"Mac, who do you think will win?" Jennifer asked, her eyes fixed on the field.

"I don't know yet, and I think the audience is unsure too," Mac replied, his gaze on the match.

For the past hour, two girls in white skirts and T-shirts had battled fiercely on the court, sweat glistening on their foreheads as they gripped their racquets with determination. The whistle blew, signalling the end of the match. They both stood at the net, breathing heavily, and gave each other a nod of respect. The result was obvious.

"The gold medal goes to Sierra Bennett. Congratulations," the announcer's voice echoed through the hall.

Sierra's eyes widened in disbelief and joy as the crowd erupted in cheers and applause.

Her opponent, Lily Anderson, approached with a warm smile and extended her hand. "Congratulations, Sierra," Lily said sincerely.

"Thank you," Sierra replied, her voice filled with emotion as she shook Lily's hand gratefully.

Lily nodded, her own eyes sparkling with pride. "You earned it."

As they stood together, surrounded by the cheering crowd, their shared victory was marked by a newfound respect between them. Despite the fierce com-

petition, an unspoken bond had formed, grounded in their mutual love for the sport.

Standing on the podium, Sierra felt the weight of the medal in her hand, a tangible reward for her dedication and hard work. She smiled, lifting the medal slightly higher as pride welled up inside her.

Her father's words echoed in her mind: "Making a dream come true is not easy. After all, fruits take time to ripen."

As a child, these words puzzled Sierra. She didn't understand the link between fruits and dreams. Did her father want to eat fruits? The question had lingered in

her young mind.

Now, Sierra was beginning to grasp the metaphor. Her father's words were not about literal fruits but about patience and perseverance.

Just as fruits need time to grow and ripen before being enjoyed, dreams also require nurturing, effort, and time.

"Congratulations, Sierra," her coach said as he approached, his voice full of pride and admiration. Vince Ferguson, her mentor for the past three years, was a man in his forties, disciplined and known for being hard to please.

Sierra beamed at her coach, the weight of his words adding to the significance of her achievement. "Thank you, Vince," she replied, her voice soft with emotion.

Vince nodded, a rare smile crossing his usually stern face. "You've worked incredibly hard for this moment, Sierra. You've truly earned it."

She felt a swell of gratitude and pride. Vince had pushed her to her limits, often challenging her to surpass her expectations. His guidance had been instrumental in her journey to this point.

As they stood together, the crowd's cheers continued to echo around them. Sierra took a moment to soak in the atmosphere—the flashing cameras, the congratulatory shouts from fans and fellow athletes. It was a moment she knew she would cherish forever.

Vince clapped her on the shoulder. "Enjoy this moment, but remember, this is just the start. There's much more to achieve."

Sierra nodded, her eyes shining with determination. "I know, and I'm ready for whatever comes next." Vince gave her a reassuring smile and turned to leave, giving Sierra a moment to herself atop the podium.

After stepping down from the podium, Sierra went to the showers. Once refreshed, she dressed in a black and-white striped long-sleeved top and black jeans.

Running a hand through her short, dark blue hair, she felt a surge of confidence. As she emerged from the changing room, Vince was waiting nearby, ready to

take her home.

"Ready to leave?" he asked.

"Yes," Sierra replied.

"Come on then, let's go. Your family is probably waiting for you," Vince said. Weekdays were busy for them with work and school, so he was always the one to

pick her up and drive her home.

The journey was quiet, punctuated only by soft background music. Sierra felt a wave of fatigue and hunger; she was eager to get home, eat, and rest. Most of

all, she looked forward to reuniting with her family.

Through the rear-view mirror, Vince noticed Sierra yawning. "Tired?" he asked gently. She nodded in response. Without another word, he increased his speed slightly.

Though he had initially seemed intimidating, Sierra had come to realise that Vince was kind-hearted beneath his stern exterior.

As she gazed out of the window, her thoughts drifted to her passion for tennis. Her dream of representing her country had begun to take shape, with today's victory marking a significant step forward.

Sierra recalled how her love for tennis had started at the age of six, with her father as her first coach. She cherished the memory of his patient lessons, while her mother ensured she had her favourite foods to keep her energy levels high.

I hope my passion for tennis never fades like my other interests, she thought to herself.