Chapter 1 – New Flames and Old Games

The frazzled woman walked up and down in front of a heavy oak door. She kept tracking the lethargic arms of the ornate clock mounted up on the far wall, sighing more than once to attract the attention of the immaculate secretary who was seated behind the desk, looking far too busy (or at least pretending very well) to notice the subtle calls. A monotonic beep seemed to breathe life into the secretary, who looked up and motioned the woman inside with a curt, "You can go inside now." The woman sighed, and walked inside, her eyes skipping over the sign affixed next to the door: Spencer Hastings, Divorce Lawyer.

The lawyer looked formidable yet so surprisingly…young. The woman had expected someone far more experienced; the reputation of this particular lawyer was so great that one immediately pictured a wizened man with eyes brimming with years of wisdom. Yet the girl seated behind the ebony table looked hardly in her mid-twenties.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Stone. I'm sorry to have kept you waiting", a clear voice enunciated, and a brisk professional smile painted the lawyer's face. "Let's get started."

The swimming pool was calm and empty. The early red of the dawn seeped in through the skylight and the blue shimmer of the chlorinated water seemed muted, withdrawn. An olive skinned girl slowly strode to the edge of the pool, and in one fluid movement, executed a clean, elegant dive into the still waters, making hardly a ripple. She swam rounds around the large perimeter of the Olympic sized pool with crazed speed yet precise technique.

"Save some for the actual Games, Fields", a husky voice echoed. A woman wearing a swimsuit sat down on the benches lining the side of the pool. The figure in the pool didn't stop until her tenth round was complete. Ten rounds in a flat forty five point seven eight seconds. The coach looked surprised. The athlete was faster than usual today. Usually this meant bad news.

Emily Fields, a highly skilled swimmer who had already bagged three golds and innumerable silvers in several National competitions was supposed to be practising for the Olympics. She slowly pulled out of the water, her usually cheerful expression replaced by a masked demeanour. "I don't think I can make it to the Games, coach."

"Ha-ha. Nice joke, Fields. Now listen, there's a press conference for the team tomorrow. You'll have to reschedule the practice since you're captain. Also, Sports Illustrated wants to do a photo shoot with you and the team, so let me know when-"

"I'm not joking. I quit", Emily interrupted, shifting uneasily on her feet. She knew what reaction she was going to face, from her family, her team, her coach, and the media. It hadn't been an easy choice. But she saw no other option. Before her coach could even answer, she continued, "I can't do this. I'm not looking for a professional career in swimming. I know I should have thought of it earlier, but I just…" she sighed, before steeling herself and continuing, "I can't. It takes too much dedication. And I just can't sacrifice my life for the game. Sorry, coach. I'll talk to the team and the media at the conference tomorrow."

"Are you absolutely sure?" the coach asked, raising her eyebrows at the woman in front of her. She was seeing a side of Emily Fields that she had never before encountered in her life and it scared her a little. This was going to mean losing the gold this year, and she knew it.

"Yes. I've given it a lot of thought. Sorry." Emily looked apologetic, and turned around, walking towards the changing rooms to take off the US Team emblazoned swimsuit that she had probably worn for the last time in her life.

Spencer drove her grey BMW X6 effortlessly, weaving through the busy NYC traffic and finally finding the highway out of there. As soon as she hit the highway, her taut muscles seemed to relax and she settled back in the comfortable leather seat, pressing down on the gas and rushing towards home. She knew what awaited her there. Her Toby.The thought of his crooked smile and flashing eyes brought an echo of his familiar grin on her lips and she drifted away in pleasant musings about her fiancé. She was so lost in her thoughts that she did not notice the police sirens trailing her fast moving vehicle until the blue and red lights were almost upon her. She cursed under her breath and slowed down to respectable 40, then pulled over.

She didn't panic, but put on her best serious expression, and straightened her designer jacket and tie. "Hello, officer", she greeted the policeman who came over to her window wearing a surly expression.

"In a hurry, ma'am? You were going well over 130 mph. Can I see some ID, please?" he spoke in a gruff voice, pulling at his collar anxiously. He sensed the power and affluence radiating from the woman in the car, but he tried to not let it intimidate him.

"Sure, officer." Spencer fetched her driving license and passed it over to him, and smiled in what she hoped was an apologetic way. The Hastings were never apologetic, so it didn't come naturally to her. "Can we please forget this ever happened? As you can see, I have a clean record, and I usually am a very law-abiding citizen. In fact, I'm a lawyer. I'm sure you've heard of Hastings & Hastings." Her tone was casual, yet pleasant. She hurried to add, "This will never happen again, officer. It's just that I have a very important meeting, so I accidentally rushed." She even batted her eyelashes a few times, and then felt plain stupid, so she stopped.

