MELISSA'S POV
Two days left.
After our final team practice, my body felt like it had been hit by a bus, but my mind refused to rest. Every muscle ached, my shoulders heavy from days of hard drills and skating, yet I was restless. I knew what was coming. Mexico. The tournament. The weight of expectations.
Coach had told me earlier to expect a delivery soon—my passport and visa card. He said everything had been processed, and the federation wanted us to fly out early and settle in before match prep officially began. I was grateful for the heads-up.
That morning, I was sprawled across my couch, replaying our final drill sequences when the doorbell rang. I jumped up, heart lurching from the sudden sound. I opened the door and there it was: a small brown parcel stamped with urgent clearance
