The Badminton and a Racing Heart

Yvienna heard footsteps fading into the distance. Just as she thought she was alone, an inexplicable urge took over her—before she realized it, she was standing just a few feet away from them.

"How many times do I have to tell you? I didn't do that!" Cassandra's voice rang out, sharp with frustration.

"You're being unreasonable! Lay a finger on her again, and I will never forgive you!" Kyle shot back, his tone laced with fury.

Yvienna's breath hitched. Were they talking about her?

"For Pete's sake, Kyle! I already told you—that wasn't me!" Cassandra's voice cracked, but Kyle just rolled his eyes and turned away. Without another word, he walked off, leaving Cassandra standing there, a single tear slipping down her cheek.

Yvienna's gaze followed Kyle as he disappeared down the hall. He wasn't wearing a uniform—just a plain black shirt. A strange pang settled in her chest.

She quickly hid behind a nearby pillar as Cassandra stormed off in the opposite direction. Shaking her head, she snapped back to reality—she was going to be late. Without wasting another second, she rushed to the gym.

"Where did you go, bestie?" Tiffany asked, stepping beside her.

"I just went to the restroom," Yvienna lied, avoiding her gaze.

Tiffany narrowed her eyes in suspicion, but before she could question further, their professor arrived, signaling the start of the lesson.

"Ms. Yvienna, can you try this?" the professor called, handing her a racket. Today's topic was badminton, and he wanted to assess their understanding of the game.

"Your opponent will be Mr. Andrew," he added.

Andrew groaned but lazily stood up, taking the racket from the professor. Yvienna took her position, ready to serve—but instead of the shuttlecock flying, her racket slipped from her grip and went soaring toward Andrew.

"Ouch! Hey!" he yelped as the class erupted into laughter.

"This is how you should grip the racket, Ms. Yvienna," the professor instructed patiently.

Yvienna winced. "Okay, Prof. Sorry, Andrew."

Andrew gave her a lazy smile, shaking his head.

"Let's try again," the professor encouraged.

Determined, Yvienna adjusted her grip and attempted another serve—only for the racket to slip backward this time, hitting someone behind her.

Her eyes widened in horror. "I-I'm sorry!" she rushed to the victim.

"It's okay, Yvi. I just happened to pass by, but I saw that thing coming from my peripheral vision," Nico chuckled.

"Oh! Mr. Sanchez, my apologies for this," the professor interjected. "She's struggling with the racket grip."

Yvienna looked down, embarrassed, as Nico chuckled again.

"If it's okay, I can teach her some techniques," he offered.

As the school's badminton representative, Nico was aiming for the nationals. The professor agreed, and Nico stepped behind Yvienna, guiding her hands into the proper grip. His touch was firm yet gentle.

Yvienna shifted uncomfortably and glanced at her classmates. Her gaze landed on Andrew—his eyes were wide in shock. He looked at his phone, then back at Nico, almost as if he had seen a ghost.

"Do you understand now, Yvi?" Nico asked.

"Yeah," she mumbled. He withdrew his hands and stepped back.

Taking a deep breath, Yvienna focused on the shuttlecock. This time, she hit it cleanly, sending it sailing across the net. Andrew, still distracted, missed it completely.

"You did great, Yvi!" Nico clapped for her.

Yvienna smiled, but something felt off. Her classmates stared at her, eyes wide in disbelief. What was going on?

"Thank you, Mr. Sanchez," the professor said as Nico politely excused himself.

The class continued practicing, and Yvienna took a seat on the bleachers. Just then, a hushed whisper reached her ears.

"I thought she and Kyle were together? So, maybe the rumor is true?"

The whispers stopped abruptly when they felt her gaze, and they quickly pretended to focus on their practice. Yvienna sighed. She felt parched and asked the professor if she could step out to buy water.

At the cafeteria, she grabbed a bottle and turned to leave when a sudden grip on her wrist made her freeze.

"Hey! How dare you—" She spun around, ready to punch whoever grabbed her, but a familiar scent stopped her.

"Ssshh, it's just me," the voice murmured before placing a gentle kiss on her forehead.

Her heart stuttered. "K-Kyle?"

He pulled her into a tight hug, his voice soft. "Are you okay?"