Tangled in Trophies- Lando Norris

14. Final

Evangeline woke up at 5 am the morning of the Australian open final. She had won every match in the open so far, dominating every player and leaving no chance for her to be defeated. She was a testament to the countless hours of training and coaching she had put herself through in the off season.

Winning the Australian open would solidly her dominance the last three years, she would show everyone it wasn't just a stream of luck, or lack of competition, it was her own bridled ambition and determination to the sport that had got her here.

After eating a yoghurt bowl and small apple Evangeline had decided to take a minor break before warming up for today's match against Jonova Trixie, a fierce 20 year old competitor from America she met the year prior. Evangeline has watched the field games prior to the open, studied the way she played, what areas she was weak in. The match would be like a warm up for Evangeline and she knew it, but apart of her wanted to play with the girl a little, have abit of fun rather then win straight away. So she decided that was exactly what she'd do.

2 hours later Evangeline stood in the tunnel that exited out onto the courts where she would play the final match for the Australian open.She could hear the murmuring of the crowd, the rustling of ball boys and the sound of her heart beating rhythmically against her chest. She no longer got nervous before matches, instead she stared off and dissociated knowing that in the next hour and a half she'd be stood with the trophy, and if she wasn't stood with it, she'd congratulate the winner and never been seen in public again. Maybe abit dramatic but she didn't care.

"Evangeline Vittor!" The speaker announced, signalling for Evangeline to walk onto the court. She carted her gym bag on her back holding two of her rackets in her left hands before placing them on the bench closest to her tunnel.

She gave the crowd a small wave before taking a mental note to try and sign some of the fans items on the way out.

Evangeline could feel the adrenaline rushing through her as she stood on the court, the roar of the crowd a familiar, electric pulse around her. She gripped her racket tightly, scanning the stands and absorbing the immense energy before refocusing on her goal. Winning the Australian Open would mean solidifying her dominance after three years at the top. This match was everything she'd worked towards.

Across the court, Jonova stood. The two players walked to the net, exchanging a brief nod, the silent understanding of what this moment would mean to them both. Evangeline shook Jonovas hand before walking back to her previous position. Evangeline's opponent radiated a tenacity that Evangeline both respected and welcomed. In her mind, it only sharpened the need to win.

Up in his flat in Monaco, Lando had set up his laptop, snacks and coffee laid out beside him as he settled in to watch. He'd been keeping up with Evangeline's matches throughout the tournament, his interest almost a secret curiosity even he wouldn't admit. As the match coverage began, the camera panned to Evangeline entering the court. She looked both fierce and calm, an almost intimidating aura around her. He took in the details: her dark, sleek athletic outfit, streamlined yet stylish, a striking contrast against the vibrant blue of the court. It was no wonder her presence was almost iconic; she looked unstoppable.

The match kicked off with fierce rallies, each point hard-fought, each return more punishing than the last. Evangeline's serve was relentless, and she played her angles to perfection, forcing her opponent to sprint across the court. She was powerful and strategic, and her movements held a rhythm that was almost hypnotic. The commentators were quick to praise her precision.

"Vittori looks at the top of her game, completely composed out there today," one commentator remarked. "She's not leaving any room for mistakes."

But her opponent was determined, returning shot after shot with a resilience that kept the crowd on their toes. For a few games, the two players seemed locked in an endless, intense exchange, each refusing to yield.

Lando found himself leaning forward as the match progressed, hands clenched as he watched. The energy was making him nervous, even through the screen. Every time her opponent seemed to find a crack in Evangeline's defense, Evangeline retaliated with a counterplay that was more ruthless than the last. It was mesmerizing—and terrifying—to watch someone so laser-focused, so unstoppable.

Evangeline felt the pressure mounting as the match edged toward a climactic finish. Her opponent was tiring, her pace slowing, while Evangeline pushed harder. With every powerful swing, she felt closer to victory, closer to cementing this title. Yet, she didn't let her focus waver for a second.

As the last set came down to a break point, she steadied her breath and prepared for the serve. She knew exactly where she needed to place it. Her opponent barely had a chance; the ball rocketed over the net with precision, landing just within the line. The crowd erupted as the umpire called.

"Game, set, match."

She'd done it. She'd won the Australian Open.

She through her hand up in the hair showing four fingers to the crowd, a symbol of how many Austrlian opens shed won before turning herself to the nearest camera blowing it a kiss. Something she hadn't done since her rookie season. After the quick celebration Evangeline approached the net, hoping to share a few words with Jonova after a decent match.

As her opponent approached the net, Evangeline softened, offering a kind smile and a quiet, genuine word of encouragement. " Good match, ill see you in California"

They shared a brief embrace before parting, both exhausted, both changed by the intensity of the match. Evangeline was starting to enjoy being able to celebrate after her wins, rather then be ridiculed by the crowd.

The arena thundered with applause, and she took a moment to bask in the feeling. She held the trophy high, but inside, it was both a thrill and a relief to have the match over.

In Monaco, Lando leaned back, letting out a low whistle as he processed what he'd just watched. He hadn't expected her to be that good—watching her had felt like watching a storm. There was something terrifyingly intense about her, almost ruthless. And he could see why she was considered the best. There was a respect, almost admiration, that he hadn't expected to feel. He however felt slightly embarrassed as he whistled for her victory realising he was sat alone in his apartment and not watching the match live.

He shook his head, chuckling to himself. "Guess you really do live up to the hype, Vittori," he muttered.