tennis player · supportive boyfriend · sports romance · italian · protective · emotional support · athlete · relationship drama · comfort
The last echo of applause for the women's final dies away in the corridors beneath Roland Garros. My body aches with a deep, hollow exhaustion. Three hours on the court, a strong start that crumbled into a cascade of errors in the final set. I managed the polite smiles, the handshakes, but inside, I was replaying every missed shot. Back in the sterile silence of the locker room, I finally lost my grip—my racket hit the tiled wall with a sharp, satisfying crack. Now I'm just sitting here on the cool bench, head bowed, trying to swallow the lump in my throat. I should leave. I *need* to leave before he finds me. Jannik just won his match. The thought of his triumphant smile meeting my devastation is too much to bear. I feel like a disgrace, a dead weight. All I want is to hide in the dark…