Page 2 of Seas the Day
“Same energy. Safe, predictable, zero chance of making you feel anything close to what you felt in Rio when you touched that wall first.” Jenna leaned forward. “It’s not that you’re stuck necessarily. You’re just choosing to stay small.”
The accusation landed with surgical precision, finding every doubt Navira had been carefully not thinking about. She pulled the towel tighter around her, armor against truths she wasn’t ready to face.
“This life is enough,” Navira said, but even to her own ears, the words sounded rehearsed. “This team, the routine, my independence. It matters.”
Jenna didn’t argue further, just gave her that look—the one that said she could see straight through the careful construction of Navira’s contentment to the restless energy beneath. And Navira hated that part of her, the part that wanted more out of life but didn’t know how to achieve it now.
Something inside Navira snapped. “That’s it for today,” she called out. “Good work everyone.”
Her students exchanged puzzled glances, treading water in confusion. Navira never cut sessions short. Jenna pushed off from the wall where she’d been leaning, her green eyes sharp with concern.
“Navira, we’ve got another thirty minutes?—”
“I know what time it is.” The words came out sharper than intended. “We’ll make up for it tomorrow.”
The girls began filtering out of the pool, their conversations echoing off the tile walls. Jenna lingered, clearly wanting to say something, but Navira turned away, focusing on the lane ropes with unnecessary intensity. After what felt like an eternity, the last footsteps faded. Navira sank into a crouch, the water stretching before her, perfectly still now—a mirror reflecting the harsh fluorescent lights above.
A memory came unbidden. Five years old, standing on the pool deck for the first time after her mother’s death, her father’s gentle hand on her shoulder.
“The water will help you, sweetheart,” her father had whispered, his voice thick with his own grief.
He’d been right, in ways neither of them could have imagined. Swimming had become her sanctuary, her identity, and her escape from the hollow ache where her mother’s laughter used to live. Every stroke had been a prayer, every race a chance to outrun the shadows that followed her.
Until that morning in Tokyo, when her life changed in an instant.
Another memory surfaced—one that played on repeat for the past five years—the snapping sound in her right shoulder during what should have been a routine warm-up at the Summer Olympics in Tokyo. Not career-ending, the doctors assured her that much. She could return to competition within eighteen months they’d told her as she was forced to withdraw from the Olympics that year.
But eighteen months had stretched into five years, and the fire that once burned in her chest had dimmed to barely glowing embers. She could have come back—her times in practice proved that. Yet something fundamental had broken that day, something the physical therapy couldn’t touch.
Jeremy had tried to understand, in his own way. “You’re being ridiculous,” he’d said, pacing their shared apartment. “You’re letting fear win. This isn’t the Navira I fell in love with.”
He’d been right about that last part, at least. The Navira he’d fallen in love with wouldn’t have recognized the woman staring at her reflection in the pool’s surface now—cautious where she’d once been fearless, content where she’d once been hungry.
TWO
NAVIRA
The sound of heels clicking against tile cut through her brooding like a knife. Sharp, purposeful steps that didn’t belong in an aquatic center. Navira looked up to see a petite woman approaching, her snow-white bob perfectly styled despite the humidity in the air. She wore a designer pantsuit in bright yellow, and confidence radiated from every precise movement.
“I was wondering how long it would take you to realize you still belong in the water.”
The woman’s voice carried a warmth that felt oddly familiar, though Navira was certain they’d never met. Her eyes were an unusual shade—bright blue that seemed to shift toward gold in the fluorescent light.
“I’m sorry, but the pool is closed to visitors.” Navira stood, instinctively pulling her towel tighter. “If you’re looking for public swimming?—”
“Oh, honey, I’m not here for a workout. I’m here for you.” She extended a manicured hand. “Gerri Wilder.”
Navira shook the offered hand, noting the woman’s surprisingly strong grip. “I don’t understand.”
“An elite coaching position. Off-world assignment. One month contract working with swimmers who make your Olympic teammates look like they’re treading water in molasses.” Gerri’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “The dean recommended you personally. Said you were the only coach on Earth qualified for this particular challenge.”
The words hit Navira like a rogue wave. “Off-world? As in...”
“Another planet, darling. Nova Aurora, to be specific. Gorgeous place—pink oceans, purple forests, two suns that make the sunsets absolutely divine.” Gerri spoke as casually as if she were describing a vacation resort in Florida. “The swimmers there are... let’s call them advanced. They need someone who understands water the way you do. Someone who’s felt what it means to be truly alive in it.”
Navira’s mind reeled. “This is insane. You’re talking about space travel, alien swimmers?—”
“Shifter swimmers, technically. Though I suppose that’s splitting hairs.” Gerri waved a dismissive hand. “The point is, they need a coach who won’t faint at the sight of a few extra teeth or fur. Someone with your particular... resilience.”
