Chapter 4

Hannah Vance POV

After a long silence, Coach Harris waved his hand. "Head back for now. I'll handle this."

I took my phone, turned around, and walked out of the office.

The door clicked shut behind me. I stood in the hallway for a few seconds before heading toward the locker room.

From that day on, I was no longer a worthless trainee in the coach's eyes.

When I pushed open the locker room door on my way back from the coach's office, the chatter inside cut off instantly.

The entire team looked up at me. Nobody spoke; their gazes tracked me all the way from the entrance to the bench.

I set down my racket bag and pulled out a change of clothes, my movements as steady as ever, acting as though those stares didn't exist.

Liam sat on the opposite bench, his legs stretched out long.

He reached out and rummaged through the bag I had left on the bench. Unzipping it, he revealed a bulging white envelope, its seal already torn open.

He glanced at it, didn't ask what it was, zipped the bag back up, and shoved it back to its original spot.

Chloe Vance emerged from the inner room with a water bottle in hand. Catching sight of me, her lips curved slightly, and she spoke right in front of the whole squad.

"Hannah," she said, her voice neither loud nor soft, carrying just enough for the entire room to hear. "Were you just in Coach Harris's office?"

I didn't look up, continuing to fold my clothes.

"I heard," Chloe stepped forward two paces, "that you told Coach Harris my training attitude is lacking, trying to push me off the selection roster?"

The locker room grew even quieter.

A few players exchanged glances. No one spoke, but all eyes were fixed on my reaction.

I finally lifted my head and looked at Chloe Vance.

It was an entirely flat look, stripped of both anger and grievance.

"I didn't," I said.

"You didn't?" Chloe gave a short laugh, though the rims of her eyes reddened. "Then why did Coach Harris suddenly ask about my recent training condition? If it wasn't you, who else could it be? Hannah, I know you've never liked me, but selections are based on skill. You can't slander me just because your own level isn't good enough."

She dipped her head, her fingers tightening around her water bottle.

Several female teammates exchanged glances beside her. Someone muttered under her breath, "That's a bit much," but the voice quickly died down.

Liam stood up.

He walked over, planting himself in front of Chloe Vance, glaring at me with a thunderous expression.

"Hannah Vance," he warned, his voice dropped to a menacing register. "I'm telling you right now, stay away from the trials. If you slander anyone again, don't blame me for fighting back."

I looked at him, remaining silent.

"Did you hear me?" Liam stepped closer, pressing in.

I tucked my folded clothes into my bag, zipped it shut, and rose to my feet.

Hoisting my racket bag, I brushed past Liam, my shoulder grazing his arm without breaking stride.

In the past, whenever I was falsely accused, I would panic, cry, and chase after him to explain until he finally deigned to listen.

Once, when he misunderstood that I was getting close to another boy, I pursued him for three whole days—from the training courts to the cafeteria, from the cafeteria to the front of his dorm—until he was willing to stop and hear me out.

This time, I said nothing, as calm as if I were listening to a stranger's affairs.

In the past, even a single harsh word from him would make my eyes sting with tears. Today, after he had spoken so ruthlessly, my footsteps hadn't even faltered.

His threats held no power over me anymore.