Smash to the Heart

Margo's POV

She returned to the dorm quietly, the match still a heavy weight on her chest. 

Her shoes padded softly against the tiled floors of the hallway, her friends’ voices echoing faintly behind her earlier—but she didn’t look back. 

She couldn’t. 

Not after that.

It was only around 10 AM, the sun still casting golden light through the tall windows of the corridor. 

The day had barely begun, yet to Margo, it already felt too long.

As soon as she reached the room, she unlocked the door with slow, mechanical movements. 

Her body ached, not from the physical toll of the match, but from the mental weight of everything that followed.

She tossed her bag onto the bed and stood there for a while, unmoving. 

Outside, faint cheers from other matches echoed across the campus. S

yra’s semifinals match was probably already starting. 

Miv’s too—she remembered Miv saying she finally made it to the finals. 

That was supposed to be a big deal. 

She should be out there cheering with them. 

But she just didn’t have it in her.

They would understand. Right?

She headed to the bathroom, peeling off her sweat-soaked clothes and stepping into the shower. 

The cold water hit her skin like a wake-up call, but it didn’t snap her out of the haze. She leaned against the wall, eyes closed, letting the water run down her face.

When she stepped out, toweling her hair dry, her phone buzzed.

Dad.
Then, a second later—Mom.

Margo stared at the screen for a second before answering.

“Hello?” she said, her voice flat.

“Finally,” her father’s voice barked through the line. “We’ve been calling since earlier. Where have you been?”

“I was… in the shower,” she muttered.

A pause. Then her mother’s voice cut in, clipped and sharp. “Did you win?”

Margo swallowed. Her fingers clenched the towel at her side. “No. I lost. Finals.”

Another pause. This one heavier.

“I knew it,” her father muttered. “All that training and still—what? You let someone else beat you? What happened, Margo?”

“I did my best,” she said, but it came out quieter than she intended.

“Your best clearly wasn’t enough,” her mother snapped. “You know how important this was for your ranking.”

Margo didn’t reply. She just stared out the window of their dorm room, her vision unfocused.

“Start thinking about what’s next,” her dad said. “We’ll talk when you get home.”

The line went dead.

She placed the phone down on the desk with a quiet thud. 

Her hand lingered there for a second before she climbed into bed without even changing into fresh clothes. 

She pulled the blanket over her, curling onto her side, eyes open.

She didn’t cry. Not this time.

She just stared at the wall, the buzz of the campus continuing outside the window, a reminder that the world kept moving—even when she couldn’t.

—

The sound of laughter and muffled footsteps stirred her awake.

Margo blinked her eyes open, momentarily disoriented. 

The room was bathed in soft afternoon light now, shadows stretching across the floor. 

She slowly sat up, her blanket slipping off her shoulder as she rubbed her eyes.

When her vision cleared, she was met with the sight of three familiar figures standing around her bed—Caia, Miv, and Syra.

“Margo!” Caia gasped, immediately crouching beside her. “You’re awake.”

Syra followed, arms crossed with a slight pout on her face. “You scared us. You just vanished kanina.”

“Kumain ka na ba?” Miv asked, concern written all over her face. “We brought snacks just in case. We figured you’d still be here.”

Margo blinked at them, guilt creeping in. “Sorry… I just—di ko kinaya.”

“Hey,” Caia said softly, her hand brushing Margo’s arm. “You don’t have to explain. Alam namin. We were just worried.”

Margo gave them a weak smile, the warmth of their presence slowly breaking through her emotional fog. “Kamusta matches niyo?”

Miv’s eyes lit up. “I won.” Then she let out a breathless laugh. “As in barely. Si Soleil kalaban ko, and grabe, Margo—halimaw. I thought I was gonna drop dead sa court. Pero naipanalo ko.”

Margo’s eyes widened. “Seriously? Miv, that’s amazing.”

“Thanks,” Miv chuckled. “Pero sayang, di mo napanood. Naiintindihan ka naman namin.”

Syra leaned in, eyes twinkling. “And guess what—ako, finals na bukas.”

“Oh? Sino kalaban mo?” Margo asked.

Syra raised her brows with a sly grin. “Si Jex.”

Margo blinked. “Wait, ‘yung friend ni Aerin?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Syra said proudly, flipping her ponytail. “Kaya watch ka, ha? Ipapapanalo ko ‘to para sa’yo. Para sa brokenhearted naming champ.”

Margo rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the small laugh that escaped her. “Ewan ko sa’yo.”

