Chapter 1 Fractured Love

Stephanie Johnson's POV

"Stephanie, what the hell is wrong with you today? That's the fourth mistake you've made!"

I froze mid-step, caught off guard. Coach Deborah Garcia's voice cut through the training hall like a blade.

She marched toward me, arms crossed, eyes sharp as glass. "You're the captain. When you're off, the whole team follows. The championship is three weeks away. Keep this up, and I'll find someone else to lead."

I opened my mouth, but before I could speak, a mocking laugh drifted from behind.

"She's been distracted lately." Lily Martin, my so-called vice-captain, wiped her neck with a towel, her tone dripping with poison. "Haven't you noticed? Lorenzo hasn't shown up to watch practice once. He used to camp outside the door like a lost puppy."

I bit down so hard on my lip I tasted blood. My hands trembled at my sides.

Lorenzo Smith was my boyfriend. But lately, everything between us had been cracking apart. And now even my training was falling apart because of it.

"Speaking of Lorenzo…" Another teammate jumped in. "I saw him with Jessica at the coffee shop yesterday. Right, Jessica?"

All eyes turned to Jessica Wilson. She was slowly pulling her glossy hair into a high ponytail, unhurried, deliberate. Her gaze slid toward me, and the corner of her mouth curved into something wicked.

Jessica and I had been rivals since freshman year. We fought our way up from backup cheerleaders to the captain tryouts. I won. She never forgave me for it.

And she'd been circling Lorenzo like a shark ever since.

"Enough!" Deborah snapped. "Are you here to train or gossip? Back to positions!"

The room fell silent. I stood frozen, sweat still dripping down my neck, but my blood had gone cold.

When practice finally ended, I walked to the sinks on shaking legs.

I cranked the faucet and splashed cold water over my face. The shock brought me back, just for a second.

"Stephanie… are you okay?"

I turned. Emily Thomas stood behind me, her face tight with worry.

"I'm fine." I tried to smile. It didn't work.

"Don't lie to me. Everyone's talking. It's Lorenzo, isn't it?" She stepped closer, refusing to let me hide.

I exhaled slowly. "Yesterday was my birthday. He didn't show up."

Emily's eyes went wide. "Did he even explain?"

I stared at the wall. "He said a freshman on his team got sick and he took her to the hospital. But more than one person saw him at the coffee shop. With Jessica."

"So he lied." Her voice hardened.

I shook my head, a hollow laugh escaping my throat. "It doesn't matter. I just want to focus on practice."

She squeezed my arm. "You're right. You fought too hard for that captain spot to let him wreck it."

We talked a little longer. By the time I walked out, my head was clearer. Afternoon practice went better. Even Deborah's expression softened.

At four o'clock, I was heading back to the dorm when a long shadow fell across my path.

Lorenzo leaned against a sycamore tree, one foot propped on the trunk, twirling his car keys. His dark gray hoodie stretched across his broad shoulders, and his hair was messy from the wind.

The second he saw me, he straightened up and walked over.

"Stephanie."

I kept walking.

"Stephanie—wait!" He grabbed my wrist.

"What?" I tried to pull free. He's a football player. I couldn't move an inch.

"Just listen to me." His voice was urgent. "Jessica—I told you. I took her to the hospital. We grabbed coffee after. That's it. Here—" He shoved his phone in my face. "Look. All the messages. Every single one."

I scanned the screen. It matched. The suspicion in my chest loosened just a little.

"Fine," I said quietly. "I didn't say I didn't believe you."

His whole face lit up. He pulled a small blue velvet box from his hoodie and pressed it into my palm.

Inside lay a necklace—a tiny sapphire on a delicate chain, glowing like a frozen teardrop.

"You said you lost your necklace last week," he murmured. "This is to replace it."

He stepped behind me, brushed my hair aside, and fastened the clasp.

"Perfect," he breathed, smiling that boyish smile that used to make my heart race.

And damn it—I smiled back. The anger from the morning melted away like it had never been there.

"Are you free tomorrow?" I asked.

He hesitated. Just a second. Then nodded fast. "Yeah. What's up?"

"Morning practice with me. Six o'clock." I started walking, then glanced back. "Don't be late."

He raised three fingers in a mock salute. "You got it, my queen."

I laughed despite myself. He darted in, kissed my forehead, and stepped back with his hands in his pockets, grinning like a kid who just got away with something.

I touched the sapphire at my throat and thought: I still love him. And love means choosing to trust.

The next morning, I stood by the iron gate at the track entrance at exactly six a.m.

The air was cold and thin. I stretched. Waited.

Six o'clock came. Six-fifteen. Six-thirty.

Nothing.

I was just about to give up when I heard laughter behind me.

I turned around.

Lorenzo stood on the other side of the track in a dark blue athletic shirt, a white towel slung over his shoulder, his hair damp like he'd just showered.

And next to him—Jessica Wilson. Pink tank top, white shorts, long hair loose, one hand resting casually on his arm. She was laughing at something he'd said.

A few other girls lingered nearby, smirking.

When Jessica saw me, her smile turned cruel.

"Hey, Lorenzo," she called out, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Your little puppy's here looking for you."

Lorenzo's eyes met mine across the field. He didn't pull away from her touch.

And just like that—the necklace on my throat felt like a chain tightening.