Two days passed in a blur of whispers and sidelong glances. I'd barely seen Maddox since he'd carried Nadia away from our celebration. The team headquarters felt different now—hostile territory where I was the outsider.

I sat in the team's conference room, my hands folded neatly in my lap as I waited for the meeting to begin. The other players filtered in, their eyes carefully avoiding mine. Axe, who had once called me their "little support goddess," now wouldn't even look in my direction.

"Let's get started," Maddox's voice cut through the silence as he strode into the room, a folder tucked under his arm. He didn't sit beside me as usual, but chose a chair across the table.

I straightened my spine, forcing myself to meet his gaze. "Maddox, before we begin, I wanted to discuss the lineup for the upcoming—"

"We're not discussing that today." His tone was clipped, final. "I've made some decisions regarding team composition."

The room went deadly quiet. Even our coach, who usually dominated strategy meetings, sat back with an uncomfortable expression.

"Nadia will be joining the active roster," Maddox announced, his eyes sweeping across the room before landing briefly on me. "She'll be taking over as starting Support."

The words hit me like a physical blow. "But the World Championship qualifiers start next week," I said, struggling to keep my voice steady. "We've been training together for months. My stats—"

"Your stats?" Maddox's eyebrow arched. "You think this is about numbers?"

I pulled up my performance metrics on my tablet, sliding it across the table. "I'm consistently at 300 APM in tournament play. My healing efficiency is 28% higher than league average. I've memorized every champion's skill cooldown—"

"And Nadia is dying." His voice cracked slightly. "This is her dying wish—to play with us again before she..."

The room fell silent. I looked around at my teammates, searching for allies, but found only averted gazes.

"Her wish doesn't have to be my demotion," I said quietly. "We could rotate positions, or—"

"How can you be so heartless?" Maddox's voice rose sharply. "She doesn't have much time left, Myla. Can't you understand that?"

I stared at him, stunned by the accusation. "Heartless? I've given everything to this team—to you."

"Then prove it," he snapped. "Be supportive. Be a team player."

I felt something crack inside me—not my heart, but something deeper, more fundamental. With shaking hands, I pulled out my phone and opened my private journal app.

Strike 1, I typed.

---

Three hours later, Maddox's assistant called me into his office. I stood in the doorway, hesitating at the threshold. The room felt different—colder somehow, despite the warm afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows.

"Close the door," Maddox said without looking up from his desk.

I did as instructed, then remained standing silently until he finally raised his eyes to mine.

"We need to talk about the engagement party," he said, his tone businesslike.

My stomach twisted. "What about it?"

"It's canceled." He said it so casually, as if he were declining a lunch invitation rather than dismantling our future. "The venue and arrangements will be used for something else."

"Something else?" My voice sounded distant to my own ears.

"A commitment ceremony." He leaned forward, clasping his hands together. "For Nadia and me."

The room seemed to tilt sideways. "I don't understand."

"Nadia doesn't have much time left," he explained, as if speaking to a child. "I want to give her this happiness before she—" His voice broke. "Before she leaves us again."

"So you're canceling our engagement to... what? Marry her?"

"Not a legal marriage," he clarified quickly. "A commitment ceremony. Something beautiful and meaningful."

I felt bile rising in my throat. "And what do you expect from me?"

His eyes met mine, and for a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of the man I'd thought I knew. "I need you to be there. To support this."

"Support this?" I repeated numbly.

"As Maid of Honor," he added, the words falling between us like stones.

I took a step backward, my hand finding the wall for support. "You want me to stand beside you while you promise yourself to another woman?"

"It would mean a lot to Nadia," he said, his voice softening into the persuasive tone he used for sponsor negotiations. "And it would show team unity."

"Team unity," I echoed hollowly.

"Myla." His voice hardened slightly. "Don't forget what you owe me."

The unspoken threat hung in the air between us. My grandmother's medical bills. The debt that could never truly be repaid.

"Fine," I whispered, pulling out my phone again.

Strike 10, I typed with trembling fingers.

As I turned to leave, Maddox called after me: "Oh, and Myla? Wear something blue. It's Nadia's favorite color."

I didn't respond. I couldn't. Because if I opened my mouth, I knew I would scream until there was nothing left of me at all.

