The Indiana Fever flew home the morning after their game against the Las Vegas Aces. Tired but resolute, they knew there was no time for rest, with practice scheduled for later that day. Caitlin could feel the fatigue in her bones, but it wasn't just physical. There was something heavier weighing on her, a burden she couldn't shake.

Practice began as usual, but for Caitlin, nothing was going right. Her shots were off, she passed the ball too quickly, and her defense was almost non-existent. Her teammates noticed, but they said nothing, assuming she was just having an off day.

Then, the breaking point came.

Caitlin had a wide-open layup—an easy shot, something she could usually make without thinking. But her hand slipped, and the ball bounced off the rim. Frustrated, she grabbed the rebound, slamming the ball down onto the court with all her might. The ball rebounded unexpectedly, hitting her square in the face.

"Fuck!" she yelled, more at herself than at the situation.

Katie Lou was the first to rush over, concern etched on her face, but Caitlin waved her off. She didn't want pity, didn't want to be coddled. She just wanted to be alone with her failures.

Sides, watching from the sidelines, saw the storm brewing inside Caitlin. After a few more seconds, she made a decision. "Caitlin, you're done for the day. Go home."

Caitlin didn't argue, didn't make excuses. She simply nodded and walked off the court. But going home wasn't an option. The last thing she wanted was to be alone with her thoughts in the silence of her apartment.

Instead, she headed to the weight room. The repetitive motion of lifting weights was something she could control, something that might help clear her mind. She pushed herself hard, doing rep after rep until her muscles burned and her breath came in ragged gasps.

The rest of the team finished practice, the locker room gradually emptying as everyone went their separate ways. But as Sides walked down the hallway, she heard the faint sounds of someone still working out. Curious, she followed the noise and found Caitlin in the weight room, drenched in sweat and clearly exhausted.

"Caitlin?" Christie called out as she stepped inside.

Caitlin paused mid-rep, then slowly put the weights down, turning to face her coach. There was a mix of guilt and defeat in her eyes. "I'm sorry... about practice."

Christie shook her head, walking closer. "It's okay. But do you want to tell me what's really going on?"

Caitlin took a deep breath, her emotions threatening to spill over. "I've just been feeling... not okay lately. It's like everything's piling up, and I don't know how to deal with it all."

Christie nodded, her face thoughtful but calm. "You've got a lot on your plate, Caitlin. The pressure of the season, all the expectations... it's a lot for anyone to handle."

"Yeah," Caitlin whispered, her voice barely audible. "But it's more than just that."

Christie listened intently, then asked, "Have you ever thought about talking to someone—like a therapist? It might help to have an outlet, someone who's trained to help you sort through everything."

"A therapist? No, I've never really given it any thought." Caitlin looked up, surprised by the suggestion. "Growing up, my family wasn't big on talking about feelings. We just kind of shoved them down, you know? So I never really learned how to deal with this kind of stuff."

"I get that," Christie replied with a small, understanding smile. "But I think it could be good for you. You think I haven't noticed something's been weighing on you? Something more than just the games or the practices."

She pulled out a small card from her pocket and handed it to Caitlin. "Here's the number of someone I trust. If you ever feel ready to talk, she's one of the best."

Caitlin hesitated before taking the card, reading the name and number printed neatly on it. With a soft chuckle, she said, "You just happened to have this lying around?"

Christie laughed lightly. "I did some research on the best therapists in the city, just in case you ever wanted to talk. I may not have all the answers, but I care about you as a player and as a person. I want to see you succeed, on and off the court."

Caitlin felt a wave of gratitude but also a renewed sense of the weight she was carrying. "Thanks, Coach. I really appreciate it."

As Caitlin left the weight room, she kept glancing at the card Christie had given her. It felt heavy in her hand, a small piece of paper that carried so much potential. Should she call? What if it didn't help? What if it only made things worse?

She couldn't get these questions out of her head. But she also couldn't deny the gnawing feeling that something had to change. The weight she was carrying, the pressure she felt—it was too much. Maybe talking to someone would help. Maybe it wouldn't. But doing nothing wasn't working, and she knew she couldn't keep going on like this.

