Chapter 2

The training camp's welcome dinner was supposed to be relaxed and fun.

I stood at the entrance of the VIP dining room at the training center, watching the warm lights and my teammates' laughter inside, taking a deep breath. After today's training ended, Coach announced a welcome dinner for Anastasia to help everyone "integrate better."

'Integrate better?' I scoffed internally. From the moment she showed up yesterday, I knew trouble was coming.

"Faye, why are you standing here?" Caspian walked up behind me, holding a sports drink. He'd changed into a clean UCLA gymnastics team t-shirt, his hair still damp from the shower.

"Just... needed a moment." I said. "Today's training was pretty intense."

"Come on, tonight should be about relaxing." He patted my shoulder. "Plus Anastasia just joined, we should be friendly."

I turned to look at him. "Friendly? Caspian, don't you think she's a bit... strange?"

"Strange?" He raised an eyebrow. "I think she's professional. And her international experience is really extensive. You saw how confident she was talking about Worlds..."

"That confidence could be an act."

Caspian stopped, his expression turning serious. "Faye, you're being... jealous, aren't you?"

Jealous? The word hit me like a slap. "Jealous of what? I have my results, I have my skills."

"I know, I know." He raised his hands. "That's not what I meant. It's just... forget it, let's go inside."

In the dining room, Anastasia sat at the center of the long table, surrounded by several teammates. She wore a simple black sweater, her golden hair pulled back in a low ponytail, radiating European elegance.

"Faye!" She waved at me with a perfect smile. "Come over, I was just sharing some training insights with everyone."

I forced a smile and walked over, Caspian right behind me.

"I was just saying," Anastasia continued, "in Europe, we're extremely strict about technical details. Take swimming, for example - it's not just about speed, it's about stability under high-pressure environments."

The teammates nodded in agreement. I noticed her graceful hand gestures and confident gaze - she definitely had that international athlete vibe.

"Faye, you swim well at Stanford." She suddenly turned to me, her tone as casual as discussing weather. "But college swimming and international competition are completely different concepts, like... the difference between amateur hobby and professional sport."

The air instantly froze.

I felt everyone's eyes focus on me. 'Amateur hobby?' My hands clenched into fists.

"Results speak for themselves," I tried to stay calm. "My times have already hit Olympic A standards."

Anastasia laughed lightly - a sound both elegant and grating. "Times are just the foundation. Real champions need big-meet experience and mental toughness. These can only be forged at Worlds, Olympics."

She paused, scanning everyone at the table. "When I trained in Europe, my coach always said pool times and actual race performance are two different things. Pressure, crowds, media attention... these will make amateur athletes crumble."

'Amateur athletes.' She used that phrase again.

I was about to fight back when I heard a sound that made my heart stop.

"Anastasia has a point."

It was Caspian's voice.

I turned to look at him, not believing my ears. He was nodding in agreement, looking serious.

"I've always felt we American athletes lack international perspective." He continued, completely oblivious to my shocked expression. "Faye, you really should learn more about European training philosophy."

Time seemed to stop. I stared at this boy who'd trained with me since age eight, who knew all my secrets and dreams, who I thought would always be on my side.

"Caspian?" My voice trembled slightly. "Are you serious? We've trained together since childhood, you know my strength better than anyone."

He avoided my gaze, looking down at the tableware. "Strength is one thing, experience is another. Anastasia's international competition experience is something we can't match."

Anastasia's smile grew brighter. "See, this is real athlete mentality. Caspian has great potential, deserves better guidance."

I felt something burning in my chest. Not anger - something deeper. The pain of betrayal.

"I need some air." I stood up, the chair making a harsh scraping sound.

No one stopped me.

The hallway was quiet, only my footsteps echoing. I leaned against the wall, trying to steady my breathing.

'Ten years.' I repeated the number in my head. Ten years of friendship, ten years of mutual support, ten years of shared dreams. Now all of it crumbling because of a few words from an outsider?

Footsteps came from the dining room direction. I saw Caspian emerge, but his expression was as cold as a stranger's.

"Can we talk privately?" I grabbed his arm. "Ten years of friendship, and you're just..."

He stopped but didn't turn to face me. "Faye, you need to face reality. This is Olympic training camp, not Stanford's swim team. If you really want to make the Olympics, you need to raise your standards."

Standards? He was actually using "standards" to lecture me?

"What standards?" My voice was sharper than I intended. "Listening to someone who's been here one day trash me? Or denying years of our training achievements for her so-called 'international experience'?"

"See, that's exactly the problem." He finally turned around, but his eyes held no warmth. "You're too stubborn, Faye. Anastasia's right - college level and international level really are different. She's helping you see reality."

"Helping me?" I laughed, the sound bitter even to my own ears. "Those words were helping me? Caspian, when did you become so naive?"

"I'm not naive, you're being oversensitive." His tone grew colder. "Maybe... maybe we need some space."

Space. That word completely shattered the last hope in my heart.

"Fine." I released his arm. "If that's what you want, you got it."

He didn't answer, turning back toward the dining room. I watched his figure disappear behind the door, listening to the laughter from inside.

I remembered when we were kids, our first competition together. Caspian was only eight, so nervous he threw up before the race. I stayed with him in the bathroom, telling him it was okay, we'd face it together.

I remembered last year's nationals, when I only got second due to a technical error and was devastated enough to want to quit. Caspian sat with me by the pool until midnight, telling me champions aren't defined by one race.

I remembered countless mornings when we'd wake each other up, running to the training facility together. Back then we said no matter what difficulties we faced, we'd support each other and stand together on the Olympic stage.

Now all these memories had become mockery.

The laughter in the dining room grew louder. Through the glass door, I saw Anastasia gesturing about something while teammates listened intently. Caspian sat beside her, watching her with focus.

I stood in that hallway for a long time, until everyone had left the dining room. When Caspian passed by me, we didn't even make eye contact.