„I think Italy has some magic water."
„I think so too."
_-_-_-_-_
He is a good short distance swimmer. His domain is the backstroke. He looks like a model and the female fans can go crazy for him.
She is a diver who masters 3 meters, 10 meters and p...
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The afternoon transitioned into its second half, and Beatrice was ready to head back to the pool. After the victory ceremony, she had spent some time with the team, enjoyed their congratulations, and thanked everyone who had supported her. But now that her triumph was behind her, she had another important task ahead—being there for Thomas. She changed into comfortable clothing, again in Italian colors, and felt a pleasant anticipation welling up in her chest. Thomas had promised to swim with all his might, and she couldn't miss it.
When she arrived at the pool, the atmosphere was once again charged with tension. The place that had previously been filled with her own nervous thoughts was now filled with the anticipation and energy of other athletes and fans. Beatrice made her way to the stands, trying to find a spot where she would have a good view of the lanes. Around her, many people were already seated, all intently watching the preparations for the race.
When she finally found a good spot and sat down, her heart started to beat faster. For a moment, she closed her eyes and recalled her own morning—the feeling when the whole world goes silent, and there is only that one moment where you are fully focused on your performance. But now she was on the other side, as a spectator, and she wanted to do everything in her power to support Thomas.
A hush fell over the hall as the competitors stepped onto the pool deck. Thomas was among them, tall and confident, his movements sure and focused. Beatrice watched him as he put on his swimming goggles and prepared for his race. It was a strange mix of feelings—pride, joy, but also concern for his success. She knew how much this race meant to him, and she wished for everything to go exactly as he had planned.
The competitors took their positions on the starting blocks, and the hall was filled with tense silence. Beatrice sat on the edge of her seat, fingers tightly clasped on her knees, watching Thomas's every move. As soon as the starting signal sounded, the swimmers dove into the water, their bodies churning up the surface, and the sound of their synchronized movements filled the hall.
Thomas swam with incredible speed. His movements were smooth and precise, each stroke propelling him forward. Beatrice watched as he moved through the water with incredible ease and power. Everything looked perfect, exactly as she had imagined. Thomas was determined and focused, getting closer to the finish line with every meter.
In her mind, Beatrice counted each of his strokes, crossed her fingers, and cheered him on in her head. "Come on, Tommy, you're amazing," she whispered to herself, as if she could encourage him through sheer force of will. It was the same feeling she had experienced during her own race, that constant desire to reach the finish line and know that you had given it your all.
As Thomas approached the final meters, the tension in the hall intensified. The crowd began to cheer loudly, and the atmosphere was charged with adrenaline. Beatrice couldn't take her eyes off Thomas as he neared the finish. She watched his every move, as his body swam with perfect technique and strength.
