Dagrit Mada

The night before the biggest competition of his life, David sat at the hotel room window, his silhouette framed by the dim glow of the stadium lights across the street. The track stretched out like a silent challenge, every curve and lane etched into his mind after years of training. He should've felt ready, confident. Instead, the weight of the past clawed at him, pulling him under. His fists clenched on his lap, muscles tense with the tension he couldn't shake.

Behind him, the room felt too quiet. His thoughts filled the space, echoes of his mother's betrayal replaying in jagged fragments. The cold, clinical discussions of missing funds. The hollow apologies, her promises never kept. He could still hear the cheers from a crowd that wasn't for him—back when he was competing for validation he would never receive from her.

His chest tightened. He hadn't told Sarah everything, not the raw details, but she knew enough. She could sense when the ghosts started whispering.

Soft footsteps broke the silence. Sarah lingered in the doorway for a moment, watching him. The way his shoulders slumped, how his breath came shallow—she knew this place he was in. Quietly, she crossed the room and sat beside him on the edge of the bed. The mattress shifted slightly beneath her weight, and for a brief second, the movement grounded him.

"David," her voice was a gentle murmur, coaxing him out of his thoughts. She rested her hand on his knee, a subtle anchor pulling him back to the present. "You've been staring at that track for an hour. What's going on?"

He inhaled deeply, eyes still fixed on the stadium. "I can't stop thinking about her," he admitted, his voice tight. "About everything she did. It's like... no matter how far I get, it's always there, waiting to pull me down."

Sarah's fingers curled around his knee, firm but tender. "She can't touch you now," she said softly, but her words carried a quiet strength. "You've already broken free from all of that. Look at where you are, David. Tomorrow, you're stepping onto that track, not because of her, but because of you, your journey."

David turned, finally meeting her eyes. There was a storm of emotions behind his gaze—fear, anger, vulnerability. "What if I can't focus?" His voice cracked, the weight of his doubt spilling out. "What if... after everything... I fail?"

Sarah leaned closer, her eyes never leaving his. "David," she whispered, her breath warm against his cheek. "You've been fighting your whole life. Against expectations, against betrayal. You've faced down bigger battles than this one. Tomorrow isn't about her. It's about you—about proving to yourself that none of that can hold you back anymore."

He swallowed hard, her words sinking in. But the fear still lingered, gnawing at the edges. "I want to believe that," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "But it's hard. It's so damn hard."

Sarah's hand slid up to his cheek, her thumb brushing away the tension in his jaw. "I know it is," she said, her eyes soft but unwavering. "But you don't have to do it alone. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere." She paused, leaning in closer, her forehead resting lightly against his. "We're in this together."

David's breath hitched, the warmth of her touch steadying him. He closed his eyes, the room around them fading into the background. For the first time that night, he allowed himself to feel the safety in her presence—the way she could pull him back from the edge with just a touch, a word.

"I don't know what I'd do without you," he murmured, his voice barely audible.

"You don't have to know," she replied softly, her lips grazing his in a tender, lingering kiss. "Because you'll never be without me."

The tension in his chest eased, his breathing slowing as her words wrapped around him like a shield. When she pulled back, he held onto her, his forehead resting against hers, their breaths mingling in the quiet. "Thank you," he whispered.

She smiled against his skin, brushing her thumb gently over his lips. "You've got this, David. And when you're out there tomorrow... remember that it's not about anyone else. It's about you."

"You're not just racing for a medal. You're racing for yourself " Sarah added, and they both embraced each other.

The storm within David is settling. For the first time in hours, he felt a flicker of clarity. He wasn't fighting alone anymore.

The next day, as David stepped onto the Olympic track, the world seemed to slow. The familiar hum of the stadium, the thrum of the crowd, all faded into a distant murmur. His heart pounded in his chest, but it wasn't from nerves—it was from anticipation. The weight of his past still lingered like a shadow, but it no longer chained him. Sarah's words from the night before echoed in his mind, her unwavering belief wrapping around him like armor.

"You're not just racing for a medal. You're racing for yourself," she had said.

He closed his eyes for a split second, drawing in a deep breath, feeling the crisp air fill his lungs. He could almost feel Sarah beside him, her hand squeezing his, her steady presence anchoring him. It was all he needed. He opened his eyes, locking in on the track ahead. This wasn't just a race—it was the culmination of years of pain, perseverance, and grit.

The starter pistol cracked through the air. David burst from the blocks, his legs churning with purpose. Every muscle in his body fired, his focus sharp and unyielding. Each stride was calculated, powerful. He could feel the burn in his lungs, the ache in his legs, but none of it mattered. The world around him blurred, the roars of the crowd reduced to a distant hum. All that existed was the track beneath his feet and the finish line ahead.