“Seriyoso ‘ko!” Syra grinned, then softened. “Pero seriously, Margi, andito lang kami ha. Kahit kailan.”

She nodded slowly, the ache in her chest still there—but somehow a little easier to carry with her friends around.

For now, that was enough.

—

Next Day.

The gym was already buzzing with students when she arrived with Caia and Miv. Finals day. 

Syra versus that Aerin's friend—Jex, was it? The energy in the air was different. Heavier. Thicker.

Margo adjusted her jacket and scanned the court, spotting Syra already warming up. 

She had her game face on, focused, no distractions. 

Margo was about to wave when Syra suddenly turned to the bleachers, right at her.

And at that moment, Syra turned toward the crowd—toward Margo—and grinned. 

“MARGO!” she shouted loudly, both hands cupped over her mouth. “Para sa’yo ‘to, okay?!”

Everyone turned their heads.

Margo’s face flushed, her lips twitching at the unexpected callout. 

She slumped back slightly, hand covering her eyes. “Grabe ‘tong babaeng ‘to,” she muttered with an embarrassed smile.

Caia and Miv burst out laughing.

“Syra never misses,” Miv snorted. “Iconic.”

Syra winked across the court at Margo, who gave her a thumbs-up in return.

That was Syra, all heart and no filter.

—

The match started.

And everything else faded.

Margo leaned forward, hands clasped tightly between her knees. 

The first few rallies were wild. Jex was fast—like, really fast—but Syra was relentless. 

She attacked the net, pushed the backcourt, made risky plays. 

Every point had Margo holding her breath.

3–3.
5–6.
8–8.

The gym was tense with every shift in the scoreboard.

Syra’s body moved like it was made for this sport. Quick, fluid, sharp. Every flick of her wrist, every pivot of her foot—it wasn’t just skill. It was grit.

Jex, though, was steady. She read Syra’s movements well and countered with flawless technique. The score kept climbing neck and neck.

10–10.

Margo bit her lip. Her hands were already sweating. She glanced at Caia and Miv—both on the edge of their seats, too. None of them spoke. It was like breathing too loudly might ruin Syra’s rhythm.

But Syra wasn’t folding. She didn’t even look rattled.

Then came a tense rally—probably the longest of the match so far. Back and forth. Smash, drop, smash, net roll. Jex dove to save a shuttle that skidded dangerously close to the floor, got it back just in time.

Syra jumped. Full power. One final smash.

Point.

12–10.

Margo couldn’t help it. She stood up and clapped hard, heart racing. “Let’s go, Syra!”

Syra didn’t look, but Margo swore she saw the corner of her lips twitch into a smile.

More rounds passed. Every serve was a war. Jex wasn’t going down easy. She kept the pressure high, evened the score again.

18–18.

“Syra, come on,” Margo whispered under her breath. “Kaya mo ’yan…”

Then it happened. A misstep from Jex. Syra flicked the shuttle right to the back corner. Clean.

19–18.

Margo stood again.

Match point.

The entire gym held its breath. No one even moved.

Syra served. Jex caught it and returned with a fast crosscourt shot. Syra lunged, saved it. Jex smashed it. Syra countered. Back and forth—blurs of motion.

Then Syra did what Syra always did in the clutch.

She dropped it. Perfect angle. Just over the net. Jex lunged—

Too late.

The shuttle hit the floor.

21–19. Game.

There was a second of silence, then—

Explosion.

Cheers.

Screams.

 North Hills students flooding the court. 

Margo didn’t even realize her legs were moving until she was running, too.

Syra dropped her racket and turned right to her.

“Margo!”

And Margo caught her mid-jump.

Syra threw her arms around her, legs lifting off the ground as Margo held her tight, spinning her once.

“You did it,” Margo said, her voice breathless.

“Para sa’yo talaga ’yon, swear,” Syra laughed, holding her tighter.

They were both panting. Laughing. Shaking. 

The gym was alive, but all Margo could feel was Syra in her arms—warm, triumphant, radiant.

“You’re insane,” Margo muttered into her shoulder, still catching her breath. “But I’m proud of you.”

Syra leaned back and grinned. “I told you. Hindi ako papayag na lahat talo.”

Margo didn’t answer. She just hugged her again.

Behind them, Caia and Miv finally caught up, wrapping both of them in a sweaty, laughing group hug. 

Margo smiled against the noise, feeling—for the first time in a while—like maybe the world wasn’t crashing after all.

Syra won.

And somehow, that was enough for now.