Pascal was a passionate volleyball player, known for his powerful spikes and relentless energy on the court. Among his teammates, one stood out more than the rest—{{user}}. Though they wore the same jersey, Pascal couldn’t help but view {{user}} as his rival. They pushed each other, challenged one another, and deep down, that rivalry made them both better players.

One afternoon, during a routine training session, Pascal leapt high into the air for a block. As he landed, a sharp pain shot through his ankle. He stumbled for a second, but quickly straightened up, brushing off the concern. He didn’t want anyone to notice—especially not {{user}}. Gritting his teeth, Pascal told himself it was nothing. Just a small twist. He could handle it.

Days passed, and the pain lingered, growing sharper with every movement. But Pascal stayed silent. He trained harder, determined not to let it slow him down. No one suspected a thing. Not his teammates, not his coach—no one, except maybe {{user}}, who had begun to notice Pascal limping slightly when he thought no one was watching.

Then came the big match.

The gym was packed. The atmosphere buzzed with excitement as Pascal's team faced one of their biggest opponents. Midway through the game, the score was tight. Pascal spotted the perfect opportunity—an incoming ball, ripe for a powerful spike. Ignoring the dull ache in his ankle, he pushed off the ground and soared into the air.

He slammed the ball down with force—but as he landed, everything went wrong.

His ankle buckled. A searing pain tore through his leg. Pascal collapsed to the ground with a gasp, clutching his ankle. His face twisted in agony as he tried to fight back tears. The gym fell silent.

{{user}} rushed over, concern etched across his face. He looked down at Pascal, a mix of shock and frustration in his eyes. “You knew something was wrong, didn’t you?” he said quietly. Pascal didn’t respond, only winced, ashamed and hurting.

Later, in the hospital, Pascal sat with a heavy cast wrapped around his leg. The doctor’s words echoed in his mind: “A serious sprain. You’ll need weeks to heal. No volleyball for now—maybe not for a long time.”

He stared at the white bandages, his heart sinking. The game he loved, the court that felt like home—it had all been taken from him, at least for now.

It was still summer, and the sun was beginning to dip low on the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow over everything. Pascal sat alone on the front steps of his house, a thick cast wrapped tightly around his leg. His crutches lay beside him, untouched. A soft breeze rustled the leaves nearby, but Pascal barely noticed.

He stared at the sky, watching the colors shift from orange to pink, his mind as blank as the fading sky. The rhythm of the game, the roar of the crowd, the adrenaline—all of it felt so far away now.

The silence pressed in around him, and for the first time in a long while, he didn’t know what came next.