The officer nodded, and then scratched his head. "Okay, Ms. Hastings. This time, I'll let you off with a warning. But please do be careful on the road." The cop put his notepad back in his pocket and walked back to his blinking car. Spencer sighed, the tension receding from her limbs. She pulled back onto the motorway, and hurried(at a reasonable pace) towards home.

Home was a sprawling three bedroom villa in a little town named Holbrook, about fifty miles from New York City. Holbrook had a town centre, an elementary, middle and high school and even a local college. Home was in a beautiful neighbourhood that sometimes reminded Spencer of Rosewood too much.

But Holbrook was much better. There was no A, no reminders of her past, no paranoia, nothing. Only peace. And love.

Spencer parked her car in the driveway and made her way inside, the smell of baking wafting to her nostrils through the opened kitchen doors. "Toby? Toby! I'm home." She paused mid-step at the kitchen door and felt her heart drop.

"What are you doing?" she felt a smile creep into her voice as she watched the familiar figure of Toby stooped over the kitchen counter, checking something in the oven.

Toby looked up, his azure eyes flashing as he smiled shyly at her. "I just baked some brownies for dessert. You took your time", he admonished playfully, tugging at the sleeve of his V-necked cashmere navy sweater, and wiped his hands on his apron. There was a smudge of flour decorating his cheek and Spencer stepped forward, brushing it away. "Sorry, work" she mumbled, before leaning in for a chaste kiss. Home, sweet home, indeed.

Emily stood in the rain, surveying a duplex in front of her. She was trying to muster up the courage to walk ahead and knock on the brightly painted red door that had an ornate knocker fixed to it. Her heart was hammering in her chest, and her stomach felt like it was filled with lead.

Her luggage was on the sidewalk beside her and her mind drifted off to a few months ago, when she had seen this red door for what she thought was the last time.

Flashback:

"Ari, you have to understand, swimming is not only my life, it's my living. It's my passion and it's my career. I have to practice a lot, I thought you understood!" Emily tried not to yell, massaging the sides of her temples with her forefingers.

The raven haired girl sitting opposite Emily clenched her hands into fists by her sides, and tried to take a deep breath. "I've. Always. Been. Supportive. Of. Your. Swimming." She was trying, really trying not to get into an argument. But it was so hard. "I love you, Em. But you're always at the pool. Either that, or you're sitting by the window, thinking about god knows what. We've been together for more than sixteen months but I still feel like you're a stranger to me, sometimes."

She got up from her chair and knelt next to Emily, pushing her dark fringe out of her dark eyes. "I know you need your space. I know you need your time. But if that means you have no time left for us, then I think there shouldn't be an us. That's all." There was an air of finality to the sentence and it hovered awkwardly in the air between the girls.

"Fine. You shouldn't have made me choose", Emily spat through gritted teeth, all niceties thrown out of the window. She got up and stormed through the door, banging it behind her with a resounding thud.

Emily could still hear that bang resonating in her ears, and the memory felt new, yet old. Like a tear-stained, revisited page from a favourite novel. Or a rerun of her favourite sitcom, F.R.I.E.N.D.S. She sighed and picked up her bags, walking up the porch to the front door. She rang the bell twice, and then crossed her arms, prepared to wait in the rain for however long it took. She was soaked and shivering already, so it didn't matter anymore.

The door swung open soon, and a startled image of her ex-girlfriend greeted Emily, who tried to wipe the moisture off her face and smile. "Can I come in?" she asked hesitantly, suddenly feeling super conscious about her appearance. Her naturally wavy hair was straight and hung in damp, messed up locks on her shoulders, and she was creased with travel and fatigue.

Arianna herself looked sleepy, wearing nothing but pyjama shorts and a cute tank top. According to Emily, she looked gorgeous, with her shoulder length brown locks all mussed and curly from sleep, and sans her usual plastic-framed black glasses. Emily just wanted to melt into her arms, but she stopped herself from feeling too hopeful.

"You're all wet." It was a statement, but it sounded like a question, so Emily shrugged, smiling a little sheepishly. "Come in", Ari said, almost stumbling over her own feet in her attempt to get outside to help Emily with her luggage. But instead of reaching for the luggage, she ended up fumbling for Emily, and pulled her clumsily into an embrace. She pulled back, and stared at Emily. Water clung to her lashes like dewdrops but it wasn't the moisture from rain that made her eyes appear glassy. She cupped Emily's neck and pulled her in for a kiss. Forgiveness had never tasted so sweet.