Dagrit Mada

The night before the biggest competition of his life, David sat at the hotel room window, his silhouette framed by the dim glow of the stadium lights across the street. The track stretched out like a silent challenge, every curve and lane etched into his mind after years of training. He should've felt ready, confident. Instead, the weight of the past clawed at him, pulling him under. His fists clenched on his lap, muscles tense with the tension he couldn't shake.

Behind him, the room felt too quiet. His thoughts filled the space, echoes of his mother's betrayal replaying in jagged fragments. The cold, clinical discussions of missing funds. The hollow apologies, her promises never kept. He could still hear the cheers from a crowd that wasn't for him—back when he was competing for validation he would never receive from her.

His chest tightened. He hadn't told Sarah everything, not the raw details, but she knew enough. She could sense when the ghosts started whispering.

Soft footsteps broke the silence. Sarah lingered in the doorway for a moment, watching him. The way his shoulders slumped, how his breath came shallow—she knew this place he was in. Quietly, she crossed the room and sat beside him on the edge of the bed. The mattress shifted slightly beneath her weight, and for a brief second, the movement grounded him.

"David," her voice was a gentle murmur, coaxing him out of his thoughts. She rested her hand on his knee, a subtle anchor pulling him back to the present. "You've been staring at that track for an hour. What's going on?"

He inhaled deeply, eyes still fixed on the stadium. "I can't stop thinking about her," he admitted, his voice tight. "About everything she did. It's like... no matter how far I get, it's always there, waiting to pull me down."

Sarah's fingers curled around his knee, firm but tender. "She can't touch you now," she said softly, but her words carried a quiet strength. "You've already broken free from all of that. Look at where you are, David. Tomorrow, you're stepping onto that track, not because of her, but because of you, your journey."

David turned, finally meeting her eyes. There was a storm of emotions behind his gaze—fear, anger, vulnerability. "What if I can't focus?" His voice cracked, the weight of his doubt spilling out. "What if... after everything... I fail?"

Sarah leaned closer, her eyes never leaving his. "David," she whispered, her breath warm against his cheek. "You've been fighting your whole life. Against expectations, against betrayal. You've faced down bigger battles than this one. Tomorrow isn't about her. It's about you—about proving to yourself that none of that can hold you back anymore."

He swallowed hard, her words sinking in. But the fear still lingered, gnawing at the edges. "I want to believe that," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "But it's hard. It's so damn hard."

Sarah's hand slid up to his cheek, her thumb brushing away the tension in his jaw. "I know it is," she said, her eyes soft but unwavering. "But you don't have to do it alone. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere." She paused, leaning in closer, her forehead resting lightly against his. "We're in this together."

David's breath hitched, the warmth of her touch steadying him. He closed his eyes, the room around them fading into the background. For the first time that night, he allowed himself to feel the safety in her presence—the way she could pull him back from the edge with just a touch, a word.

"I don't know what I'd do without you," he murmured, his voice barely audible.

"You don't have to know," she replied softly, her lips grazing his in a tender, lingering kiss. "Because you'll never be without me."

The tension in his chest eased, his breathing slowing as her words wrapped around him like a shield. When she pulled back, he held onto her, his forehead resting against hers, their breaths mingling in the quiet. "Thank you," he whispered.