you,” he persisted, settling down beside her, a mischievous glint in his blue eyes.

“I don't need help,” Sabrina retorted, her voice as sharp as a knife.

“You've been out of practice for ten years, Bri,” Art teased, his smile widening. “You could use all the help you can get. Something your mother is clearly lacking.”

“I don't think your wife would appreciate you being here,” Sabrina countered, her voice laced with sarcasm.

“No, she wouldn't,” Art replied, a hint of defiance in his tone. “But I really don't care.”

A sudden crackle of tension in the air alerted Sabrina. She froze, her muscles tightening. Victoria's voice, sharp and clear, cut through the silence. “Sabrina?”

Sabrina's body stiffened, her heart hammering in her chest. Fear, a familiar enemy, began to creep in. But before she could respond, a strong hand clasped onto her wrist, pulling her back to the ground.

“Do you trust me?” Art whispered, his gaze intense, his touch sending a shiver down her spine. Memories, like ghosts from a forgotten past, flooded Sabrina's mind. Memories of a time when Art had asked her the same question, a time when their connection had felt like a burning ember, a promise whispered on the wind. A faint smile, tinged with nostalgia, graced her lips. Art noticed, a flicker of recognition passing through his eyes.

“I said, do you trust me?” he repeated, his voice low and urgent. Sabrina hesitated for a moment, the weight of her choice pressing down on her. She nodded slowly, her gaze meeting his.
A knowing smile spread across Art's face. He turned Sabrina around, placing his hands gently on her waist, his touch a familiar comfort, a reminder of their shared history.

“You need to keep this arm up and feel that your arm is being thrown forward when you decelerate your body,” he instructed, his voice a calm counterpoint to the turmoil swirling within her. His words, simple yet potent, resonated with her. It was as if he was weaving a thread back into the intricate tapestry of her life, a life that had been so forcefully torn apart.

Suddenly, Victoria's voice cut through the air again, a thunderous roar that shattered the fragile peace they had forged. “Art! Leave, now!”