The early sun filtered through the apartment windows, casting soft golden streaks across the hardwood floor. The city outside was just beginning to stir, but inside, a quiet storm was brewing.
Vinnie stood in the living room, suitcase packed, shoes tied, jacket zipped. His silhouette was framed by the pale morning light. He checked his watch.
Still nothing.
With a sigh, he walked to the bedroom, knocking once before pushing the door open.
"Aleksandar. Wake up."
There was no response just a muffled groan and the rustle of sheets.
Vinnie stepped closer.
"I said wake up."
Another groan. Aleksandar squinted, barely managing to open his eyes when Vinnie's voice sliced through the silence.
"I'm leaving for Rome today. These last few days before I fly to Argentina I'm spending them there. You stay here. Follow the training schedule. Stick to the meal plan. I'll be back the day of our flight to Serbia."
Aleksandar blinked, dazed. His mind was still swimming in sleep. Confused, he sat up.
"Wait what? You're leaving now? I thought this was supposed to be a week of you training me. Helping me get into rotation."
Vinnie didn't even flinch. His voice was cold, detached measured.
"I never said I'd babysit you. I said I'd help you train. And I did. I showed you the full program yesterday. The food is prepped and stacked in the fridge. All you have to do is heat it up."
He turned toward the hallway.
"This moment was always coming. You'd have to do it on your own sooner or later. Whether it's in Serbia while I'm in Argentina, or now makes no difference."
Aleksandar stared at him, words caught in his throat.
Vinnie kept going, his voice calm but heavy with conviction.
"Now it's just you and your thoughts. No one yelling at you. No one watching. And no one is coming to save you. This is the part where you find out how bad you really want it. Or…"
He paused by the door, looking back one last time.
"...you can stay in bed. No one will stop you."
He gestured to the kitchen.
"Key's on the table. Lock up if you go out. Train if you mean it. Do nothing if you don't. Either way, I'll see you when it's time to fly."
And with that, the door closed behind him.
Aleksandar sat at the edge of his bed, eyes fixed on the floor. The weight of Vinnie's words pressed down on him like an invisible barbell. "It's just you and your thoughts now." For the first time in a long while, there was no noise. No voice telling him what to do. Just silence.
And in that silence, something shifted.
He stood up.
"No more excuses."
He grabbed his shoes. Laced them tight. The war had begun.
Aleksandar began with mobility drills. Foam rolling. Resistance bands. World's Greatest Stretch. Just like Vinnie had taught him. Every joint awakened. Every breath steady.
"No warm up, no progress." Vinnie's words echoed in his mind.
Depth jumps. Broad jumps. Lateral bounds. His legs screamed, but his mind stayed locked in. The air was thick with humidity and determination. Sweat dripped onto the hardwood.
Land soft. Explode up. Minimal ground time. Reactive. Powerful. "Your legs don't care if you're tired they only care if you train them to respond."
Two ball dribbles. Tennis ball coordination drills. Cone dribbles with jab steps and hesitations. He set up a makeshift court, weaving through the cones like a ghost in motion.
Aleksandar mimicked shooting form. Hundreds of reps. Perfect footwork. Elbow tucked. Follow through.
He visualized defenders. The shot clock. The crowd.
He whispered the countdown:
"Three… two… one…"
Release. Freeze. Hold.
He opened the fridge. Tupperware containers lined the shelves like soldiers in formation. Chicken and rice. Baked salmon. Steamed veggies. Vinnie had prepared everything.
"Even when he's gone, he's here," Aleksandar muttered with a smile.
He followed the sheet to the letter. Trap bar deadlifts. Split squats. Tempo push ups. Pull ups to failure. Plank rows with core tight. Each rep carved something new into him not just strength, but purpose.
Band sprints in the hallway. Line hops. Tuck jumps. Sweat splattered across the floor. The neighbors probably hated him by now. But he didn't care.
He was becoming something. Someone.
The apartment was quiet again. Aleksandar sat on the couch, towel over his head, body pulsing from effort.
The silence wasn't empty anymore. It was sacred.
It was where he became real.
The days passed like echoes each one a repetition of the last, yet never the same.
Aleksandar had finally come to understand something no one could teach him.
No one is coming to save me.
Not Vinnie. Not luck. Not talent alone.
Only I can do this. Only I can carry myself forward.
And so, he trained.
Day after day.
Alone, but never aimless.
His routine became sacred every drill, every rep, every drop of sweat, a quiet declaration that he was still in the fight.
Now, on the final day before their departure, the old gym echoed with the sounds of purpose.
Squeak thud. Swish.
The screech of sneakers on hardwood.
The rhythm of the ball slamming against the floor.
The soft snap of the net.
Aleksandar moved with sharp focus no longer chasing approval, but chasing progress.
And then
The heavy metal doors creaked open.
Two silhouettes stepped into the gym. One of them was Vinnie, his expression unreadable. The other… unfamiliar. Older, broader shouldered, with the quiet presence of someone used to watching greatness unfold.
They stood still, observing.
Aleksandar didn't notice at first. He was lost in the rhythm.
But when he did glance up he didn't stop.
He just squared his stance, took one more dribble, and rose up for the shot.
Swish.
Vinnie gave a small nod.
"Let's see what the boy has become, he muttered to the man beside him.