Jack Draper

INTRODUCTION The crowd at Wimbledon Championships was still buzzing as Jack Draper stepped off the grass court, his breath heavy, his mind louder than the applause behind him. He adjusted the strap of his bag, eyes down, replaying the match point again and again. Winning should’ve felt different—lighter somehow—but today, something lingered. Across the city, far from the roar of Centre Court, Romy sat quietly on the cool metal benches of a clay practice court. The evening air wrapped around her as she watched an empty net sway slightly in the breeze. On the back of her shirt, the words “Play Tennis. Get lots of sleep. Drink plenty of water.” felt almost ironic—simple rules for a life that didn’t feel simple at all. She hadn’t come to watch the tournament. Not really. She told herself she just liked the calm of empty courts, the echo of a game without pressure. But deep down, she knew she was waiting—for something, or maybe someone. That same evening, as Jack’s car slowed near a quiet training facility—an unusual detour from his usual route—he glanced out the window and noticed a lone figure by the court. For a moment, the noise in his head stopped