He pushed harder, faster, his body moving in perfect sync with his mind. In the back of his thoughts, he heard Sarah's voice—steady, encouraging. "This is yours, David. You've earned this."

The runners beside him blurred into the periphery. He was ahead, but he could feel them, the competitors breathing down his neck, threatening to catch him. But this time, he wasn't running from anyone. He was running for himself. For everything he had fought for, everything he had lost and reclaimed.

The finish line loomed closer. His legs screamed, his chest burned, but he pushed through it, digging deeper, tapping into the fire that had kept him going all these years. In a final surge of speed, David propelled himself forward, his foot hitting the ground in unison with the resounding cry of the crowd.

He crossed the finish line.

For a moment, everything was still. The world seemed to pause, as if even time itself acknowledged the enormity of what he had just achieved. His breath came in ragged gasps, his chest heaving, but the weight that had once pressed down on him had lifted.

The cheers hit him like a tidal wave, deafening and wild. The stadium erupted around him, but David barely registered it. He glanced up at the screen above the stadium, and there it was—his name, glowing in first place. Olympic gold.

His legs felt like they might give out, but he stood tall, his chest rising and falling as he took in the magnitude of the moment. He caught sight of Sarah in the stands, her face alight with pride, tears streaming down her cheeks as she clapped with the rest of the roaring crowd. Their eyes met, and in that instant, everything else faded away. She had been with him through every high and low, and now, she was here—witnessing the moment he had fought so hard to reach.

The podium ceremony was a blur, but as David stepped onto the highest platform, the weight of the gold medal around his neck felt both surreal and satisfying. The anthem of his country swelled through the stadium, a triumphant melody that filled the air, but David's mind was elsewhere—on the journey that had brought him here, on the woman who had believed in him when he couldn't believe in himself.

The crowd chanted his name, a sea of faces all turned toward him, but none of it felt overwhelming. For the first time in a long while, he stood in the spotlight, and it wasn't tainted by the shadows of his past. No betrayal, no bitterness. Just this—a pure, untainted moment of victory.

As the ceremony ended, reporters flocked toward him, microphones thrust in his face, cameras flashing. They peppered him with questions about his performance, his training, his future. Sponsorships rolled in—endorsements worth millions were already being discussed, but that wasn't what mattered most.

What mattered was the quiet moment afterward, when Sarah found him backstage. Without a word, she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. He held her close, burying his face in her shoulder, the tension finally draining from his body.

"You did it," she whispered against his ear, her voice thick with emotion.

David pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, his voice hoarse from the exertion and the emotion of it all. "We did it," he corrected, his hands gently cupping her face. "I couldn't have done this without you."

Sarah smiled, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "You could've," she said softly. "But I'm glad I was here with you."

He pressed his forehead to hers, the noise of the outside world fading away again. "This... this is what it feels like to win," he murmured, the realization sinking in. "And it's not just the medal. It's everything we've been through."

She nodded, her fingers lacing with his. "It's yours, David. All of it."

For the first time, the victory didn't feel hollow. It felt like peace.

Just as David began packing his things, preparing to return home with a sense of newfound peace, his phone buzzed on the nightstand. Then again. And again. The constant pings broke through the quiet of the hotel room, an ominous sound that prickled at his nerves.

He grabbed the phone, expecting messages of congratulations or maybe a reminder from his manager about an upcoming press appearance. Instead, his screen was flooded with notifications—social media posts, news articles, and comment threads. His mother's name stood out in bold headlines, accompanied by a picture of her looking disheveled and tearful in a hastily arranged interview. His stomach dropped.

"Olympic Champion David Hayes: Ungrateful Son Turns His Back on Family!"

"Mother of Gold Medalist Exposes the 'Truth' Behind His Success"

His chest tightened as he scrolled through the words, each one landing like a punch. His mother had gone public, painting herself as a victim of her own son's cold-hearted betrayal. She accused him of abandoning her after everything she had "sacrificed" for him. But it wasn't just about him. The real sting came when her tirade shifted focus.

"David's girlfriend, Sarah? A gold digger, a harlot. She's only with him for the money."

David's breath caught in his throat. The air in the room seemed to thicken, becoming hard to breathe. His grip tightened on the phone, knuckles turning white. The words blurred as he read them again, each insult more venomous than the last. His mother had crossed a line—one he never thought she would. She was attacking Sarah, the one person who had been there through every dark moment, through every doubt and victory.

He stood frozen for a moment, his heart pounding against his ribcage, his thoughts racing. How could she do this? After everything, how could his own mother stoop so low?

Sarah stepped out of the bathroom, her hair damp from a shower, oblivious to the storm building in David's mind. She smiled when she saw him, but the smile faltered the moment she caught the tension radiating off him.

