Chapter 168 Care for a Cup of Coffee?

Chapter 168 Care for a Cup of Coffee?

Stephanie's POV

By my second week as coach, my life was finally settling into a rhythm.

Every afternoon at three o'clock, I'd show up at the gym right on time to lead practice.

The girls on the team had gone from shy and awkward at first to greeting me openly now.

But the one who left the deepest impression wasn't the most outgoing kid on the team—it was Mia, the quiet one who always shrank into corners and barely said a word.

Every time I saw her, it was like looking at my younger self.

I used to be exactly like that—silent, withdrawn, spending most of my time alone in corners, pouring all my thoughts and energy into training.

Without realizing it, I'd become more outgoing and talkative over the years, but I still found myself paying extra attention to Mia.

Only now did I fully understand what Deborah must have felt back then.

Deborah and I had known each other for years. Her care for me had always been quiet and unspoken. Most of the time, I'd even thought she was too strict.

Now I got it—too much obvious concern could backfire.

Like with Mia, I wasn't sure if she needed deliberate comfort or special attention. All I could do was silently hand her a hot towel and an ice pack after practice.

That day, after training ended, Mia—who was usually so quiet—actually started a conversation with me for the first time.

"Ms. Johnson, when you trained here before, did you ever have a move you just couldn't land no matter what?"

I was gathering up scattered training mats. I thought for a moment, then answered honestly, "Yeah. The week I was learning back handsprings, I ate it like fifteen times."

"And then?" Mia's eyes lit up. "How'd you finally get it?"

"Around the fifteenth fall, Deborah told me I needed to accept that I was going to fall over and over, and then I wouldn't be afraid anymore." I spoke softly. "After that, I stopped counting how many times I fell. I just relaxed and kept practicing, and eventually it clicked."

Mia nodded thoughtfully, crouching down and tracing patterns on the floor with the tip of her shoe, silently mulling over my words.

After practice ended, I was walking down the hallway back to my office when I heard quick footsteps behind me.

Mia hurried to catch up, then stopped and looked at me seriously. "Ms. Johnson, I want to try that move next week. I'll make sure I've got all the safety stuff ready."

"Okay. I'll be there with you, spotting you the whole time."

Mia's face broke into a smile. She waved at me, then turned and ran off.

That evening when I got back to my office to pack up, I found a box of chocolates on my desk.

No name, just a sticky note with wobbly handwriting: [Thank you for being honest with me.]

You could tell it had been written in a hurry. I held the chocolates and stared at the note for a long time, then couldn't help but smile softly. I tucked them into my bag.

That night at home, I told Christopher about it.

He looked at me seriously and said slowly, "You're earning your students' real trust."

Before I could respond, he added, "That's the best way to teach."

The serious, certain way he said it made me laugh.

For the first time, I truly felt my own value.

The days passed steadily like that.

During the day, I'd be at the gym with the girls—training, correcting form, occasionally chatting about everyday things. In the evenings, Christopher and I would eat dinner together, go for walks, talk about nothing in particular.

Life was quieter than I'd expected, but deeply fulfilling and stable—like walking down a clear, solid path I could trust.

One rainy day, practice ended early.

I was putting away equipment when I heard hurried footsteps outside. Mia rushed in clutching a paper bag.

She set the bag down on a mat and said quietly, "The cafeteria just baked these cookies. I was walking by and smelled them, and I remembered you said you like the thin, crispy kind, so I grabbed an extra one."

She gently pressed the bag into my arms, then immediately stepped back a few paces—like she was afraid I'd ask questions—and turned to run.

I looked down at the bag in my arms, watching her hurried retreat, and suddenly felt that coming back to coach had given me so much more than I'd ever expected.

That weekend, Christopher suggested we check out an old bookstore that had been around for years.

The shop was tucked into an unremarkable corner, with a small storefront but surprisingly spacious inside. Bookshelves stretched from floor to ceiling.

In a corner, I found a yellowed sketching tutorial. The cover was barely hanging on, and all the illustrations inside were hand-drawn.

Christopher leaned over and glanced at the price on the back. "Five dollars."

I was about to put it back when he took it from my hands, walked to the counter, paid, and handed it back to me.

"You can flip through it when you've got free time. Good way to pass the hours."

I took the book, looking at his earnest expression, warmth spreading through my chest. He always found these little ways to show me he was paying attention—to what I liked, to how I felt.

Afterward, we walked home along the riverfront path, him holding my hand at my side.

I tried to match his stride but accidentally ended up walking with the same arm and leg swinging forward. We caught each other's eyes and both burst out laughing.

During that time, we checked off so many places together.

On weekend mornings, we'd take the long route to the little crepe shop on the corner. Their crepes had thick, soft shells with a fine dusting of powdered sugar on top. One slice through, and warm berry jam would ooze out slowly.

Once, he ate too fast and got powdered sugar on the corner of his mouth. I pointed to the same spot on my own face to show him, but he wiped the wrong place. I had to reach over and brush it off for him myself.

I teased him for being clumsy, but then he suddenly got serious and asked, "I'm quite a bit older than you. If one day I'm old and can't walk anymore, will you still take care of me like this?"

"Of course I will," I said without hesitation. "Just like now. I'll always take care of you."

Christopher didn't say anything. When I turned to look at him, I saw his ears had quietly turned red.

The days were gentle and ordinary. Half a year passed in a blink.

Another evening, I finished packing up my office and was about to head out.

I pushed open the door and ran straight into someone.

The woman looked at me, smiled, and extended her hand. "I'm the new Dean of Students. I wanted to introduce myself. Do you have time to grab coffee?"

I stared at the woman's face, my eyes going wide with shock.