CHAPTER TWO: MOM OR DAD?

Jasper watched as Xianne returned to her spot after speaking with their coach. That’s when he overheard the conversation between her and Michelle.

He found out she didn’t make it into the next tournament. Her expression said it all—disappointment and sadness clouded her usually bright face. Jasper was surprised. Xianne, their star player, had never lost a match in any tournament they joined. How could she not get in?

In contrast, Jasper had made it—and he still couldn’t believe it.

“You did a great job in the last game. Don’t belittle your efforts, Jasper. I saw how hard you worked to earn this. I know you don’t always win, but this time, you showed everyone you can rise, even after falling so many times. Keep going,” Coach Jay told him.

“Thank you, Coach. I’ll do my best for the team.”

Coach Jay nodded, a proud smile spreading across his face.

But no matter how many good things happened, bad ones always seemed to follow—like unwelcome guests crashing a celebration.

“I’m home...” Jasper called out as he opened the front door.

But once again, the first thing he heard was his parents fighting. It wasn’t anything new. Ever since he could remember, their house had echoed with screaming matches, hurtful words, and the sound of things being thrown in anger.

Despite growing up in that kind of environment, Jasper had a strong sense of right and wrong—thanks to his grandmother. She raised him with love and wisdom until she passed away when he was just eight. Her words still echoed in his heart, guiding him even now at twelve years old. Nothing in this house surprised him anymore.

The only thing he was thankful for was being an only child. No one else had to suffer like he did.

“What?!” his mother shouted.

“I said let’s get divorced. We lived in California for three years—we’ll file there.”

“In front of your son?! Fine! I’m taking custody!”

“Jasper can choose! He’s old enough to decide! You’ve always been so selfish!”

“And now I’m the selfish one?!”

Jasper could only sigh as he climbed the stairs and shut himself in his room. He sat on his bed, thoughts swirling. Who would he choose? Mom or Dad?

The truth? He didn’t want to choose either.

He didn’t love either of them. Aside from making sure his education and financial needs were met, they had no real relationship with him. No warmth. No real care.

He had no good memories with them—except for a few fleeting moments with his mom when he was younger, and only one memory of bonding with his dad.

“This is so exhausting...” Jasper whispered, letting out another sigh.

He decided to go to the badminton training area to clear his mind. When he came downstairs, he saw his dad watching TV. Jasper assumed the fight was still ongoing.

“Where are you going, Jas?” his father asked, voice firm and sharp.

“I’m going to train for a while. I’ll be back before dinner.”

“Okay. Make sure to join us. Your mother went out to buy ingredients. She’s cooking tonight.”

Jasper blinked in disbelief.

“That’s unusual…” he thought. “Mom never cooks for us.”

Still, he nodded. “Yes, Dad.”

When Jasper arrived at the training area, he expected silence—maybe the rhythmic thud of shuttlecocks echoing through the space, maybe the hum of the lights above. But what he didn’t expect was to see her there.

Xianne stood at the far end of the court, her form illuminated by the afternoon light that filtered through the high windows. Her movements were sharp but tired—every swing of her racket was precise, yet weighed down by something heavier than physical exhaustion. It was as if she was trying to hit the sadness away, one shuttle at a time.

Jasper paused at the entrance. For a second, he just watched her. Alone. Determined. Hurt.

She hadn’t noticed him yet, too focused on her own quiet storm.

He took a breath and stepped onto the court.

“Hey…”

Xianne stopped, her racket mid-air, surprised by the voice.

“Jasper?” she asked, lowering her arm. Her voice was low, almost cautious.

“You okay?” he asked gently, walking toward her.

She gave a dry chuckle and looked away. “Do I look okay?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he grabbed a shuttle from the basket and tossed it in the air, hitting it toward her.

She caught it with her racket easily.

“I thought we could practice,” he said. “Unless… you want to be alone.”

For a moment, she didn’t respond. Then, she softly said, “No. I think I need someone here right now.”

They began playing—no score, no rules. Just soft rallies, back and forth. The sound of the shuttlecock was their only rhythm, the court their quiet refuge.

After a few minutes, Xianne broke the silence.

“You got in,” she said, her tone unreadable.

Jasper hesitated before replying. “Yeah... I did.”

“I’m happy for you,” she said, though her eyes were focused on the shuttlecock in her hand. “You deserved it.”

Jasper’s grip on his racket tightened. “But you did, too.”

She looked at him, surprised.

“I saw how hard you worked, Xianne. Everyone did. You’re the best player we have.”

Xianne gave a faint smile—sad and small. “Maybe being the best doesn’t matter when life has other plans.”

Jasper wanted to say something—anything—to take away even a fraction of her pain. But instead, he hit another shuttle toward her.

They kept going, back and forth, the silence between them filled with everything they couldn’t say out loud.

Two players. One court. Two heavy hearts.

And for a while, in that space between noise and quiet, pain and motion—they found comfort in the rhythm of their shared silence.