Chapter 3: The Match for a Heart

They didn’t notice me. They were always at the center of things, drawing attention without even trying. I was on the path outside the stadium; they were on the center court, playing tennis. Matt wore a crisp white shirt. Opposite him, Savannah had on a white tee and a pink pleated skirt, all sunshine and Instagram-perfect. Just standing there, they looked like a match made for TikTok.

I watched quietly for a while, then left.

I lingered at the edge of the court, hidden behind the bleachers, just watching. For a moment, I let myself see what everyone else must see—a golden couple, all smiles and easy laughter in the late afternoon light. My chest tightened, so I turned away before the ache could turn into something uglier.

On the way back, Rachel’s words echoed in my mind. As wild as they sounded, my breakup with Matt had come out of nowhere, abrupt and inexplicable. He’d brought it up out of the blue.

The day before, we were still talking about summer travel plans. He wanted Miami, I wanted Lake Tahoe. We argued, half-joking, and finally, under the old oak tree by the dorm, he said, "Tahoe’s too much hiking. I’m afraid you’ll get worn out."

I hugged him around the waist, looking up at him. He smelled fresh, like mint and laundry detergent. I grinned, "With you, I’m not afraid."

He frowned, pretending to be put out, but his eyes were soft. "You’re always sweet-talking me."

In the end, he caved: "We’ll go wherever you want."

I laughed. I remember glancing back at him before I went inside. He stood under the oak tree, tall and relaxed, smiling at me with that gentle look that made my heart skip.

The summer breeze was thick with the scent of cut grass. He waved, urging me to hurry in. I thought it was just another ordinary goodbye, and that the next day he’d show up as usual.

But I didn’t know then that it would be our last normal moment for a long time.

Because the next day, he stood in front of me, his expression gentle but strange, his dark eyes like the night, hiding something I couldn’t read. He said, "Erin, let’s break up."

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I remember staring at him, waiting for him to laugh, to say it was a joke. But he didn’t. The silence between us stretched on, heavy and final.

To be honest, my first reaction was disbelief. It felt like a bad dream. If I woke up, everything would go back to normal.

I kept replaying his words in my head, hoping I’d misheard. My hands shook, but I forced myself to stand tall, refusing to let him see me break.

But then I saw Savannah standing behind him—the beautiful, tall dance department star who’d chased Matt for so long. She stood there, chin lifted, looking at me with a mix of pity and satisfaction, as if she were bestowing charity on a defeated rival.

Her eyes sparkled with triumph, and she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, almost as if she were posing for a photo. I wanted to roll my eyes, but my throat was too tight.

My mind spun, but I have one strength: the more panicked I am, the calmer I appear. I dug my nails into my palm and looked at Matt.

I asked, "What did you say? You’re breaking up with me for Savannah?"

My voice came out steadier than I felt. I searched his face for any sign of regret, any hint that this was just a mistake.

I’d never seen him like this. His handsome face was strained, his brows knit, his eyes confused, but he quickly regained his composure. He seemed not to understand his own feelings, but after a pause, he said, "Yes, Erin, I’m sorry. I just... suddenly fell for Savannah. I hesitated for a long time, but I thought I should be honest with you."

There was a strange emptiness in his voice, like he was reading from a script. I pressed my back against the wall, needing something solid to hold me up.

I clung to the wall to steady myself, the cool cinderblock grounding me as everything else spun.

The story should have ended there, clean and simple. But I was young, and our years together weren’t so easy to let go. I refused to accept the breakup.

I told myself it was just a phase, that he’d come to his senses. I started rehearsing all the things I’d say to win him back. My pride wouldn’t let me walk away so easily.

Later, Savannah asked to meet me. She challenged me to a tennis match: best of three, winner gets Matt. If she won, I’d let go and break up with him.

Looking back, it’s absurd. My own boyfriend, and I had to win a match to keep him. If a man’s heart has changed, there’s nothing you can do. It’s better to let go. Winning or losing meant nothing. But at the time, I was too caught up to see clearly, so I agreed without thinking. I’d been playing tennis since I was a kid. I even warned Savannah that I was almost a pro, but she just smiled and said it didn’t matter.

So we played.

The court was blazing hot, the sun bouncing off the painted lines, sweat trickling down my back. The air was thick with tension, every serve and return echoing off the hardcourt. The ball cracked against my racket, my muscles burning with every swing. People gathered around, whispering, but I tuned them out. It was just me and Savannah, and everything else faded away.

As expected, I crushed her. She could barely return a shot. Matt showed up during the match, standing just outside the fence, arms folded, his expression unreadable. After the first set, Savannah nearly collapsed. He frowned and walked over to me, saying, "Hey, take it easy, okay?"