As I stepped off the team bus, a wave of nervous energy coursed through me, mingling with the crisp air. Today was the day—it felt both exhilarating and suffocating.
Beside me, Baihe adjusted her bag, her expression calm but focused.
"Feeling ready?" she asked, her tone light.
I managed a small smile. "As ready as I'll ever be."
Her grin widened. "You've got this, Taryn. Just remember—run with heart, not fear."
Her words echoed my grandmother's advice from the night before, and I let them settle over me like armor. But as we joined the rest of the team, the weight of the day pressed down harder.
The crowd was already gathering, their cheers and chatter filling the stadium with a charged energy.
My muscles felt tight, uncooperative, as if my body had forgotten everything it had trained for. Around me, other athletes moved with practiced ease, their focus unshakable.
Yize, who'd been unusually quiet during the bus ride, shot me a glance as he jogged past.
"Don't choke," he muttered, low enough that only I could hear.
My jaw tightened, and I forced myself to take a deep breath. Baihe had been right—Yike's doubts didn't define me. But the comment still stung, and I could feel the familiar shadow of self-doubt creeping in.
Coach Ling clapped his hands, gathering us in a circle.
"Alright, team. This is it. You've put in the work. Now it's time to show everyone what you're made of. Remember—talent gets you to the start line, but grit gets you to the finish. Let's make it count."
His words steadied me, if only a little. As we broke the huddle, Baihe caught my eye and gave me a nod. I latched onto her confidence, letting it anchor me as we headed to the starting line.
The tension within the team came to a head during the 4x400 relay lineup. Coach Ling's strategy placed me as the third runner—a crucial position that would determine the baton handoff to Baihe, our anchor. Yike, running second, seemed less than thrilled about the arrangement.
As we waited for our turn, he muttered under his breath, loud enough for me to catch. "Hope you don't drag us down."
I turned to face him, my eyes narrowing.
"If you've got something to say, just say it."
He shrugged, feigning innocence.
"No pressure, Taryn. Just saying the whole team's counting on you."
Before I could respond, Baihe stepped between us, her gaze sharp.
"Enough, Yike. Focus on your own race."
The tension crackled like static electricity, but I forced myself to block it out. This wasn't the time for petty rivalries. I had a job to do, and I wasn't about to let him—or my own doubts—get in the way.
The first two runners lined up at the start line as the announcer's voice boomed through the stadium. The air buzzed with anticipation, and my heart thumped in rhythm with the starter pistol's countdown. When the gun fired, the race began, and everything else fell away.
Watching our first runner take off, I felt a surge of adrenaline. The baton passed smoothly to Yike, who sprinted with his usual precision. But as he neared the final stretch of his leg, I noticed something—his pace was faltering. The athlete from the neighboring team was closing the gap, his strides long and relentless.
"Come on, Yike!" Baihe shouted, her voice cutting through the roar of the crowd.
He managed to hold his lead, but only barely. When he reached me, his handoff was rushed and sloppy, and for a split second, I fumbled the baton. My heart jumped into my throat as I regained my grip, the slight delay costing us precious seconds.
Pushing off with everything I had, I focused on closing the distance. My legs burned, my lungs screamed, but I refused to let the mistake define the race.
The crowd's cheers blurred into a distant roar as I zeroed in on the runner ahead of me, their team's second place position a tantalizing target.
Step by step, I gained ground, each stride fueled by determination and the memory of Baihe's unwavering belief in me.
And then I saw them.
Jia and Devon, standing off to the side, their presence unmistakable even in the crowded stands. My heart skipped a beat, a mix of shock and something un-nameable flooding through me. They hadn't said they were coming—not once. But there they were, alongside Grandma and Grandpa, who looked happier than I'd seen them in a long time.
Jia, waved at me with a warm smile that softened the edges of my anxiety. Devon gave me a thumbs-up, his usual laid-back demeanor replaced with something akin to pride.
The sight of them cheering for me was both uplifting and unsettling. It was their third time attending one of my competitions, but this one felt different. Unexpected.
When I crossed the finish line, the world seemed to pause. My chest heaved as I gasped for air, the sound of my heartbeat drowning out everything else. And then, the applause broke through, loud and unrelenting. I had done it. I had given everything I had.
As I made my way back to the sidelines, Jia and Devon were waiting for me, their faces lit up with pride. Grandma and Grandpa stood nearby, their smiles wide and genuine. For a moment, all the doubts faded, replaced by a warmth that only family could bring.
I turned to Devon and Jia, unsure of what to expect.
Devon was the first to break the ice, offering me a crooked grin. "So," he said, holding out his fist for a bump, "you're not just a runner—you're a champion. Guess I have to admit you're cooler than I thought."
Jia stepped forward, her polished demeanor softening as she hugged me.
"I guess you really showed us what you're made of," she said, her voice tinged with admiration. "This was your moment, and you owned it."
Her words hit me harder than I expected. For so long, I'd measured myself against her and Devon, feeling like I didn't belong in the same league. But standing here now, their pride and recognition felt like validation—not for being like them, but for being me.
"Not bad, second sister. Not bad at all."
"Maybe if you showed up to more of her practices, you'd understand how much work she puts in," Jia said, her tone sharp.
Devon raised an eyebrow. "Wait, I just cheered for her. And maybe if you stopped micromanaging everything, she wouldn't feel so much pressure."
I glanced between them, my excitement dimming as their argument unfolded. This wasn't what I wanted—not today, not here. Their conflict, while rooted in their love for me, felt like a storm cloud on an otherwise sunny day.
"Enough," I said, my voice firmer than I expected. "Can we just enjoy this moment? Please?"
They both looked at me, their expressions softening. Jia sighed, and Devon gave me an apologetic nod.