Caitlin had just finished her game against the Phoenix Mercury. The Fever had pulled off another win, and her parents had been in the stands to witness it. On the surface, everything seemed perfect, Caitlin couldn't have been more excited that her parents were there to watch that game, but the truth was, Caitlin was exhausted. Four consecutive away games had drained her, and the emotional weight of her personal life made it hard to savor the victory.

As Caitlin trudged into the post-game press conference, her body felt heavy, like she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. The adrenaline of the game was fading, leaving behind a hollow ache that gnawed at her insides. Her muscles were tired, but it was more than just physical fatigue—it was the relentless pressure that was slowly wearing her down. The expectation to always perform at her peak, to be the face of her team, to be the player everyone compared others to—it was suffocating. And lately, she felt like she was drowning in it.

Sitting at the table in front of the media, she plastered on a smile that didn't reach her eyes. The room buzzed with excitement over the Fever's recent success, but Caitlin felt disconnected, like she was watching everything from behind a glass wall. The questions started rolling in, and she answered them on autopilot, her mind wandering as the reporters fired off one query after another.

Then, one reporter's voice cut through her haze. "Caitlin," he began, his tone measured, but with an edge that made her stomach clench, "lately, you seem a bit... distant during key moments. Not as sharp or as animated as we're used to seeing. Is something going on? Can you tell us why that might be?"

Caitlin's heart sank, but she kept her expression neutral, offering only a curt nod. "I'm just focused on the game," she replied, her voice steady despite the turmoil underneath.

The sharpness in her tone was unlike her, and she could feel the tension in the room spike. The silence that followed was thick, suffocating, and Caitlin could feel every eye on her, analyzing, judging. She quickly looked down at the table, willing herself to keep it together, to not let the cracks in her facade show any more than they already had.

From the corner of her eye, Caitlin noticed Aliyah glancing at her, a look of quiet concern on her face. Aliyah didn't say anything, but the reassurance in her eyes was palpable. 

After the press conference, as they were leaving the room, Aliyah caught up with Caitlin, whispering, "You sure you're good? You seemed off in there." Caitlin forced a smile. "Yeah, just tired. Don't worry about it." But even as she said it, she knew the words were hollow.

That evening, Caitlin met her parents, Brent and Anne, at their hotel. They decided to order takeout and eat in the room, hoping to avoid the throngs of fans. As they settled into the quiet comfort of the room, Caitlin tried to push aside the day's stress and focus on her parents. But the pressure of her life was like a constant, heavy presence she couldn't shake.

Anne watched her daughter closely, noticing the tiredness in her eyes, the forced smile. "Caitlin, are you okay?" she asked, her voice filled with concern as they started to eat.

Caitlin forced herself to smile, though it felt brittle. "Yeah, of course, Mom. I'm fine. I wish everyone would stop asking me that."

Anne wasn't convinced. She knew her daughter well enough to see through the facade. "You just seem so tired, and that's okay. Just don't be so hard on yourself."

Caitlin nodded quickly, trying to end the conversation before it dug too deep. "I promise, I'm okay. Yeah I'm tired, but I'm living the dream, right? This is what I've always wanted. Once the Olympic break comes, I'll be back to normal."

Anne's eyes lingered on Caitlin, the motherly instinct telling her that something was off, that there was more beneath the surface. "You don't seem fine," she said softly, "I wish you would talk to me instead of keeping everything inside."

Caitlin's chest tightened at the plea. She hated lying to her mom, but the truth felt too heavy to share. She didn't want to add to her parents' worries, especially when it came to her complicated feelings.

The next morning the Caitlin and her team took flight to Las Vegas, where they would be playing the Aces. Caitlin was feeling a tad lighter, having excitement because she  was getting to see Kate again. She was looking forward to the dinner they were going to have with their former Iowa coach, Lisa Bluder. The idea gave her a sense of familiarity.

As Caitlin and Kate drove through the bustling streets of Las Vegas, the tension between them was softened by the familiar rhythm of their friendship. Kate shot Caitlin a mischievous grin. "So, I hear you've racked up three technical fouls already this season. Really, Caitlin? Trying to set a record or something?"

Caitlin rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a smile. "Oh please, like you wouldn't have done the same if the refs were as terrible as they've been. Plus you've issued me more in practice."

Kate laughed. "True, but I might have made it four just for fun."

Caitlin smirked. "Guess I'm slacking then. I'll have to step it up next game."

Kate shook her head, still grinning. "Just don't get yourself benched, Cait. I'd hate to see you on the sidelines with nothing to do but pout."

When they arrived at the restaurant, dinner with Coach Bluder and Megan was a joyful reunion filled with stories and laughter. But as the evening drew to a close, Coach Bluder's demeanor shifted. She asked Caitlin to step aside for a private conversation, her eyes filled with concern.

"Caitlin," Bluder began, her voice gentle but firm, "I've known you for four years. I can tell when something's off."

Caitlin swallowed hard, her defenses rising instinctively. "It's just the season, Coach. I'm tired."

Bluder shook her head, her gaze never leaving Caitlin's. "It's more than that. I've seen you push through exhaustion before, but this... this is different. You're not just tired, you're carrying something heavy, something that's wearing you down."

Caitlin looked away, trying to keep her composure. "I don't want to be a burden."

"You're not a burden," Bluder said softly. "You're human, Caitlin. It's okay to feel overwhelmed. And it's okay to love who you love."

Caitlin's head snapped up, her heart racing. "Coach..."

