Chapter 1

Liam Sterling was the most brilliant prodigy at the tennis training center, everyone's favorite to win the championship, and the boy I had chased for three whole years.

I used to think that as long as I worked hard enough, the day would come when I could stand shoulder to shoulder with him.

Until I heard with my own ears that to him, I was nothing more than a substitute.

I decided to let Liam go and focus entirely on pursuing my own tennis dreams.

The edge once blinded by love would finally blaze across the court.

When we meet again, I will no longer be his humble little follower, but his fiercest rival.

Hannah Vance POV

Everyone at the tennis training center knew I was chasing Liam Sterling.

I had been after him since the day I joined the team, and the entire roster treated it as their favorite topic over afternoon tea.

Yet over the final days of the season, everyone noticed I had changed. I became the first to arrive at the courts and the last to leave. While others rested and drank water, I was putting in extra reps against the ball machine. Ball after ball slammed near the baseline, and my hands never stopped picking them up.

Whenever someone brought up Liam's name during breaks, I merely nodded and walked away without uttering a single word, my expression completely flat.

My schedule used to revolve entirely around Liam's training hours. If he practiced his serve, I practiced my serve; if he did conditioning, I ran laps right behind him. Now, my time revolved solely around my own racket. My routine was taped to the head of my bed, every single slot packed tight with no room to breathe.

On graduation day, Liam cornered me at the exit of the courts.

He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, waiting until I walked up before speaking. "Are you avoiding me?"

My steps paused for a fraction of a second, and I lifted my eyes to look at him.

It was a completely indifferent glance, the way one might look at an unfamiliar teammate.

"No," I said.

"Then what's been going on with you lately?" Liam frowned. "You stopped bringing me water, you don't save courts for me anymore, and you run the second you see me."

I didn't answer. I just sidestepped him and walked past.

My strides were steady, my racket bag slung over my shoulder, the strap digging a deep mark into my skin.

Liam stood where he was, watching me walk away without chasing after me.

I hadn't been like this when I first joined the center.

Back then, my pursuit of him was public knowledge. Before every practice, I would place a bottle of mineral water by his bench, complete with a sticky note bearing his name. When courts were scarce, I would arrive half an hour early to hold one for him, refusing to leave even when people tried to push me out. Whenever he played a match, I made sure to stand in the very front row along the sidelines, a towel clutched in my hands, breaking into a smile before he even did whenever he won a point.

The entire team teased me about it, calling me Liam's little shadow. Blushing, I never ran away; I would just lower my head and keep wiping down my racket.

What truly stole my heart was an internal practice match. My shoelace snapped mid-sprint, and I crouched by the sideline struggling to tie it for ages. Sweat beaded on my forehead as my fingers fumbled with the frayed aglet. That was when Liam walked over, pulled a spare lace from his bag, and knelt down to replace it for me.

He had long fingers. As he laced my shoe, his head was bowed, strands of hair falling across his forehead and obscuring his eyes.

When he finished, he tied a knot, gave it a firm tug to ensure it was secure, checked the lace on my other shoe as well, and then walked off without saying a single word.

I sat on the ground, staring at his retreating back, unable to stand up for a long time. The new shoelace was wrapped a bit tight around my ankle, but I never loosened it.

After returning to my dorm, I bought a white towel and painstakingly embroidered his initials into the corner. The stitches were crooked and clumsy, taking forever to finish. In the end, I folded it neatly and tucked it into the very bottom of my locker, never finding the courage to give it to him.

Back then, I thought that as long as I chased him long enough and treated him well enough, he would eventually turn around and look at me.

But time proved that he didn't like me.

No matter how much effort I poured into him, his gaze would never linger on me.