The stadium had finally settled.
Not quiet—never quiet—but the chaotic movement of the opening ceremony had given way to a different kind of energy. Athletes were no longer marching. Flags were no longer waving in unison. Now, everything felt focused. Heavy. Purposeful.
Dayo sat with his teammates, towel draped loosely around his neck, elbows resting on his knees as he stared out toward the pool. The water shimmered under the stadium lights, perfectly still, almost mocking in its calmness. This was it. The Olympics had officially begun—not with fireworks or music, but with schedules, tension, and the silent understanding that every second mattered.
His coach stood a few steps away, tablet in hand.
Dayo noticed it immediately.
The coach's face.
It wasn't panic. It wasn't anger either. It was something more restrained—something between disbelief and amusement. His lips were pressed together, corners twitching as if he was trying very hard not to react.
