The Weight of the Race

Esther Hawkins stood at the edge of the track, arms folded, pretending she wasn’t nervous. Her long legs shifted restlessly, cleats digging small dents into the ground. The sun was beating down, her classmates shouting, banners waving. Everyone was watching. She was the final runner for Class 4’s relay, the one who had to make it or break it.

She took a deep breath, steadying herself. That was when the dull ache twisted in her abdomen, low and insistent. Shit. Not now. She knew the feeling instantly—the sudden, inconvenient start of her period. Her stomach clenched, and she bent forward slightly, covering it with a hand as if tying her laces.

“Hey, you good?” The voice came from her teammate, Daniel, tall and lean, waiting to hand her the baton. His brown eyes lingered, not just in concern but in that way boys sometimes looked at her when they thought she didn’t notice.

“I’m fine,” Esther muttered, forcing a smile. “Just focus on your leg, okay? Don’t trip or anything.”

He chuckled, but his gaze lingered on her a beat too long. “You’ll carry us, like always.”

The words hit differently. She felt warmth—not just the kind creeping from her stomach, but something else, something more dangerous with so many eyes around.

Between Pain and Desire

The gunshot cracked, the race began, and Esther’s world narrowed. She wasn’t just running; she was fighting against her own body, every stride threatening to remind her of the discomfort she tried to ignore. The baton passed from hand to hand, the noise of the crowd blurring into a steady roar.

By the time Daniel surged toward her, Esther’s heart was already in her throat. He thrust the baton forward, their hands brushing—his palm hot, fingers grazing hers. That split-second touch felt like more than a handoff.

She bolted. The wind lashed her face, the ground pounded beneath her, and she ran as if the ache in her body didn’t exist. Her ponytail whipped against her neck, sweat rolling down her temple. Every muscle screamed, but so did her pride.

She crossed the finish line a breath before Class 3’s runner. The stands erupted. Her classmates swarmed her, shouting her name, hugging her, bouncing in unison. But through all the chaos, her eyes found Daniel’s. He wasn’t cheering. He was just staring at her with this proud, almost tender smile. It made her skin prickle.

Later, after the medals and announcements, after the teachers left them to their celebrations, Esther slipped away to the back of the gym to breathe. The ache had sharpened, and she leaned against the wall, wiping her forehead with her sleeve.

“You okay?” Daniel’s voice again, softer this time. He’d followed her.

She forced a laugh. “Guess I’m just… tired. You know.”

His eyes flicked down for a second, as though he guessed more than she admitted. She didn’t want him to, yet part of her did.

The Locker Room Secret

It was quiet inside the girls’ locker room, the smell of detergent and faint perfume hanging in the air. Esther thought she was alone until the door creaked and Daniel slipped inside.

“Wrong room, genius,” she whispered sharply, half-angry, half-thrilled.

He grinned sheepishly. “I just wanted to make sure you’re really okay. You looked pale out there.”

She crossed her arms, trying to ignore the dampness between her legs, the ache deepening. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“And yet I am.” He stepped closer. “Esther, you don’t always have to act strong, you know.”

The words cracked something in her. Maybe it was the adrenaline from the race, maybe the heat of his body so close, or maybe just the raw need to be seen not as the perfect class monitor, but as a girl—messy, flawed, and craving.

She let out a shaky laugh. “You have no idea what’s going on with me right now.”

His hand brushed her arm, light, testing. “Then maybe tell me.”

Her breath caught. She didn’t. Instead, she leaned into him, her lips brushing his cheek before grazing the corner of his mouth. It was reckless, stupid—anyone could walk in—but the thrill made her dizzy. He kissed her back, tentative at first, then firmer, his hand cupping her waist, pulling her closer.

The contact sent shivers racing down her spine, drowning out the discomfort. For a moment, she wasn’t the athlete, the monitor, the responsible one—she was just Esther, a girl pressed against a locker with a boy’s lips on hers.

A Dangerous Kind of Relief

When they finally broke apart, breathless, Esther laughed softly. “This is insane. You know that, right?”

Daniel smirked, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Maybe. But it feels… worth it.”

Her stomach twisted again, reminding her cruelly of reality. She groaned, pressing her forehead against his chest. “God, you picked the worst possible day.”

He tilted her chin up, eyes warm. “Or maybe the best. You don’t always have to carry everything alone. Let me, just for once.”

She didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. His arms wrapped around her, steady and sure, while she let herself sink into the comfort.

The sounds of laughter and celebration echoed faintly outside, but in here, in this small stolen moment, Esther felt something she hadn’t in a long time—relief. Not just from the race, not just from the pain, but from the weight of always being strong.

And maybe, just maybe, she let herself want more.