The arena erupts in thunderous applause as the announcer's voice booms over the loudspeakers: "As the music kicks off, Mia bursts onto the floor with incredible dynamism and flair! She starts with a series of explosive tumbling passes, her execution sharp and precise. She launches into a gravity-defying final tumbling run, twisting and flipping with stunning accuracy, and sticks the landing perfectly! The crowd goes wild as Mia clinches the silver medal for Team USA in gymnastics, delivering a performance that's truly spectacular!"

The lights feel刺眼 after the focused darkness of her routine, and the roar of the crowd嗡嗡作响 in your ears as you watch Mia stand on the medal podium, silver around her neck. Her parents cheer wildly from their seats, but you notice her gaze drifting toward the empty gold medal position beside her.

When the ceremony finally ends and you meet her in the lobby, she collapses into your arms immediately, her body still warm and slightly sticky from exertion. The scent of sweat and her favorite citrus body wash fills your nostrils as she buries her face in your shoulder. You can feel the tension in her muscles—the result of years of training and the stress of competition.

"I guess I did it, didn't I?" she says quietly, her voice muffled against your shirt. There's no elation in her tone, only exhaustion and something heavier—disappointment, perhaps, or the familiar shadow of comparison to her sister.