Bluder smiled gently, placing a hand on Caitlin's shoulder. "I'm not blind, Caitlin. I saw how you and Sam were with each other. Love isn't something you need to hide or be ashamed of. I care about you, and I just want you to be happy, whatever that looks like for you."

Caitlin's eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them away, nodding. "Thank you, Coach. I just... it's been hard."

"I know," Bluder replied, her voice thick with empathy. "But you don't have to go through it alone. Remember, I'm always here if you need someone to talk to."

As they left the restaurant, Caitlin's thoughts were a whirlwind of emotions. In the car, Kate noticed her silence and asked, "What did Bluder say to you?"

Caitlin took a deep breath, the words catching in her throat. "She knows about Sam."

Kate laughed softly, not the least bit surprised. "Did you really think she wouldn't? You and Sam were not always the most discreet in the gym."

Caitlin smiled faintly, a mix of relief and unease washing over her. "I guess I didn't think anyone noticed."

Kate glanced at her, her expression softening. "We all noticed, Cait. But no one cared. We just wanted you to be happy."

Caitlin looked out the window, her heart heavy with the truth she had been avoiding. "I miss her, Kate."

Kate reached over, squeezing Caitlin's hand. "I know you do. But you're going to be okay."

Caitlin nodded, but as they pulled up to the hotel, the weight of the conversation with Bluder lingered, a storm brewing inside her that she wasn't sure how to calm.

The next day, the Fever faced off against the Aces. The arena was electric, but Caitlin felt like she was moving through fog. The pressure, the expectations, the unresolved emotions—it all swirled inside her, threatening to pull her under.

During the first quarter, Caitlin was dribbling down the court, Jackie Young guarding her closely. But as she made a move, her foot slipped, and she lost control of the ball. It rolled out of bounds, and Caitlin went down on her knees, the impact sending a sharp burn through her skin.

But she didn't get up right away. She stayed on her hands and knees, her head hanging low as the world around her spun. Her breathing grew heavier, the noise of the arena fading as she fought to hold herself together.

Jackie noticed Caitlin's struggle and crouched down beside her, pretending to retie her shoe to give Caitlin a moment. "Are you okay?" Jackie asked quietly, concern in her voice.

Caitlin didn't respond, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She could feel the tears threatening to spill, her vision blurring as the pressure inside her finally broke.

Jackie leaned closer, her voice soft but firm. "I know you're tired, but you've got to get up."

Caitlin looked up at Jackie, her eyes watery and filled with exhaustion. Jackie offered a small, understanding smile. "Pretend to tie your shoe," she instructed gently. "Untie it, then tie it again. Take a moment."

Caitlin did as she was told, her hands shaking slightly as she focused on the simple task. Then Jackie added, "Take a deep breath and let's play some basketball."

Caitlin nodded, her heartbeat slowing as she took a deep breath. Slowly, she pushed herself to her feet, the noise of the arena crashing back into her consciousness. The game resumed, but Caitlin knew that something had changed. And for the first time in a long time, Caitlin wasn't sure if she could hold it all together.

The Fever struggled to keep up, their plays falling apart under the relentless pressure of Las Vegas. Caitlin, usually the team's anchor, found herself stumbling through the game, her energy sapped, her focus scattered. Every shot felt forced, every pass a struggle. The final score was brutal—a wide margin that reflected just how outmatched they had been.

Caitlin tried to put on a brave face, even cracking a joke with Kelsey Plum after the game. But inside, she was crumbling. As the team made their way to the locker room, the weight of the loss settled heavily on her shoulders. Their coach, Sides, informed Caitlin that she'd need to do the post-game interview, but Caitlin quickly deflected, claiming she wasn't feeling well. Sides, who had noticed Caitlin's recent struggles, gave her a concerned look but didn't press the issue, sending someone else instead.

As the team prepared to leave the arena, Sides approached Caitlin again. "Are you still leaving with Kate, or are you coming with us?"

"I'm leaving with Kate," Caitlin replied, forcing a smile. "We wanted to get some pictures."

Sides nodded. "Alright, we'll see you back at the hotel. And Caitlin..., you played your heart out tonight, and that's all that matters."

"Thanks, Coach," Caitlin said, though the words felt hollow.

Once the team left, Caitlin lingered in the locker room, the adrenaline from the game fading into a heavy exhaustion. She sat down on the bench, her hands trembling as the silence pressed in on her. The walls felt like they were closing in, and all the emotions she'd been bottling up surged to the surface. Tears spilled down her cheeks, her body shaking as the sobs she'd been holding back broke free.

She buried her face in her hands, her mind racing with doubts and fears. I can't do this anymore, she thought, the realization hitting her like a punch to the gut. I'm not strong enough.

Just then, the door creaked open, and Kate walked in, wondering what was taking Caitlin so long. She froze when she saw her best friend curled up on the bench, her body wracked with sobs.

"Caitlin?" Kate's voice was soft, filled with concern as she hurried to Caitlin's side.

Caitlin looked up, her face streaked with tears, her eyes red and puffy. "I can't... I can't do this anymore, Kate," she whispered, her voice breaking.

Kate wrapped her arms around Caitlin, holding her as she cried. "It's okay," she murmured. "I'm here."

But Caitlin didn't feel okay. She felt like she was drowning, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't keep her head above water. And for the first time, she couldn't hide it anymore. She couldn't pretend that everything was fine, because it wasn't. She was breaking, and she didn't know how to put herself back together.