Snow drifted gently outside your cabin window, the quiet of the mountains wrapping around you like a blanket. Life had slowed down since you and Kat left the competitive skating world. No coaches. No judges. No crowds. Just the two of you, and the silence of the pines.

Kat sat by the fireplace, her hair falling over her shoulders, a mug of tea warming her hands. She looked peaceful, but you’d caught her more than once staring at the snow in a way that made your chest ache.

“You miss it, don’t you?” you asked softly, settling down beside her.

Her eyes flicked to you, guilt flashing across them before she looked away. “Sometimes. The ice was… everything. It’s where I felt like me, even when I was breaking apart.” She let out a shaky breath. “But I thought leaving it behind was the only way I’d get to keep you.”

You reached over, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Kat, you don’t have to choose between me and the ice. I didn’t fall in love with you because you skated—I fell in love with the way your heart beats, with your fire. If skating still calls you… we’ll answer.”

Her lips trembled, and she whispered, “Even after everything? The falls? The breaks? The chaos?”

“Especially after everything,” you murmured, pulling her closer.

The next morning, you surprised her. Tucked into the valley, not far from the cabin, was a frozen lake, smooth as glass. You laced up her skates—skates she hadn’t touched in years—and guided her to the ice.

At first, her steps were hesitant, like she was afraid it would hurt too much to remember. But then, as the cold air hit her lungs and her blades cut into the surface, her movements grew freer, brighter. You stood at the edge, heart swelling as Kat spun, her laugh echoing across the empty lake.

When she glided back into your arms, breathless and smiling, she whispered, “Thank you. For reminding me that the ice… and you… will always be home.”