Elina’s POV
Back at Ryan’s villa, I sank into the couch, pleased to feel his warm arm slip around me. The thrill of his championship win was still buzzing in my chest. Even now—with the chants and the buzz of excitement faded into quiet in this safe space— I could almost hear Ryan saying, “For you,” and see myself taking that trophy. If not for the physical evidence of it sitting on the table, I might’ve convinced myself it was just a well-hidden fantasy, something that had camped out in my headspace and decided to make itself known.
But it wasn’t.
And I wasn’t ill, either. If I had been, Sigrid wouldn’t have cleared me as halfway recovered, just in need of rest now.
Ryan was looking at me with that soft smile that hadn’t seemed to leave his face since he handed me the trophy back at the court—his eyes crinkling with that fond look.
It made butterflies swarm madly in the pit of my stomach, and my heart skipped into an unsteady rhythm.