𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄, 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄, 𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘. - 𝐀.𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐃𝐒𝐎𝐍

STANCE, SERVE, RALLY - One.

Alaska Flores knew little of how the real world outside of her family-endeavoured, tennis-centred empire worked.

For she was merely a seventeen year-old scholar, acquiring a full-ride to Stanford University under the pretences of being an elite tennis player.

Alaska had been brought up by two of Canada's biggest socialites, both of which took the art of tennis rather seriously.

Serious enough that by the age of four, the Flores' had hired a private tennis coach to teach Alaska how to play in their courts they had installed on their land.

And that had become all Alaska had known since.

She never had time to attend a proper, in-person high school, to make actual friends, for free time was a luxury that - until she claimed her title of being top ten in the women's global tennis rank - she couldn't afford to indulge in yet.

Hell, they wouldn't even let her consider getting a part-time job like other children of her age. For the minute Alaska were to take on other responsibilities, to her parents, that means less time to dedicate herself to the sport and improve her status.

Currently, Alaska Flores 2nd in her state, 25fth in the country, and 77th globally.

And these statistics simply weren't good enough.

And according to her parents thorough mapping and statistical planning about how she was to schedule the most active stage of her entire life,

She had about 22 years to get better.

But time depletes fast, human bones get brittle - joints get rusted by inevitable age, and what starts off as a blazing flame of miraculous inherited athleticism dwindles and fizzes into a middle-aged woman still grappling onto her prime years, before her debilitating arthritis set in.

And now, all of a sudden, she's old and grey. Staring blankly at her infamous racket, now retired and mounted on the wall.

Time terrified Alaska.

It was the only fearful thing her parents had failed to use their vast supply of wealth to shield her away from.

Every second that passed, she was aging. Her youthful nimbleness decreased each second, as did her strength to swing with a racket - to sprint around the court chasing balls.

And God knows how long she really had left.

And her parents' approval was worth all the time in the world.

She wasn't about to waste thirteen years of elite training just to settle for less than first place.

After all, this was her purpose. Her soul mission.

I mean, why would two tennis-driven social-elitists have a child just for it to end up being a Lawyer, or a Ballerina?

That's stupid - illogical. Embarrassing for her parents and their image. Everything they'd built for Alaska.

So, she kept her head down - enrolling in online school and under the close surveillance of her parents - dedicating most of her existence to either studying or hitting tennis balls.

It would be extremely concerning if Alaska was mediocre at Tennis considering she was practically a product of the sport - her parents knew they wanted their daughter to be a Tennis prodigy before she'd even been conceived.

So, it was true.

Alaska Flores was sheltered from the rest of the world - raised in a bubble materialised of textbooks and tennis.