The Champion He Didn't Deserve

Chapter 4

Wyatt did not hesitate. "You are way more qualified than Clover for the national team."

His words made Rosalind's heart leap with joy. I could see it in the way her shoulders relaxed.

But she put on a show of modesty. "Yet Clover still beat me today," she said. "I am scared I will not make the national team. Then I would not get to chase our dream together with you, Wyatt."

Everyone knew I was the provincial squad's top talent. But a few losses were enough for Wyatt to dismiss me completely.

Yet in my past life, when Rosalind struggled, he had spent sleepless nights helping her improve. The unfairness of it all burned inside me.

He snapped me out of my thoughts. "Do not worry," he said to her. "I will train with you and push you harder than anyone. We are making the national team together."

Favoritism left a sour taste in my mouth. I could not shake the suspicion that in my past life, he had not pushed me to retire so we could build a home. He had pushed me to clear the path for Rosalind.

My mind was a mess as I stormed off. Their smirks said it all. They were just waiting for me to crash and burn. Well, I would make sure to disappoint every last one of them.

Even after I had retired in my past life, I had never stopped following tennis. The fire for the game still burned deep inside me. But being reborn with so little time meant even my best efforts could not bring back my peak form. Still, fate had thrown me a lifeline and I would claw my way back with everything I had.

The national team was my only shot at redemption. But professional tennis demanded money, money that Sylvie would only spend on Lucas.

Back in the training hall, I analyzed my match footage on my phone. Slow reflexes. Wild backhands. Shaky rhythm on critical points. I needed more drills, more hours on the court. Soon the space echoed with the rhythmic pop of tennis balls against the wall.

As I glared at the net, a water bottle suddenly blocked my view. I looked up to find Wyatt standing there. Was he here to drag an apology from me?

I ignored the bottle and grabbed another ball instead. To my surprise, he just picked up a racket and took position across the net. The men's provincial champion was offering a free practice match. I was not about to say no.

The ball flew and we rallied. His skill was terrifying. Even at my absolute best, beating him would have been nearly impossible. He wiped the court with me, three games to nothing. Yet oddly enough, I felt fired up instead of defeated. You lose some and you learn some.

Before I could speak, he beat me to it.

"Your skills have slipped, but your mindset has improved significantly," he said. "Still, at this level, you will not make it to the national team."

I understood clearly what he meant. To Wyatt, Rosalind was the only one worthy of standing beside him on the national stage. I did not want to waste this hard won training opportunity though. I held my tongue and served again.

For hours, we traded powerful shots back and forth across the net. Neither of us noticed Rosalind's brief figure in the doorway.

That afternoon sharpened my skills and reflexes and deepened my determination to improve. As the former provincial squad star, my every move drew scrutiny from the others. Mostly sneers and whispered comments. No one believed I could make a comeback. I tuned them out completely and focused only on my goal.

The next day, I arrived at the court to find Rosalind clutching her racket with eyes red rimmed. A chill ran down my spine immediately. Why was everyone staring at me?

Without warning, Wyatt turned on me. His voice cut through the air like a blade.

"Clover, how could you deliberately sabotage Rosalind's racket? You know how vital this equipment is to a player. How could you do something so cruel?"