Chapter Text
“Meet me at the vending machine, okay Anya? I am going to grab a quick snack, you go get a drink at the fountain.”
As Annaliese emerged, thirst freshly quenched by the water fountain in the lobby of the tournament venue, the only thought in her head was to find her brother Sascha at the vending machine. At a mere seven years of age, she wasn’t used to being left alone, even for a few seconds - always having one of her brothers, or her mother, right there by her side. The 30 meter walk back to the vending machines from which she had begun her journey to reunite with Sascha seemed like an insurmountable quest, but Anya, as she was affectionately called by her family, was determined to make it.
Scurrying through the lobby with her tiny little legs, Anya kept her eyes peeled for any sight of her brother - Sascha Zverev - a tall, lanky boy with a shaggy haircut, a sun-kissed, dirty-blonde mop on his head, clad head to toe in nike apparel. Finally finding a boy who matched her description, she gave him three little taps on the shoulder.
“Sascha, I’m back”
Startled by the sudden touch, and curious about the little voice that seemed to be speaking Russian, Andrey quickly turned around, scanning the room for the source of the unexpected contact. His eyes darted through the crowd until they landed on little Annaliese, her wide-eyed gaze fixed on him.
“Hey, I don’t know - I think you might have the wrong person. I'm Andrey, not Sascha.” Andrey replies, his voice a little higher and little more shaky than Anya remembers Sascha’s to be.
“Oh, I'm sorry. You look like my brother Sascha - have you seen him?” questions Anya, a feeling of anxiety beginning to grow in the pit of her stomach.
“No problem. I haven’t seen your brother, my mum and I can help you find him?” the boy replies, his eyes a striking green, softening at the presence of the young girl.
“Okay, I-”
Just as Annaliese was about to accept Andrey’s offer, she felt a familiar hand on her shoulder. The rough callouses from playing tennis all day, brushing against her skin.
“Anya, stop bothering these people. I told you to meet me at that vending machine, why do you never listen?” Sascha chided, brows furrowed and voice an octave higher than normal.
Anya turned around, her face lighting up with relief as she saw her brother standing there with his trademark exasperated expression. She gave him a quick hug, thankful to have found whom she was looking for.
"I'm sorry, Sascha. I got lost, and then I thought I found you, but it was someone else," Anya explained, her eyes wide with innocence.
Sascha couldn't stay mad at his little sister for long. Tousling her hair affectionately, a small smile played on his lips. "It's alright, Anya. Just try to stay close next time, okay?"
“Hey, I’m so sorry about that. Anya always gets lost and annoys everyone near us. Are you playing in the tournament also?” He asks Andrey.
“Yeah I am. I’m Andrey Rublev, this is my mother Marina Marenko, it’s nice to meet you” The boy replies.
“Alexander Zverev. Germany. But everyone calls me Sascha. And this is my little sister Annaliese, but we all call her Anya.”
Marina joined in the introduction with a warm , but chilling smile. "Hello, Sascha and Anya. Are you both enjoying the tournament?" The intensity in her gaze lingered, making her presence felt like a subtle warning beneath the surface. Though there seemed to be something disconcerting about Marina’s countenance, Anya was just excited to meet new people.
Without giving Sascha a chance to formulate an answer, she piped in with a response.
“I’m not playing because I'm only 7, but Sascha is playing the under 14 tournament.”
Listening intently to the little girl’s squeaky voice, Marina asks “Ah Sascha, you must be around the same age as Andryusha here. Are your parents Irina and Alexander Zverev? I knew them back when we played tennis for the USSR.”
Sascha, taking the lead this time replied “Yeah they're our parents, that’s so cool! So how are you enjoying the tournament so far, Andrey?”
“It’s good, I think I'm playing well, so hopefully it turns out good.” responded Andrey, his coy demeanor slowly melting away as he became more familiar with the Zverevs.
“We should go now, you have practice soon. Andryusha, say bye to your new friends.” chimed Marina, a stern expression settling on her already drawn countenance. As Marina's gaze held steady, a subtle sense of seriousness seemed to accompany her previously warm disposition.
“Bye Sascha, Anya. Maybe I will see you around. Good luck in the tournament” replies Andrey, a disappointed look washing over his face. His shoulders slumped as he bitterly smiled, parting his goodbyes.
“Best of luck to you Sascha. Maybe you and Andrey can practice together in the future .Send my best regards to your parents, we should catch up.” Marina said, her tone holding a mix of cordiality and a feigned interest in the conversation.
“Bye! See you soon!” squeaked Anya, her tiny voice barely audible amongst the bustling lobby. Taking Sascha’s hand, she pulled him along as they went to the front of the lobby, where their mother Irina was waiting for them. As Annaliese and Sascha headed toward the exit, she clutched Sascha's hand tightly as the lobby's vibrant atmosphere slowly faded, replaced by the distant hum of excited chatter.
“Mein Dummerchen, couldn’t you just have waited for me where I told you to?” Sascha teased. Normally being called a silly little girl would have made Anya burst into waterworks, but she was still riding the high of having met a new friend. Andrey.
The soft glow of tournament lights illuminated the path ahead as they approached the exit doors. They walked together, the pavement beneath their feet echoing with the soft click of Sascha's tennis shoes. Squeezing Sascha’s hand as tightly as she could, Anya took comfort in this quiet moment, unable to stop thinking about the young boy they had encountered as they stepped into the car and drove back to the hotel.
As the car glided through the night, Anya gazed out of the window, the city lights blurred into a colorful tapestry, warmth filling the air as she pondered the enchanting possibilities that lay beyond, and an image of the lanky, green eyed, half-blonde half-ginger boy she just met remaining in the back of her mind.