The gym had fallen quiet.
Aleksandar was still sitting on the hardwood, legs sprawled out, body trembling from fatigue. Sweat dripped from his chin to the floor, his breath ragged and heavy. He was still processing the loss, still feeling the sting of what could have been.
Across the court, Francesco picked up his backpack, threw a towel over his shoulder, and made his way toward the exit. But before stepping through the gym doors, he stopped, turned around, and glanced at the one person who hadn't played, but had seen everything.
Vinnie.
With a smug smirk, Francesco lifted his hand and called out,
"I'll be seeing you next season. This year, try getting out of the first round. See ya."
Without another word, he pushed the door open and walked out into the sunlight.
That was how Francesco parted ways with Vinnie for now. But both of them knew deep down, this wasn't the last time their paths would cross. Their stories were still intertwined.
Vinnie stood in silence for a moment, then turned back toward the court.
There sat Aleksandar, still catching his breath on the floor, eyes low, soul weighed down by the loss.
Vinnie walked over calmly and crouched beside him. His expression was stern… but there was a flicker of pride behind his eyes.
"Good game," he said plainly. "But I think now, you've finally become aware of your weaknesses."
Aleksandar slowly looked up.
Vinnie continued, his tone like that of a seasoned coach giving the post game diagnosis.
"That's why I've graded you on your performance. When you come to Argentina in three months, we'll compare your progress. Listen closely."
He stood back up and spoke with clarity:
"First Physicality. This includes stamina and strength. Right now? Below average. D grade."
"Second Athleticism. That's your speed and vertical leap. Also below average. But your first step and fast break potential are solid. If you sharpen that, you'll get past defenders much easier."
"Third Shooting. Self explanatory. You're above average here. B grade. You just need to work on your shot selection. With repetition, you'll become more consistent."
"Next Handles. You're average. You have potential, but from what I saw, you love using too many flashy moves. You're a showman. Cut the excess. Be more direct. That way, you'll preserve stamina. For now? C grade."
"Lastly Defense. With your current physical and athletic limits, you're just average. But with coaching and time, this can easily improve. Defense mostly comes with experience."
Then Vinnie softened his voice slightly.
"So stick with the training regime I gave you. The same one you've followed this past week. If you stay committed, you'll make huge progress in these three months."
He paused.
"Don't let this loss discourage you. You were one step away from victory. Use this defeat as your motivation so that next time, when you face him again…"
He held out his hand.
"…you won't lose."
Aleksandar stared for a second, then took Vinnie's hand.
With a pull, he was back on his feet.
Vinnie gave him a light pat on the back.
"Let's head to the apartment. Take a quick shower. My flight to Argentina leaves in under two hours… and so does yours to Serbia."
And so, the two of them one bruised, one calm walked out of the empty gym together, the sound of their footsteps echoing behind them as they stepped into the streets of Milan.
Their paths would soon split.
But their journey was far from over.
After they arrived at the apartment, Aleksandar dropped his bag by the door and let out a quiet sigh.
"I'm gonna take a shower now."
His voice was hoarse, tired, yet calm like someone who had just left every last drop of energy on the battlefield.
Without waiting for a reply, he walked into the bathroom. The door clicked shut behind him, and the sound of running water filled the apartment.
Meanwhile, Vinnie made his way to the small kitchen. Despite the day's intensity, his hands moved with practiced ease as he set up the ingredients.
Rice. Fresh salmon. And a crisp side salad.
A recovery meal not just for the body, but for the mind.
He worked in silence, the smell of grilled fish soon filling the room. The steam from the rice cooker rose like fog, wrapping the kitchen in a gentle warmth.
By the time Aleksandar stepped out of the shower, towel draped over his neck, Vinnie had already set the table.
Aleksandar didn't say a word. He quietly packed his things into his suitcase folding each item with the mechanical rhythm of someone half absent in thought.
Vinnie glanced over and gave a small nod.
A few minutes later, lunch was ready.
He called out without looking back:
"Small fry, come here. I'm not even sure if you've followed my meal plan this past week… but I'm gonna guess no." He paused, plating the food. "Don't forget nutrition is just as important as training. Maybe even more. Without it, your muscles won't grow, and your recovery slows down to a crawl."
He set the last plate down and turned to face him.
"So eat up. You've earned it."
The two of them sat down and began to eat. The atmosphere wasn't heavy just quiet.
The salmon was tender. The rice warm. The salad fresh.
Recovery. In every bite.
When the plates were clean and the clock ticked forward, Vinnie stood up and grabbed his jacket.
"I called an Uber it should be here any minute now. So hurry up. Let's go."
And with that, Aleksandar zipped up his suitcase, threw one last glance at the apartment and followed Vinnie out the door.
After what felt like forever in the backseat of a quiet Uber ride, Aleksandar and Vinnie finally arrived at the airport. The sun was already starting to dip behind the glass ceiling of the terminal, casting long golden rays across the polished floors.
The usual chaos followed dragging luggage, flashing IDs, scanning tickets, security checks. The dull routine of travel.
But after passing through all the motions, they found themselves standing together, shoulder to shoulder, in front of the massive windows that overlooked the runways. Planes rose and landed like clockwork. A constant reminder that time waited for no one.
They stood in silence. No more advice. No more lectures. Just two figures with two paths... splitting here.
Vinnie turned to him, hands in his jacket pockets, eyes fixed forward.
"I'm gonna see you in three months. So don't waste them."
His voice was calm, but underneath it... something sharper. Pride. Expectation.
Aleksandar tightened his grip on the handle of his suitcase. His body still ached from the match. His legs were sore. But his eyes his eyes burned with quiet fire.
"Don't worry," he said. "I'm gonna take that spot in the starting rotation. Just wait."
They didn't shake hands. They didn't hug.
They didn't need to.
The moment said everything.
Then, without looking back, each of them walked toward their gates.
Two separate terminals.
Two separate flights.
One shared goal.
Moments later, two planes soared into the evening sky cutting through the clouds like arrows released from drawn bows.
And up there, where no one could see them…
Above the noise.
Above the pressure.
Above the world…