Christian didn't like asking for help.
Not because he didn't need it.
But because somewhere along the way—
He learned it wouldn't come.
---
The notice had been clear.
Family must be present.
---
He stared at it longer than necessary.
Then looked away.
---
Still—
He tried.
---
First, his father.
---
Mr. Albert sat slumped, the sharp scent of alcohol heavy in the room.
"Dad… I have a game today. It's important."
---
A pause.
A groan.
---
"Hmm?"
---
Christian clenched his jaw.
Never mind.
---
Then his mother.
---
The call connected.
Hope flickered—
Just briefly.
---
"I have something today—"
"I'm busy," her voice cut through, cold, distant.
A pause.
Then—
"I don't want to see that devil. Don't call me for anything related to her again."
---
The line went dead.
---
Christian stood there.
Phone still in his hand.
Something inside him… sinking.
---
And like always—
He turned.
---
To the easiest place.
---
Salomi.
---
"You're the reason she won't come!" he snapped, voice sharp, unforgiving.
"You ruin everything!"
---
The words came out harsher than he intended.
But he didn't stop.
---
Not when he saw her flinch.
Not when her eyes softened instead of hardened.
---
He stormed out.
---
And she said nothing.
---
---
The court was alive.
---
Cheers.
Laughter.
Voices calling out names.
---
Families.
Everywhere.
---
Except for one section.
---
Reserved.
Marked.
Obvious.
---
Empty.
---
Christian saw it.
Every time he glanced up.
---
And it hurt.
More than he expected.
---
The game started.
---
But his mind wasn't there.
---
Missed shots.
Late reactions.
Frustration building.
---
"This isn't you," one of his teammates muttered.
---
But it was.
---
Because right now—
He wasn't a player.
---
He was just a boy…
With no one in the stands.
---
---
Then—
He saw her.
---
At first, just a figure.
Standing apart.
---
Then—
Closer.
Clearer.
---
Ginger hair catching the light.
Standing out in a way no one else did.
---
Salomi.
---
His breath caught.
---
She lifted something.
---
A poster.
Handwritten.
Simple.
---
You're not alone.
---
And then—
She cheered.
---
Loud.
Unapologetic.
---
The loudest voice in the entire crowd.
---
"For you, Christian!"
---
He blinked.
---
Then—
He laughed.
---
It came out unexpectedly.
Messy.
Real.
---
Tears followed.
---
His chest tightened.
But his heart—
---
His heart felt…
Full.
---
For the first time that day.
---
She didn't stop.
---
Every point.
Every move.
Every effort—
---
She was there.
Cheering like it mattered.
Like he mattered.
---
People stared.
Whispered.
Gave her strange looks.
---
But she didn't care.
---
She just kept going.
---
And something inside him…
Shifted.
---
"Who's that?" a teammate asked, amused.
---
Christian didn't hesitate.
---
"My sister."
---
The words came out naturally.
Effortlessly.
---
And when he said it—
---
Something settled inside him.
---
Like a truth finally accepted.
---
---
They won.
---
The game ended in cheers.
Officials watching.
Taking notes.
---
Opportunity.
Future.
---
But Christian wasn't thinking about any of that.
---
He ran.
---
Past everyone.
Past the noise.
---
Looking for her.
---
He found her just as she was about to leave.
---
For a moment—
He didn't know what to say.
---
So he didn't.
---
He took off his jacket.
Placed it in her hands.
---
It was cold.
---
And somehow—
That mattered more than words.
---
She looked up at him.
Surprised.
---
Then smiled.
---
Soft.
Warm.
---
And his breath caught.
---
Those eyes…
---
They didn't deserve what he had said.
---
What he had done.
---
He couldn't stay.
---
So he turned—
And ran.
---
Behind him—
She stood there.
Confused.
---
But smiling.
---
She slipped on the jacket.
Pulled it closer.
---
And found the note.
---
Thank you.
—Christian
---
Her smile deepened.
---
---
The smile didn't last.
---
Because the moment she stepped away—
---
It hit.
---
Harder than before.
---
The cough came suddenly.
Violently.
---
She dropped to one knee.
---
Her body shook.
---
And then—
Blood.
---
Not a little.
---
A lot.
---
It stained her hand.
Dripped to the ground.
---
Some of it—
Fell onto the paper.
---
Blurring the ink.
---
Her breathing became uneven.
Shallow.
Painful.
---
Her vision blurred.
---
But she didn't scream.
---
Didn't call out.
---
No one was there.
---
No one to see.
---
No one to hear.
---
---
Just hours before—
She had sat in a quiet room.
---
A doctor across from her.
Words she couldn't unhear.
---
Late.
Too late.
---
Brain Cancer.
---
The word had echoed.
Over and over.
---
"You don't have much time."
---
She had smiled then too.
Out of habit.
---
Until she stepped outside.
---
And broke.
---
Tears she had never allowed herself—
Finally came.
---
"It's not fair…" she whispered.
Again.
And again.
---
Because it wasn't.
---
She had endured everything.
Given everything.
---
And this—
Was what was left for her.
---
---
But even then—
---
She wiped her tears.
---
Stood up.
---
And went.
---
To be there for him.
---
---
Now—
She knelt alone.
---
Blood on her hands.
On the note.
On the ground.
---
Her breathing fragile.
Her body failing.
---
And still—
---
No one saw.
---
After a while—
The coughing eased.
---
She forced herself up.
Slowly.
Carefully.
---
Her hands trembled.
---
But she steadied herself.
---
Held the paper again.
---
The ink slightly smudged.
---
But still readable.
---
Thank you.
---
She smiled.
---
Soft.
Tired.
But real.
---
Because even now—
Even like this—
---
She had something.
---
A moment.
A word.
---
A beginning.
---
---
And she held onto it.
---
Like it was enough.