The Los Angeles hotel ballroom glittered with fairy lights and champagne towers, a perfect backdrop for what should have been my engagement party. Instead, I stood in a blue dress—Nadia's favorite color, as Maddox had reminded me—holding the train of her white gown as she posed for photos with my fiancé.

"Ready for the cake cutting?" The photographer adjusted his lens, gesturing to the elaborate five-tier masterpiece that dominated the center of the room.

I nodded mechanically, my fingers clutching the delicate fabric of Nadia's dress. The weight of her train felt like chains in my hands.

"Smile, Myla," Maddox whispered, his hand briefly touching my elbow. "This is a celebration."

A celebration of what? I wondered. The end of everything I'd worked for?

As we approached the cake table, Nadia leaned close, her breath warm against my ear. "Your grandmother was such a charity case," she whispered, her voice sweet as poison. "Did Maddox tell you he only helped her because he felt sorry for you?"

I stiffened, my grip tightening on her train. "That's not true."

"Isn't it?" Her eyes glittered with malice. "Why else would he keep you around? You're convenient, Myla. Disposable."

Before I could respond, her ankle twisted against mine—a deliberate movement so subtle no one else would notice. I felt myself falling forward, my hands reaching out instinctively to break my fall.

The cake exploded in a burst of white frosting and strawberry filling. The crowd gasped as I landed face-first in the destruction of what should have been my wedding cake.

"Oh my God!" Nadia's voice rose in perfect distress. "She pushed me! Did you see that? She pushed me into the cake!"

"I didn't—" I started, struggling to rise from the mess.

"Myla!" Maddox's voice cut through the chaos like a whip. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

His face was thunderous as he helped Nadia away from the disaster zone, cradling her as if I'd physically assaulted her. "Are you hurt, baby?"

"I'm shaking," she sobbed into his chest, her body trembling with what looked like genuine fear. "She's always been jealous of us."

Maddox's eyes found mine, cold with disappointment. "Clean yourself up," he ordered. "And apologize to everyone for ruining the party."

The room spun around me, faces blurring into a sea of pity and judgment. I stumbled toward the bathroom, frosting dripping from my hair and dress.

In the harsh fluorescent light of the bathroom, I stared at my reflection—a stranger covered in pink cake and humiliation. With trembling hands, I pulled out my phone.

Strike 25, I typed into my journal app.

---

Back in Seattle three days later, I rummaged through my locker at the team headquarters, searching for my grandmother's vintage silver locket. It was my most treasured possession—the only thing I had left of her besides memories.

"It's not here," I muttered, emptying the contents onto the bench. "It has to be somewhere."

A teammate passing by paused. "Looking for something?"

"My grandmother's locket," I said, not looking up. "A small silver one with filigree edges. Have you seen it?"

He shook his head. "Try the lost and found."

But it wasn't there either. For two days, I searched everywhere—my apartment, the training rooms, even the gym locker area. Nothing.

On the third day, I got a notification from my banking app. A charge from a local jeweler I'd never visited before.

Something cold settled in my stomach as I walked into the shop, the bell above the door tinkling softly.

"Can I help you find something?" The jeweler smiled politely.

"I'm looking for a silver locket," I said. "With filigree edges. It might have been brought in recently."

His eyes widened slightly. "Oh yes, the vintage piece. It was beautiful work—antique silver with intricate detailing."

"Where is it?" My voice sounded hollow even to my own ears.

"I'm afraid it's been melted down," he said apologetically. "The gentleman who brought it in commissioned a custom setting for a diamond ring."

The door opened behind me, and I turned to see Maddox standing there, a small velvet box in his hand.

"Myla," he said, surprise evident in his voice. "What are you doing here?"

"My locket," I whispered. "Where is it?"

He shifted uncomfortably. "I took it."

"Took it?" The words felt foreign on my tongue.

"The silver was perfect for what I needed," he explained, opening the velvet box to reveal a stunning diamond ring nestled in an intricate silver setting. "Nadia wanted something with history, with meaning."

I stared at the ring—at the melted remains of my grandmother's locket now holding a diamond for another woman.

"You weren't using it anyway," Maddox added, as if that justified everything.

I didn't scream. I didn't cry. I simply walked past him and out into the street.

Strike 67, I typed into my phone as the door closed behind me.

I watched from the sidelines as Nadia's Soraka danced recklessly across the map, positioning herself exactly where the enemy team could see her. Our ADC, Rocket, had been yelling into his headset for the past ten minutes.