By the time she got home, Caitlin had made up her mind. She sat on her bed, staring at the card for a long moment before finally picking up her phone. Her fingers trembled slightly as she dialed the number.

"Dr. Sandra Mitchell's office, how can I help you?" the receptionist answered.

"Uh, hi. My name is Caitlin. I was hoping to set up an appointment, the first available if possible," Caitlin said, her voice wavering slightly.

"Of course, Caitlin. We have an opening tomorrow at 10 AM. Does that work for you?"

"Yes, that works. Thank you."

After hanging up, Caitlin texted Kate: I know you've been worried about me, and I just wanted to let you know I got a therapist. Our first session will be tomorrow.

Kate's response came almost immediately: That's good, Cait. Let me know how it goes.

The next day, Caitlin arrived at Dr. Sandra Mitchell's office, still feeling unsure about what to expect. The waiting room was quiet and calming, with soft music playing in the background. When her name was called, Caitlin stood, her nerves on edge.

Dr. Mitchell greeted her warmly, guiding her into a cozy office decorated with warm colors and comfortable furniture. "It's nice to meet you, Caitlin. Please, make yourself comfortable."

Caitlin sat down, feeling a bit out of place. "Thanks... I've uh... never done this before."

"That's okay," Dr. Mitchell replied, her voice soothing. "This is a safe space, Caitlin. We can go at your pace, and you can share whatever you feel comfortable with."

Caitlin took a deep breath, trying to gather her thoughts. "I guess... it's just everything," she started, her voice uncertain. "The pressure of being in the league, you know? It's... a lot. I'm supposed to be this big star, the face of the league, but sometimes I feel like I can't handle it all."

Dr. Mitchell nodded, her expression understanding. "That sounds like a heavy burden to carry. Can you tell me more about what that pressure feels like for you?"

"It's like... everyone's watching me all the time," Caitlin explained, her words tumbling out now. "Every move I make, every game I play, it's like there's this expectation that I have to be perfect. I have to score the most points, make the best plays, be a leader... and it's just overwhelming. I'm afraid of letting everyone down if I don't live up to all that."

"Have you felt this way for a long time?" Dr. Mitchell asked, leaning in slightly, showing that she was listening closely.

Caitlin nodded, her gaze dropping to the floor. "Yeah, I guess I have. Even back in college, there was always this pressure. But now... it's different. Bigger. And it's not just about the game anymore. It feels like my whole life is under a microscope."

Dr. Mitchell studied her for a moment, sensing that there was more Caitlin wasn't saying. "You mentioned that it's not just about the game. Is there something else that's been on your mind, something that's making it harder to cope with all this?"

Caitlin hesitated, her heart racing. She knew what Dr. Mitchell was getting at, but she wasn't ready to go there. Not yet. She wasn't sure if she could trust anyone with that part of her life, not even a therapist.

"It's... complicated," Caitlin finally said, choosing her words carefully. "There's a lot I haven't figured out yet. I don't really know how to talk about it."

Dr. Mitchell nodded, not pushing further. "That's okay. You don't have to have all the answers right now. It's enough that you're here, taking this step to talk about what's on your mind. We can go at your pace."

Caitlin felt a small wave of relief at those words. She didn't have to reveal everything today. She could take her time, build trust, and maybe, eventually, she'd be ready to talk about the things she'd kept hidden for so long.

"I appreciate that," Caitlin said softly. "I just... I guess I need help figuring out how to deal with all this. The pressure, the expectations... it's starting to feel like too much."

Dr. Mitchell smiled reassuringly. "We can definitely work on that. There are techniques we can use to help you manage the stress and anxiety, especially in high-pressure situations like games. It's important to find ways to ground yourself, to stay present and focused."

Dr. Mitchell said gently. "When stress builds up, it can be difficult to manage without the right tools. One thing that can be really helpful, especially in high-pressure situations, is to practice mindfulness. Have you ever tried that before?"

Caitlin frowned slightly. "Mindfulness? Like meditation?"

"Exactly," Dr. Mitchell confirmed. "It's about being present in the moment, grounding yourself so that the stress doesn't overwhelm you. It can be particularly useful before or during a game when the pressure is high."

