Pacific Palisades, Los Angeles.
Link stood at the door, Isabella by his side, as he pressed the doorbell.
She had just flown in from New York for LA Fashion Week, still carrying a faint trace of travel dust. Wearing a sharply tailored camel coat and perfect, light makeup, she looked like she had just stepped out of a magazine spread.
"This is Kobe's house?" she asked curiously.
"Yeah." Link nodded, holding a bottle of high-end red wine in one hand while naturally holding hers with the other.
Vanessa opened the door.
She wore a cream-colored knit maxi dress, her long dark brown hair pulled back. Her curves were fuller and softer due to her pregnancy. But the most striking thing was her smile—warm and sincere.
"Link, welcome!" Her gaze shifted to Isabella, her eyes crinkling into crescents. "And this must be Isabella. Kobe mentioned you. I'm Vanessa Bryant."
"So nice to meet you." Isabella stepped forward and gave her a light hug, followed by the cheek kiss common among Latina women. "Happy Thanksgiving."
"You too. Come in, come in." Vanessa stepped aside.
As soon as they entered, the aroma of food hit them.
Odom and Bynum were already sprawled on the living room sofa watching football. Vujacic sat on the other side.
Kobe came down the stairs holding 4-year-old Natalia.
"Daddy said we have guests tonight!" Natalia stared at Isabella with sparkling eyes. "You're so pretty!"
Isabella smiled and, like a magician, pulled two exquisitely wrapped chocolates from her clutch. "For you!"
Vanessa naturally linked arms with Isabella. "Come on, let me show you the backyard."
The two Latina women walked toward the floor-to-ceiling windows, their voices lowering as they chatted.
"They're going to talk for a long time," Kobe said, walking up to Link and handing him a glass of sparkling water. "Vanessa hasn't met a sister she can talk about home with in a while. She grew up in Mexico."
As he spoke, his gaze followed Vanessa by the window, his eyes filled with undisguised tenderness.
Vanessa was gesturing with her hands, showing Isabella the beautiful plants in the backyard. Isabella leaned in slightly to listen, nodding occasionally.
Kobe turned back, lifted his chin toward Link, and smirked.
"Guess," he whispered, like he was sharing a secret. "Boy or girl this time?"
Link, about to take a sip, paused almost imperceptibly.
The light from outside slanted in, falling on the round silhouette of Vanessa's belly.
Link's gaze lingered there for half a second, and distant, cold images flashed through his mind.
Facts from another timeline that he could never speak aloud.
This unborn child.
Gianna Bryant.
Kobe's favorite daughter. The one with the most basketball talent among the four.
But...
That terrible accident would take both her and her father's lives.
Link's throat felt tight.
He forced himself to look away, taking a sip of water to suppress the turmoil inside.
"Girl." Link put down the glass, his voice steady, betraying nothing. "I guess... she'll be a girl who looks a lot like Vanessa."
Kobe raised an eyebrow, seemingly surprised by the definitive answer. But his smile deepened. "Intuition? A lot of teammates say that too. Natalia can't wait to be a big sister."
Link nodded and didn't reply.
He just looked out the window again.
At the smiling Vanessa, and the little life inside her whose tragic fate was known to no one else.
A chill that couldn't be shaken seeped silently into his heart.
He knew everything, yet could only silently observe the pure happiness of this moment.
Link picked up his glass and downed the rest of the sparkling water.
Then, he turned to Kobe, pulling the conversation back to safe ground.
"George Karl will definitely be prepared for tonight against the Nuggets."
Kobe also withdrew his gaze from the window. His eyes sharpened again, switching back to killer mode.
"That old fox definitely has something up his sleeve," Kobe scoffed.
"He has two aces now. More cards to play." He paused, his voice dropping lower.
"AI is going to play angry tonight. He was dumped by Philly and is dying to prove the whole world wrong."
"But their perimeter defense isn't great," Link said.
"Paper thin," Kobe said bluntly. "I'm going to punish every single one of their perimeter players!"
He paused and looked at Link. "All you need to do is run. Wear Carmelo out!"
Link nodded. That was exactly what he had in mind.
"But watch out for their transition," Kobe added. "George Karl loves that stuff. We miss a shot or turn it over, and they're pushing it instantly... AI and Carmelo on the break... that's not a pretty picture."
Just then, Vanessa and Isabella walked back.
"Gentlemen, pause the basketball talk," Vanessa laughed. "It's dinner time!"
The long table was filled with food. A massive, golden-roasted turkey, glistening cranberry sauce, creamy mashed potatoes.
Everyone gathered around. Kobe said a few simple words of grace. Thanking family, thanking the teammates he battled alongside.
Natalia was seated next to Isabella. The little girl had question after question.
"Do models have to stand all the time?"
"Have you been to Paris?"
"Will I be that tall when I grow up?"
Isabella answered patiently, occasionally wiping sauce from the corner of the girl's mouth, her movements gentle and natural.
Vanessa whispered to Link, "She's very patient. Natalia really likes her."
Midway through the meal, Kobe's phone buzzed.
He glanced at it and frowned slightly.
"It's Carmelo," he turned the screen toward the table. "He says they're gonna teach us a lesson tonight."
Odom huffed indignantly. "Don't think just because they got Iverson they can beat us."
"Tell him," Bynum said while stuffing turkey into his mouth, "his defense is softer than this turkey!"
Kobe laughed loudly, his voice echoing through the dining room.
Vanessa and Isabella shook their heads helplessly.
When they left, Vanessa packed dessert for everyone. Natalia hugged Isabella's leg, reluctant to let her go.
---
"She's special," Isabella said softly once they were in the car.
"Who? Vanessa?"
"Yeah. She has courage. She decides her own life." Isabella nodded.
Link looked at her.
Streetlights flashed intermittently across her face through the car window.
"You are too," he said.
Isabella turned her head, her eyes shining slightly in the darkness.
She didn't speak, just gently held his hand.
---
8:15 PM, Staples Center.
Visitors' Locker Room.
Iverson was already in uniform, sitting alone in a corner with headphones on.
Anthony was adjusting his headband in front of the mirror, looking relaxed, even whistling.
George Karl slapped the tactic board hard.
"Listen up! The Lakers' weakness is their rotation! We run from the first second. Wear them down!"
"AI, your job is to attack. Attack constantly! Carmelo, you be the outlet on the wing. Once you get the chance, shoot without hesitation!"
Meanwhile, Home Locker Room.
The Zen Master was calmly explaining the strategy.
"Rhythm. Control the rhythm. They want to run, so we force them to slow down. Use the full twenty-four seconds."
"On defense, pack the paint as much as possible. Protect the rim. Dare them to shoot mid-range and long jumpers."
He looked at Link. "Link, your task is clear... Run on offense. Shoot decisively when you have the chance."
"On defense... do your best to drain Carmelo. You don't need to stop every shot, just make him uncomfortable."
Link nodded, tightening his shoelaces.
The clock hit 8:30.
The locker room doors were pushed open.
"Let's go!"
Huge cheers echoed in the tunnel. The floor vibrated slightly.
This game was nationally televised!
Ahead, the lights were blinding, the noise deafening.
On the big screen, the countdown hit zero.
Game on.
Note:
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