"David?" she asked cautiously, noticing the way he gripped his phone like it might shatter. "What's going on?"

He swallowed hard, not wanting to drag her into this nightmare, but there was no avoiding it now. He handed her the phone, the article still open on the screen. "It's... my mother," he managed, his voice tight with barely restrained anger. "She's saying things. About me... and about you."

Sarah's brow furrowed as she took the phone from his hand. As her eyes scanned the words, David watched her expression change—confusion melting into shock, then hurt, and finally, a calm, cold fury that mirrored his own.

She set the phone down on the dresser with deliberate slowness, as if she were afraid she might break it. "So, I'm a gold digger now?" she said, her voice low and controlled, though her eyes betrayed the sting of the words.

David's heart ached at the sight of her. "Sarah... I don't know what to say. This is—"

"You don't have to say anything," she interrupted, her tone sharper than usual. She paced to the window, running a hand through her damp hair. "I knew she didn't like me, but this? Publicly? It's not just some passing insult, David. She's trying to destroy us."

He walked over to her, placing a hand on her shoulder, but she pulled away, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. Her breathing was quick, her body tense. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice raw. "This is my fault. I should've... I should've cut her off completely a long time ago. I didn't think she'd go this far."

Sarah turned to face him, her eyes blazing with emotion. "David, this isn't just about her attacking me. This is about her trying to control you—again. Even now, when you've broken free, she's trying to drag you back into her mess."

David felt the familiar rage bubbling up, but it wasn't just anger—it was betrayal, disappointment, exhaustion. He had fought so hard to leave that part of his life behind, to finally move forward, and yet here it was, rearing its ugly head when he least expected it. But Sarah was right. This wasn't just about him anymore. His mother's lies, her venom—they were hurting the one person he cared about more than anything.

He clenched his jaw, the decision forming in his mind. He wasn't going to stay silent any longer.

"I'm not letting her get away with this," David said, his voice firm, resolute. "She wants a public fight? Fine. I'll give her one."

Sarah blinked, her expression softening slightly. "David, you don't have to..."

"No." He shook his head, his gaze hardening. "I do. I've kept quiet long enough. She's been manipulating me, and now she's trying to drag you into it. I won't let that happen. Not anymore."

Sarah looked at him for a long moment, her eyes searching his. Then, she stepped closer, her hand finding his. "Whatever you decide, I'm with you," she said quietly. "But just... make sure you're doing this for you. Not because you feel like you have to prove anything to her."

David nodded, his mind clearer than it had been in a long time. "I'm doing this for us. For our future."

He took a deep breath, feeling the anger still simmering beneath the surface, but with it came a sense of control. He wasn't going to let his mother's words define him, or Sarah. They had both worked too hard for that.

As Sarah stood beside him, their hands intertwined, David knew what had to be done. He couldn't stay silent anymore. His mother had made her move. Now, it was time for him to make his.

The next day, the press conference room buzzed with nervous energy, cameras flashing, reporters poised with pens and microphones. The tension was palpable, everyone waiting for David to speak. As he stepped up to the podium, the bright lights of the cameras nearly blinded him, but the weight of the moment was heavier. His heart pounded in his chest, not from fear, but from the importance of what he was about to do.

He glanced briefly at Sarah, standing just off to the side. Her expression was calm, supportive, but he could see the worry behind her eyes. She gave him a small nod, and it was all he needed to find his voice.

David gripped the sides of the podium, feeling the cold metal under his fingers as he took a deep breath. The room fell silent, hundreds of eyes trained on him. "I've stayed quiet for too long," he began, his voice steady but carrying a raw edge of emotion. "I never wanted to air my family's issues in public, but the truth is, I can't stay silent any longer. Not when the people I love are being dragged into the mud."

His throat tightened as he spoke, the words tasting bitter on his tongue, but he pressed on. "My mother—the woman accusing me of being ungrateful—wasn't cheering for me. She was cheering for my opponents, the very people I was competing against. She wasn't there for me in the way a mother should be. When I was just a minor, she stole from me. She took money from my accounts, money I'd earned while representing our country. I had to use my own allowance to support our family's expenses while I trained relentlessly for this dream. And I stayed silent. I tried to forgive. I thought... I thought it was just something I had to endure."

The room erupted into murmurs, reporters exchanging glances, fingers flying across keyboards. The weight of the revelations hung in the air, each sentence heavier than the last.

David swallowed hard, his voice momentarily faltering. "But this... what's happening now—it's gone too far." He glanced at Sarah, drawing strength from her presence before continuing. "Sarah, the woman being slandered by my own mother, has been nothing but my rock through all of this. She's been with me when no one else was. She stood by me, supported me, lifted me up when I was ready to give up. And yet, my mother is calling her a gold digger, accusing her of things she couldn't be further from."

