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Despite my relentless efforts, Letty manages to find her rhythm and break my serve once again. The second set slips from my grasp as Letty holds her serve, taking a 5-3 lead.
“Set point.” Letty’s set point.
Despite my best efforts to fight back, Letty remains solid and serves out the set, winning it 6-3.
A wave of disappointment washes over me as I realize that I’ve let the second set slip away. However, I know that dwelling on it too much won’t help me in the third set. I take a deep breath, refocus my mind, and draw upon my confidence.
Letty’s a champion. Of course she was going to recuperate the second set.
That’s fine; she hasn’t won yet.
I still have a chance and I’m going to try my hardest to win this.
One more set, one more chance.
With the match hanging in balance, the third set becomes a battle of endurance and mental fortitude. The crowd’s anticipation reaches a fever pitch as we resume to play.
I start the third set with everything in me. I unleash a series of powerful shots, dictating the rallies and keeping Letty on her toes. The crowd’s cheers grow louder as I hold my serve, taking a 1-0 lead.
The silence becomes louder and louder.
Letty fights back, refusing to let the match slip away. She finds her rhythm and unleashes a flurry of winners. Despite her onslaught, I stay focused, determined to regain control. I save multiple breakpoints and hold my serve, maintaining a slim 2-0 lead.
The pressure intensifies as the set progresses. Both Letty and I raise our level of play, engaging in intense baseline battles. The momentum shifts back and forth as each point becomes crucial. With unwavering resolve, I manage to break Letty’s serve, extending my lead to 3-0.
Letty is not one to back down easily, yet I see the way her jaw clenches as she realizes this match is slipping out of her grasp. She fights back, hitting hard forehands, which forces me to dig deep to return them. The crowd watches in awe as we engage in long rallies, both refusing to give an inch. Despite Letty’s efforts, I hold my serve, widening the gap to 4-0.
Letty desperately tries to regain her footing, but I remain composed. With each stroke, I aim to push her further out of her comfort zone. I break Letty’s serve once again, taking a commanding 5-0 lead.
The end is within reach, but I know I can’t let it get to me. Letty, undeterred, fights back with everything she has. I dig deep, drawing upon every reserve of strength and focus.
I’m not thinking. I don’t even think about this being the winning serve. I just play.
I throw the ball into the air, letting my hands curve once it flies. Taking my racket, I hit the ball with so much force that I didn’t know was possible. I’m tired, but that serve is the most powerful I’ve hit in the match. It falls over the net right next to Letty. She’s standing inside the back line. It bounces up into the air fast, and she can’t catch it.
It’s as if I blacked out the whole match because I don’t realize it when it happens.
I go to play another game, but the whole crowd has broken out in cheers.
I’m confused for a second until I realize.
We’re 6-0.
My eyes widen as I look out into the crowd in disbelief.
I just won Wimbledon.
My hand flies over my mouth. Oh my God.
That just happened and I didn’t even realize it.
I look into the crowd for the one person I want to see the most. My box is going crazy, Sofia is crying, and Cleo jumps on Chanel. But Xavier is screaming in joy, jumping up and down by himself with his hands running through his hair in disbelief.
I smile at him and it’s as if he can feel it.
Our gazes connect, and once his brown eyes are on mine, the whole crowd disappears.
My gaze always finds him, as if he’s the lighthouse in the middle of a storm.
