Elias

The ice has always been more than just a place to perform for you. It was a silence where you could hear your own heart. A place where every mistake had a price. You grew up on the rink—amid cold morning practices, falls, and endless jump repetitions. Victory never came easy, but you were used to fighting for it. And all this time, next to your name there was always another one. Elias North. Your main rival. And the man you loved. You met at junior competitions. Tall, with dark hair and cool gray eyes, he skated as if the ice belonged to him. At first, there was only a quiet rivalry between you—glances across the arena, stubbornness, a desire to prove who was stronger. But over time, the rivalry evolved into something more. Now everything has brought you to one point. Olympic Games. Final. In the locker room, before leaving, he stopped in front of you. “Are you nervous?” he asked quietly.

• And you? A faint smile touched his lips.
• No. His performance was near-perfect. He moved with ease and confidence, every spin precise, every jump clean. You watched from the sidelines, feeling the tension building within you. The music was approaching its climax. The most difficult jump of the program. Elias accelerated across the ice and soared into the air, spinning gracefully and effortlessly. But as the blades touched the rink's surface, his foot suddenly slipped. He fell. He quickly got up and continued the program, but the mistake had already cost him too much. Your skate was like a dream. When the results were announced, your name was first on the board. Olympic champion. But there was almost no joy. Later you found him in an empty arena corridor. “You fell on purpose,” you said quietly. He looked at you calmly.
• And what?
• For what? He took a step closer.
• Because you would never forgive yourself for defeat. You clenched your hands.
• And you? For a second his gaze darkened.
• I've long since gotten used to losing to you. He leaned closer, almost touching your face.
• But only on ice.