"How do I do that?" Caitlin asked, her curiosity piqued.

Dr. Mitchell nodded, leaning forward slightly. "Mindfulness can be a simple yet powerful tool. One technique is called 'box breathing.' You inhale slowly for four counts, hold your breath for four counts, exhale for four counts, and then pause for four counts before repeating. This not only helps to calm your mind but also slows down your heart rate, helping you feel more in control."

Caitlin listened carefully, trying to absorb the information. "So, it's like focusing on my breathing instead of everything else going on around me?"

"Exactly," Dr. Mitchell said with a smile. "You can use this technique when you start to feel overwhelmed, whether it's before a game or during a moment of high stress. The key is to bring your focus back to the present moment and remind yourself that you have the tools to manage what's happening."

Caitlin nodded, feeling a small sense of relief. "That sounds like something I could try."

As their session progressed, Caitlin found herself opening up more, discussing the pressures she felt from her family, the expectations she placed on herself, and how all of this had been building up inside her. 

But deep down, she knew there was still more to confront. The secrets she was keeping, the part of herself she hadn't yet shared—those were the things that truly weighed her down. For now, though, she would focus on the first steps, trusting that when she was ready, she could take the leap and face the rest.

As the session ended, Dr. Mitchell gave Caitlin one final piece of advice. "Remember, Caitlin, it's okay to take things one step at a time. You're not expected to handle everything perfectly, and it's important to be kind to yourself. You're taking the right steps by seeking help, and that's something to be proud of."

Caitlin left the office feeling lighter than she had in weeks. The tools Dr. Mitchell had given her didn't just feel like vague ideas—they felt practical, like something she could really use.

The Fever's next game was at home against the New York Liberty. As the team prepared to run out onto the court, Caitlin felt the familiar flutter of nerves in her stomach. It wasn't just pre-game jitters—it was the same overwhelming anxiety that had been haunting her for weeks.

The other girls were already heading out, but Caitlin hesitated. "I'm going to stay behind for a minute," she told them.

Lexie stopped, turning back. "You sure? We can wait."

Caitlin shook her head. "No, go ahead. I just need a minute."

The team reluctantly walked out without her, and Caitlin was left alone in the locker room. The silence was deafening, the pressure building up again. But then she remembered Dr. Mitchell's advice. She closed her eyes and began to practice the box breathing technique, focusing entirely on her breath—four counts in, hold for four, exhale for four, pause for four.

Gradually, her heart rate slowed, and the chaos in her mind began to quiet. She visualized herself on the court—confident, strong, in control. The nerves didn't disappear completely, but they no longer felt like they were suffocating her.

Feeling more centered, Caitlin finally stood up. She wasn't just running away from the pressure this time—she was facing it, armed with the tools she needed.

She jogged out onto the court just as the team began their warm-ups. Without missing a beat, Caitlin called them into a huddle. The look in her eyes told them everything they needed to know—something had changed.

"I know I haven't been focused lately, and I haven't been the best teammate," she began, her voice steady. "But today, that's going to change. I want to thank you all for sticking by me, even when I wasn't at my best. Now, let's go out there and win this game."

She raised her arm in the huddle, and the rest of the team followed. "Fever on three," Caitlin said, the determination clear in her voice.

"One, two, three—Fever!" the team shouted in unison, their voices echoing through the arena. As they broke from the huddle, Aliyah Boston added her signature "bow bow bow," eliciting cheers and laughter from the team as they got back to warming up.

The Indiana Fever were ready to take on the New York Liberty at home. The atmosphere in the arena was electric; fans packed the stands, their voices merging into a thunderous roar that reverberated off the walls. The energy in the air felt tangible, almost as if the entire arena was pulsing with anticipation.

As the game tipped off, Caitlin found herself in a familiar rhythm. Open on the perimeter, the ball came her way, and without hesitation, she set her feet, squared her shoulders, and released the shot.

The ball arced perfectly through the air, the entire crowd collectively holding its breath. Then, with a satisfying swish, it dropped cleanly through the net. Caitlin had made her third three-pointer of the game, and it was still only the first quarter. The crowd erupted, a deafening cheer that filled the arena.

