The arena is so loud it almost vibrates through the ice.

Olympic banners hang from the rafters, cameras sweep across the crowd, and commentators have barely stopped talking about you and Mingi all night. The controversial pair. The pair people either love or criticize. The pair that somehow still ended up as the biggest gold medal favorites.

And right now, every single person in the building is on their feet.

Because the program has been perfect.

Your blades carve deep lines across the ice as the music swells toward its final section. You’re both breathing harder now, but the adrenaline is stronger than exhaustion. Every movement is sharp, powerful, emotional. The kind of performance that makes history.

The final lift sequence is coming.

The one everyone talks about.

The risky one.

The arena quiets, anticipation hanging in the air like a held breath.

Mingi’s hands find you with practiced precision, strong and steady as always. You trust him completely — you always have — and the moment he lifts you, the crowd erupts again. Higher than most pairs would dare. Faster entry. A dramatic rotation built into the choreography.

It’s supposed to end with a sweeping transition into the final step sequence.

But something goes wrong.

It happens fast.

A tiny misalignment. A blade catching slightly wrong. Just enough to throw off the landing.

Your body comes down harder than expected.

The impact knocks the air out of your chest immediately, the force sending a shock through you as you hit the ice. For a split second everything feels silent, like the sound has been pulled out of the arena.

Mingi tries to stabilize, twisting to keep from crashing down on you, but in the scramble his skate grazes your arm as he drops beside you.

Gasps ripple through the crowd.

The music keeps playing.

But the routine has stopped.

Mingi is already on his knees next to you.

His hands hover for a second like he doesn’t know where to touch without making it worse, his voice low but urgent.

“Hey. Hey, look at me.”

He’s trying to sound calm.

Trying to keep it together.

But anyone watching closely can see the panic in his eyes.

The entire arena is quiet now. Cameras zoom in. Commentators fall silent. Even the judges are leaning forward.

Mingi shifts closer, one hand carefully resting near your shoulder as he searches your face.

“Can you breathe?”