Chapter 8

"Hey," I mumbled, surprised by the unusual calm that surrounded them. The tension in my chest simmered just beneath the surface. I went to the sink and filled a glass with water, hoping to wash away the remnants of sleep. I could feel my mother's eyes on me, an unusual weight in her look as she exchanged strange glances with my father. It wasn't lost on me that they seemed less like the high-strung professionals I was used to seeing during the week and more like regular people. 

Before I could fully process this curious shift, my mother cleared her throat, drawing me from my contemplation. The sound cut through the hazy morning, and I focused on her, a small flicker of unease igniting in me.

"Winter," she began, her voice steady but filled with an unfathomable emotion. "We need to talk."

Instantly, the knot in my stomach tightened. "What is it?" I asked, setting my glass down carefully. It felt as if the air was charged with static, the calm before a storm, and I sensed this was not going to be the easy, lazy Sunday I had imagined.

"We can't attend your swimming tournament," she said, her words hanging in the air like the last note of a symphony—a quiet conclusion that reverberated in me long after it had been spoken.

The cup of water I had just filled pulled my thoughts in like a strong current. "What? But you promised!" My heart pounded against my ribcage like a prisoner desperate to break free. "You always said you'd be there!"

My father spoke then, his tone calming but firm, "There's an important meeting at the office, one we can't miss. We're sorry, Winter. We understand how important this is to you, and we fully support you. You're talented and strong; you'll do great."

I felt my fists clench involuntarily, heat surging through me like an angry river of molten lava. I was overwhelmed, feelings of betrayal mingling with a potent sense of frustration that shook me to my core. "You don't get it!" I exclaimed, unable to rein in my voice. "This isn't just any tournament for me. I've been training for this, and not just for the sake of winning! I need you there."

As if the sheer intensity of my emotions triggered an internal floodgate, the water from the tap suddenly burst out, splashing across the counter and pooling around my parents' feet. At the same time, I stood there completely dry, pulsing with a mixture of anger and disbelief.

Their eyes widened, but they didn't flinch. Instead, my mother's expression softened into one that resembled concern. "Winter—"

"No!" I interrupted, feeling fury rush through me like electricity. "Maybe it's not a big deal to you, but it is to me! I matter too!" I was furious, and the frustration boiled over, the hurt swelling until I was ready to burst.

Without waiting for another word, I turned on my heel and stormed out of the kitchen, the echo of my emotions chasing after me like shadows. Each step felt heavier than the last, disappointment carving deeper holes in my resolve. My mind raced; I couldn't remember the last time I had felt so alone, even in a house filled with people. I needed them to understand my world, to be part of it, not just observers on the sidelines.