She's back ~ L. Hamilton

120.| Semi Finals

The hallway outside the training rooms is quieter than it should be.

Semifinal day at the US Open isn't supposed to feel like this, contained, almost still.There should be noise. Movement. Energy bleeding through the walls.

Instead, there's just the low hum of the air conditioning and the distant echo of a crowd that hasn't seen her yet.

Nicki Li walks with purpose anyway.

She always does.

Her racket bag rests against her shoulder, her grip firm, her pace measured. Not rushed. She doesn't look left or right as she passes other players, coaches, staff, faces that turn, linger, whisper.

Her hand reaches the door of her assigned training room and she pushes the door open.

The first thing she notices is the flowers.

They're sitting on the table in the centre of the room, completely out of place against the sterile, functional surroundings. No branding. No card with a sponsor's logo. No attempt at subtlety.

Just... flowers.

Nicki steps inside, closing the door behind her slowly, eyes fixed on them.

They're deep red and a stark white. Both of them stand almost as a juxtaposition to eachother. The red, not soft red. Not romantic. Dark—almost black at the edges. The kind of red that looks like it belongs on a battlefield, not in a bouquet.

Red and white carnations.

Her jaw tightens slightly.

Carnations mean different things depending on who's giving them.

Love. Admiration.

Or

War.

She sets her bag down without taking her eyes off them, moving closer, each step deliberate. The room feels smaller now, tighter, like the air has shifted around the arrangement.

There's a card.

Of course there is.

Nicki reaches for it, fingers steady, and flips it open.

The handwriting is unmistakable.

Clean. Sharp. No wasted movement.

Delaney.

Nicki reads it once.

Then again.

Ciao amico mio,
Good luck.
A semi-final suits you.
I'll be cheering for you—right up until I hear
"Game, set, match, Li."
After that, it's mine.

Nicki exhales slowly through her nose.

Not anger.

Not surprise.

Her eyes flick back to the flowers, taking them in properly now. The colour. The choice. The intent. This isn't kindness. It's not intimidation either.

It's recognition.

Delaney doesn't send flowers to players she doesn't believe in.

Delaney doesn't send flowers full stop.

Nicki's grip tightens slightly around the card.

A slow smile pulls at the corner of her mouth.

"Of course you did," she murmurs under her breath.

Of course Delaney Ricciardo wouldn't just watch the semi-final.

She'd insert herself into it.

Quietly. Precisely.

Like this.

Nicki places the card back down beside the bouquet, straightening it so it sits exactly where it was before.

She rolls her shoulders once, then reaches for her racket, pulling it from her bag with practiced ease. The familiar weight settles into her hand, grounding.

Her gaze flicks back to the flowers one last time.

Nicki adjusts her grip, bouncing lightly on her feet, already moving out of the room.

As she closed the door behind her, a small smile graced her lips.

_________

That evening, Myself, Lewis, Tasha, Daniel and Liam were all gathered around the tv in my hotel suite. I'm attempting to act as normal as I can, laugh to Daniel's jokes, join in on the conversation, but I can feel the stress gathering in my knees. I'm trying to stretch them out.

"Here" Lewis mumbled, noticing my not so subtle attempts to stretch my knee. He moves to sit further down on the coach, lifting my leg up and bringing my knee to rest on his lap, and then he very slowly and carefully begins to massage my knee and the muscles around it.

"Thank you" I smile

Liams back is killing him, so he's watching TV from the floor with his legs up the wall.

Nicki is playing Swift in the semis.

She's now serving for the match.

"We want Li to win," Tasha says. "Right? I'm just confirming I'm rooting for the right thing here."

I nod "Yeah, we want Li to win"

Nicki serves a kick serve. Swift returns. Nicki hits a groundstroke, bouncing just at the baseline and then into the stands. Nicki can anticipate the ball better than almost anyone I know.

"Fuck, she's good," I say.

Liam nods. "She is."

"And she's got no coach," I say. "She doesn't have that magic in her back pocket, like I've had all these years. She's doing this all herself."

Nicki serves another, fast and ugly, like she's dropping a bomb.

"Nicki's gonna take it," I say

Nicki serves, jumping big and landing hard on the court as she follows it through. I'm not sure swift can reach it. But then somehow swift gets high up and manages to smash it back before she falls onto the court.

Daniel sits up, holding his hands behind his head.

Lewis sits forward on the coach.

Tasha is leaning toward the TV.

Liam sits up off the floor, facing the tv entirely now.

I get to my feet.

Nicki's head looks up as the ball arches across the net. She's running backward watching it. Swift, still on the court, is staring at it.

The ball soars through the air and careens down as Nicki rushes for it.

It hits inches past the sideline.

It's out.

Natasha Swift pounds her arms on the court, muttering something that doesn't look particularly nice.

Nicki jumps into the air, screaming at the crowd with delight.

So here it is.

After one year.

Riccardo VS Li

All to play for.