Smash to the Heart

Aerin's POV

Aerin adjusted the grip of her towel around her neck as she stepped off the court, heart still racing from the adrenaline. 

Her body ached in all the usual places—arms, calves, shoulders—but it was nothing she wasn’t used to.

 She should’ve been content. 

She just won.

She should’ve been.

But her jaw was still clenched.

What bothered her wasn’t the match—it was clean, intense, hard-fought. 

It wasn’t even the fact that it went to a third set with a deuce. 

No, what stuck with her, what kept looping in her head like a glitch, was the moment right after the final point.

She had walked to the net like she always did. 

Raised her hand out. 

Expected at least a quick handshake.

But Margo just glanced and nodded at her. Just dropped to her knees, then walked off.

No sportsmanship. No “good game.” Not even eye contact.

Aerin clicked her tongue.

“Tsk. Ayos,” she muttered under her breath.

Soleil appeared beside her, offering a water bottle. “Here. You okay?”

“Yeah. Fine,” she replied flatly, wiping her face. “Galing no'ng match, ‘di ba?”

“Mhm,” Soleil nodded. “Pero... ‘di siya nag-shake hands?”

Aerin scoffed lightly. “Apparently, hindi uso sa kanya ’yon.”

“Maybe she’s just upset?” Galey said, coming up behind them. “Finals naman ‘yon.”

“Lahat tayo upset kapag natalo,” Aerin said, arms crossed now. “Pero hindi excuse para bastusin ‘yung match. Kung may pride ka sa laro mo, dapat may respeto ka rin kahit matalo.”

Jex chuckled under her breath. “That’s one way to get under your skin.”

Aerin exhaled through her nose, annoyed. 

She didn’t care if Margo was having a moment. 

At the end of the day, they were athletes—and there were certain things you just did out of respect. 

And one of those was acknowledging your opponent.

“I don’t need a thank you,” Aerin muttered, pulling her hoodie over her head. “Pero konting respect sana.”

She started walking off with her bag, the chatter of the crowd still buzzing behind her. 

But her mind kept circling back to that last look—no, lack of a look.

“So, Castellen. If that's how you play, okay. I’ll remember that.”

Aerin didn’t say it out loud.

But she already knew: this rivalry wasn’t over.

Not even close.

—

After the quick ceremony and some half-hearted pats on the back, Aerin ducked away from the crowd. 

She needed space—space to breathe, to curse under her breath, to shake off the lingering irritation clinging to her skin like sweat.

She headed toward her usual post-match spot, tucked behind the tennis courts. 

It wasn’t much—just a bench hidden by trees—but it was hers. 

A place to clear her head after every game.

But as she stepped into the clearing, she stopped short.

Margo was there.

Of course she was.

Slumped on the bench like she owned the place, face unreadable, like the match hadn’t just happened.

Aerin didn’t move. 

She stared.

 Margo’s eyes slowly flicked up, meeting hers—blank, unbothered.

Great.

Aerin scoffed quietly and walked forward anyway. 

If Margo thought she’d leave just because she was there, she clearly didn’t know her.

Margo glanced sideways. “Figures.”

“What does?” Aerin asked coldly.

“This. You showing up. Can’t even lose me after the match.”

“I could say the same thing,” Aerin said, arms crossed. “Didn’t realize you’d be sulking in a spot that isn’t yours.”

“I didn’t realize you were territorial over benches.”

“It’s not about the bench. It’s about how you stormed off like a sore loser.”

Margo’s jaw tightened. “I didn’t storm off.”

“You didn’t shake my hand. You didn’t even acknowledge the match. That’s basic sportsmanship.”

“I didn’t feel like pretending,” Margo snapped. “I lost. I was pissed. You expecting a fake smile?”

“I’m expecting professionalism,” Aerin fired back. “You’re not the only one who works hard.”

“Oh, please,” Margo said, standing now. “You think I care what you expect?”

“No, but maybe you should. Kasi kung ganito ka every time you lose, good luck surviving in the sport.”

Margo stepped closer, eyes narrowed. “You think you’re above me just because you won once?”

“Once?” Aerin laughed, dry. “I’ve been ahead of you since day one. You just refused to see it.”

Margo’s nostrils flared. “You’re full of yourself.”

“And you’re full of excuses.”

The tension hung heavy between them—no soft glances, no silent understanding. 

Just unfiltered, unrelenting irritation.

Suddenly, a sharp noise of a whistle sliced through the trees.

“Hoy! Sinong nandiyan? Bawal na sa area na ‘to!”

A security guard’s voice rang out.

They both instinctively turned their heads, frozen for a second.

Aerin shot Margo a glare. “Nice. Now we’re both gonna get scolded.”

Again.

Margo rolled her eyes. “Your fault for following me.”

“Your fault for existing.”

The guard’s voice grew louder, and they both started walking—fast, in opposite directions.

Still not looking back.

Still fuming.

Still rivals.