The sharp, rhythmic clash of sabres echoed throughout the room, filling the air with tension until, suddenly, everything went silent. My breathing was heavy, almost ragged, as I lunged forward, extending my sabre with one last burst of energy. In that instant, a storm of emotions surged through me: fear, anxiety, adrenaline—all swirling together in a single, overwhelming moment. Then, with a final, decisive strike, I landed the last point on my opponent.
The referee raised his hand, signalling the end of the match.
I stood there for a moment, stunned, before slowly removing my helmet. As I did, the crowd erupted into cheers and applause. A wave of relief washed over me as I exhaled deeply. I had done it, I had won the fencing championship.
Still buzzing from the adrenaline, I stepped out of the indoor arena where the championship had taken place, my hard-earned medal in one hand and a bouquet of flowers as gifts from friends and family in the other.
"Steph, you seriously have some mad skills! I mean, the way you were swinging and moving out there, I could never!" Andrea exclaimed, throwing one arm casually around my shoulder as we walked.
I grinned, nudging her slightly. "We've already established this, Andrea. I'm the sporty one, and you're the voice."
"Not to mention, she also makes out-of-this-world food and pastries," Stella chimed in.
"Exactly! I one hundred percent agree with Stella," Andrea said, nodding enthusiastically.
"When do you not?" Stella replied, rolling her eyes playfully.
"Shhh, Ella. This is not about you," Andrea teased.
"Thank God," Summer interjected dramatically. "For once, we're not talking about how great Stella is."
"Excuse you, Summer—I am great, and you all know it," Stella retorted, flipping her hair.
Later that evening, we gathered at our clubhouse—yes, we actually had a clubhouse. We had found it back in middle school, and over time, it had become our sanctuary. We practically lived there when we weren't at school or home.
I had just come out of the bathroom when Summer handed me my phone.
"Your mom called," she said casually.
I checked the time at 6:45 PM. Right on schedule. She called again just as I was about to dial back.
"Hey, Mom," I answered.
"Another flawless victory, I heard," she said, though her voice held a hint of concern.
"Yep. And once again, you sound more disappointed than proud."
"Why would I be disappointed? You won a championship."
"Then what's with the frown?"
"I'm frowning because I can see how exhausted you are. You're overworking yourself, Steph. You're only nineteen. Nothing bad will happen if you lose once in a while. Losing is part of life—you have to learn to embrace it."
"I know, Mom. You've told me that like a hundred times."
"And yet, you don't listen. If you keep pushing yourself like this, you're going to burn out."
"Well, if it makes you feel better, I'm taking a break. No competitions for the next two, maybe three months. I'll use that time to rest, recharge, and actually take care of myself."
"That does make me feel better. And you better not be lying to me, Stephanie."
"I promise, Mom. I'm not."
"Good. I've got to go now. Take care of yourself, and keep your word. I love you."
"I love you too," I said softly before ending the call.
I headed back downstairs where the girls were curled up on beanbags and couches, watching a movie. I plopped down next to Rudy, who silently passed me the popcorn she was munching on.
"What did your mom say?" she whispered.
"Same stuff she always says," I replied, tossing a handful of popcorn into my mouth.
"Okay," she said quietly, eyes fixed on the screen.
The room was dimly lit with string lights we'd wrapped around the ceiling beams years ago. Stella had her feet in Summer's lap, Andrea was dramatically quoting movie lines under her breath, and Astrid had finally picked up her camera again, quietly snapping photos of us in our element laughing, lounging, living. Rudy curled into my side, small and warm, like a little cat.
I leaned back into the worn cushions, a soft sigh escaping me. For the first time in weeks, I wasn't thinking about tournaments, training, or expectations. I wasn't chasing a win or carrying the weight of perfection on my shoulders.
I was just... here.
With my girls. In our clubhouse. Sharing snacks, secrets, and silence.
And that felt like the biggest victory of all.