"Support, where are you? I need heals!"

Nadia ignored him, chasing after an enemy champion who was clearly baiting her. The result was predictable—Rocket's Lucian went down in flames for the fourth time that scrimmage.

"What the hell, Nadia?" Rocket slammed his keyboard. "You're feeding them my kills!"

I bit my lip, knowing what would happen next. Sure enough, when the team gathered for the replay analysis, everyone's eyes turned to me.

"Your positioning was terrible, Myla," Axe said, his voice cold as he pointed at the screen. "You were distracting comms."

"I didn't say anything," I replied quietly. "I wasn't even playing."

"Exactly!" Nadia chimed in, her voice dripping with false concern. "She was sighing really loudly in the background. It threw me off."

I stared at her in disbelief. The recording showed nothing of the sort, but the team was already nodding in agreement.

"Maybe if you weren't so negative," our coach added, avoiding my eyes, "we wouldn't be struggling."

I looked around the room at the faces of men who had once called me their "little support goddess." Now they couldn't even meet my gaze. I'd seen the way they clustered around Nadia after practice, how they laughed at her jokes that weren't funny, how they accepted the "family tech stocks" she'd promised them.

"Whatever you say," I murmured, gathering my things.

As I left the training room, I heard Nadia's voice drop to a whisper. "She's just jealous because Maddox chose me."

I found myself eating lunch alone in the stairwell, away from their whispered conversations and meaningful glances. With shaking hands, I pulled out my phone.

Strike 68, I typed into my journal app.

---

The call came at 2:17 AM.

"Myla." Maddox's voice was barely recognizable, thick with pain. "I need you."

I found him curled on his bathroom floor, hands pressed against his temples. The migraine had hit him hard—his face was pale and sweaty, eyes bloodshot.

"Where's Nadia?" I asked, kneeling beside him.

"She can't..." He gasped as another wave of pain hit him. "She doesn't know how to..."

Of course she didn't. The specific acupressure technique that eased his migraines was one I'd learned over months of practice, memorizing the exact pressure points that could break through the pain.

I positioned my fingers at the base of his skull, applying steady pressure. "Breathe with me," I instructed softly.

As the tension began to ease from his body, Maddox's hand caught mine. His eyes, usually so distant lately, focused on my face with an intensity that made my heart stutter.

"I miss you," he whispered, his voice rough. "I miss us."

For a moment, I allowed myself to believe him. His hand slid up my arm, his lips hovering near mine. The air between us charged with something I'd thought was dead.

Then the intercom buzzed.

"Maddox?" Nadia's voice was small and frightened. "I had a nightmare. Can you come?"

Maddox froze, the connection between us snapping like a thread cut by scissors.

"That's enough," he said, pulling away from me. "Thank you for your help."

I watched him walk out, his steps already quickening with urgency to reach her. The door closed behind him with a soft click that echoed in the empty room.

Strike 75, I typed into my phone.

---

I stood in the doorway of the gaming house, staring at the pile of my belongings on the front lawn. My clothes, books, and gaming equipment had been unceremoniously dumped on the grass, still damp with morning dew.

"What's going on?" I asked as Maddox emerged from the house, his face hard as granite.

He thrust his phone toward me. "Explain this."

The screen showed photos of me entering a hotel room—specifically, the hotel where our rival team was staying.

"That's not what it looks like," I said quickly. "I was visiting my cousin. She's sick with pneumonia."

"Your cousin who plays for Team Apex?" His voice was cold with disgust.

"She's not on their active roster. She works in their content department."

Maddox's jaw tightened. "You expect me to believe that?"

"Look at the timestamps," I pleaded. "I was there for less than twenty minutes. If I was sharing strategies, wouldn't it have been longer?"

He refused to look at the timestamps. "You're a traitor, Myla. Get off my property."

The security guard approached, keys in hand. "Ms. Hill's access has been revoked," Maddox informed him. "And she's banned from all strategy meetings until further notice."

I gathered my things from the lawn, dignity the only possession they couldn't take from me. That night, I made a bed for myself in the equipment storage room, surrounded by boxes of team merchandise and spare gaming chairs.

As I curled up on the hard floor, I pulled out my phone one last time.

Strike 77, I typed, tears blurring my vision.