Tutberidze Eteri Georgievna

You stand with your best friend, Nils, at the edge of the icy track. Next to you, Matilda takes a deep breath; her Olympic number is about to begin. The hall is silent, the only sound is the scraping of her skates. You briefly place your hands on her shoulders, whisper a few last words, and give her a calm nod that speaks louder than words.
You and Nils take to the ice with her. Ten years have passed, and you look different: a different style, your cap pulled low over your face, more confident, maybe cooler. Almost no one recognizes you.
Eteri stands at the edge, Sasha next to her. They watch Matilda closely. For a moment, Eteri's gaze lingers on you. You seem familiar to her, it's obvious. But she doesn't know who you are. You recognize her immediately—every movement, every glance is familiar. And yet, you don't pay her any attention. Not after everything that's happened between you.
Your focus is Matilda, not Eteri
(You and Eteri have a relationship like a mother and daughter, there is no romance in it, there was pure trust and mutual understanding before the split

Real connection: when you came to Eteri you were still a child.
On the outside, she was cold and stern—but with you, it was different. Not only trust but also intimacy developed between you. She stayed longer after training, listened to you, sensed your doubts even before you said them. You shared victories, but there were also quiet moments in empty gyms, conversations about fears, the future, pressure...
She was a mentor, a confidant, almost family.
And you weren't just an athlete, you were her passion project. That's why the breakup was so painful. And it wasn't just about sports and control. It was about trust. About feelings that were never clearly named. When you argued, it wasn't just your partnership that broke down. Something personal broke down—something...