He paused, emotion thickening his voice. "Sarah is the reason I'm standing here today. The reason I have this gold medal around my neck. She's the one who saw me through every injury, every setback, every moment of doubt. And no one—no one—will take that away from us."

His words hung in the air, filled with quiet conviction. The room was utterly still, save for the faint clicks of cameras capturing his every expression.

David's gaze softened, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone. "I never wanted it to come to this. I didn't want to turn this into a public battle, but I'm here today to protect the people I love. I'm not here to attack my mother. In fact, despite everything, I forgive her. I forgive her for the lies, for the betrayal, for the hurt she's caused. But I won't let her actions continue to hurt the people I care about."

He took another deep breath, his chest rising and falling slowly. "All I want is peace. I want to close this chapter and move forward. I ask that my mother do the same. Let us live our lives without the attacks, without the lies. We all deserve to move on."

There was a long, deafening silence as the weight of David's words settled over the room. For a moment, no one moved, the gravity of the situation hanging thick in the air. Then, slowly, a single pair of hands began to clap, followed by another. Within seconds, the room erupted into applause—loud, thunderous, filled with admiration for the courage David had shown.

He stepped back from the microphone, his heart still racing, but the weight on his shoulders suddenly felt lighter. As the applause surged around him, David turned to Sarah, their eyes meeting. In that brief moment, no words were needed. They had weathered the storm together, and now, at long last, they could finally look ahead to a future that was theirs.

In the days following his announcement, the world seemed to hold its breath, waiting for the fallout. But instead of further scandal, something unexpected happened—respect. Public opinion shifted. News outlets and social media that had once thrived on the spectacle of his family's drama now turned their attention to something else: David's resilience.

The headlines changed.

"David Hayes: A Champion On and Off the Track"

"Forgiveness in the Face of Betrayal: A True Olympian's Strength"

People admired him not just for his athletic prowess but for his integrity. He hadn't lashed out, hadn't fueled the fire of his mother's accusations. Instead, he had stood up for what was right, for the people he loved, and even in the face of betrayal, he chose forgiveness.

As the media frenzy gradually died down, the hateful comments faded, and his mother's voice, once so loud and cutting, seemed to grow quieter. She stopped granting interviews, her name slipping from the headlines, and soon, she too faded into the background, like a storm that had finally passed.

But the storm had left its scars.

David returned home with Sarah, stepping through the front door of their house, which now felt like a sanctuary. The golden light of late afternoon filtered through the windows, casting warm hues across the hardwood floors. There was a sense of calm here, a silence that wasn't heavy with tension but peaceful, like the world outside couldn't touch them anymore.

As they set down their bags, Sarah slipped her hand into his, squeezing it gently. "How are you feeling?" she asked, her voice soft, but there was a note of caution in her tone. She knew this victory wasn't without its cost.

David exhaled, staring at the quiet home they had built together. "Lighter," he said after a moment, his voice tinged with surprise. "For the first time in years, I feel like I'm not fighting anymore. Like I can actually breathe."

He turned to look at her, and for a moment, the gravity of everything hit him. Sarah had been with him through it all—the accusations, the pressure, the heartbreak—and she had never wavered. He pulled her closer, resting his forehead against hers. "I don't know how I would've gotten through this without you."

"You don't have to do it alone anymore," Sarah murmured, her fingers tracing the back of his hand. "We're in this together. Always."

David smiled softly, a genuine warmth filling his chest. "I know. And that's the part that makes it all worth it."

They stood like that for a long moment, the weight of the past slowly peeling away as the present settled around them. The world outside seemed so distant, so far removed from this quiet peace they had carved out for themselves.

Later that evening, they sat on the back porch, watching the sky turn from pale pink to deep indigo as the stars began to blink into view. The air was cool, a gentle breeze rustling through the trees. David leaned back in his chair, feeling a sense of tranquility he hadn't known in years. The gold medal he had once fought so hard for sat on the table beside them, its shine dulled slightly by the fading light, but it didn't matter. It wasn't the medal that defined him anymore.

"Do you ever think about what's next?" Sarah asked, breaking the comfortable silence. She looked over at him, her eyes reflecting the soft glow of the twilight.

David nodded, considering her question. "Yeah, I do. And for the first time... I'm not afraid of it. I feel like we can build whatever future we want now."

She smiled, a quiet understanding passing between them. "We've been through the worst of it. Now it's just about moving forward."

He reached for her hand, their fingers intertwining. "Exactly. And whatever comes next... I know we can handle it. Together."

As the stars filled the night sky above them, there was no longer a shadow looming over their future. The past had tried to hold him back, tried to pull him down, but David had found his way through it—stronger, wiser, and finally, at peace.