Aliyah Boston, brimming with excitement, jogged over to Caitlin, giving her a playful chest push. "That's all you!" she shouted, her grin infectious. Caitlin couldn't help but smile back, a flicker of pride sparking inside her. This was the player she knew she could be—the one she had been trying so hard to find again.

As the game wore on, Caitlin continued to dominate, but her mind was solely focused on the task at hand. She was in the zone, every play unfolding in slow motion as she anticipated the next move. The first three quarters blurred by in a haze of high-intensity basketball.

Then, at the start of the fourth quarter, something remarkable happened. Caitlin soared up in the paint, snagging a crucial rebound. As soon as she landed, the entire arena rose to its feet, an uproarious cheer filling the space. Confused, Caitlin hesitated for a split second as she began to run up the court, the crowd's reaction throwing her off balance. She quickly passed the ball to Lexie Hull, who was fouled going for the shot.

The noise didn't die down; if anything, it grew louder. As the girls gathered in a quick huddle, Nalyssa Smith leaned in close, her voice just audible over the din. "Cait, you just got a triple-double!"

Caitlin blinked, the words not fully sinking in. But instead of letting herself get caught up in the moment, she refocused. "We still have a game to win," she replied, her tone steely. The girls nodded, and as they broke the huddle, Lexie moved to the line and Caitlin moved toward the backcourt.

However, the crowd's enthusiasm was beginning to creep into her consciousness, the weight of their expectations pressing down on her. The cheers, which had once been a source of motivation, now felt like pressure pushing in from all sides. Caitlin could feel her anxiety starting to bubble up again.

She quickly began her box breathing exercise, closing her eyes for just a moment as she walked. Inhale for four counts, hold for four, exhale for four, pause. Slowly, she felt her heartbeat steady, her mind clearing as the tension began to fade. When she opened her eyes, she felt in control again.

Seeing the crowd around her, Caitlin gestured for them to quiet down, lowering her hands on her sides , then a cut it gesture as to say bring it down. The fans quickly got the message, the noise dying down to a respectful hush so Lexie could focus on her free throws.

---

The final minutes of the game were intense, the score swinging back and forth with every possession. With 2:31 left on the clock, the Fever were down by three. The tension in the arena was palpable, every fan on the edge of their seat. Caitlin was calm, her earlier anxiety now replaced by a laser-sharp focus.

Clark drove to the basket, drawing contact and finishing strong for a three-point play. The excitement she felt not going unnoticed as she celebrated. The crowd roared as it was now a one possession game. On Liberty's next possession, they don't hit a shot giving the Fever a chance to tie the game.

Caitlin sees Kelsey Mitchell wide open down the court wasting no time, throwing her the ball and she drains a clutch three to put to tie the game. On the next play, Mitchell stole the ball, throwing it to Boston, who powered through for a layup, extending the lead to 79-75. The fans were in a frenzy, the noise almost deafening as the clock ticked down.

Ionescu managed to hit a three-pointer, narrowing the gap, but on the next possession, she missed another attempt to take the lead. Boston was fouled on the other end, and with 17 seconds left, she coolly sank both free throws, pushing the Fever's lead to 81-78.

The Liberty, desperate for a quick score, fouled Kelsey Mitchell, sending her to the line with just 11 seconds remaining. The arena fell silent as Mitchell took her shots, the tension almost unbearable. When she made both, sealing the game at 83-78, the crowd erupted in a joyous roar.

As the final buzzer sounded, the Fever players erupted in celebration. Caitlin stood in the center of it all, her teammates crowding around her, shouting and hugging. The cheers of the crowd washed over her, but this time, they didn't feel like pressure—they felt like support, like a celebration of everything she had fought to overcome.

The atmosphere in the Fever's locker room was buzzing with excitement after the game. The players were in high spirits, celebrating their hard-fought victory over the New York Liberty. As they began to settle down, Coach Christie Sides stood up, signaling for everyone's attention.

"Alright, everyone," Christie started, her voice carrying a mix of pride and joy. "Before we wrap this up, I've got some news to share. Caitlin Clark just recorded a triple-double. Not only is it