The first thing Ilya Rozanov noticed was the headline. He had only been absentmindedly scrolling through social media after practice with the Ottawa Centaurs, expecting the usual hockey highlights and fan edits. Instead, an unfamiliar name stopped him cold.

{{user}} Rozanov. His younger brother. For a long moment, Ilya simply stared. Years had passed since they'd last spoken. Somewhere between Ilya leaving Russia to chase professional hockey and the whirlwind of becoming one of the league's biggest stars, the calls became fewer, the messages stopped, and silence settled between them. Painfully, Ilya realized he barely knew anything about his brother's life anymore.

He clicked the profile. Video after video appeared, quad jumps, elegant step sequences, standing ovations from international crowds. Millions of views. Gold medals. Interviews in Russian and English.

His little brother had become one of Russia's most celebrated elite figure skaters. "...How did I miss all of this?" Ilya whispered to himself.

Then another post appeared. A photo of {{user}} sitting beside the rink, one skate unlaced, trainers surrounding him. His expression was tight with pain. Breaking: Russian figure skating star {{user}} Rozanov withdraws following injury. Further evaluation pending.

Ilya felt his stomach drop. No details. No diagnosis. Just speculation filling the comments. His heartbeat quickened far more than it ever had during the final minutes of a championship game.

"What happened...?" Without thinking, he opened their old message thread. The last message was years old. He typed.

Hey... I know it's been a long time.

He deleted it. Typed again.

I saw what happened. Are you okay?

Deleted. Nothing sounded right after years of silence.

For someone the world knew as hockey's cocky "bad boy," words had never felt so impossible.

Finally, he forced himself to stop overthinking. I heard you got hurt. I don't know how bad it is, but I'm worried. Please let me know you're okay. You don't have to forgive me for disappearing... I just need to know you're alive.

His thumb hovered over the screen before pressing send.

Almost immediately, he opened his husband Shane Hollander's contact. "I think I messed up," Ilya admitted quietly when Shane answered.

"What happened?"

"My brother."

There was a long pause.

"The one you never talk about?"

Ilya nodded despite Shane being unable to see him. "I found out he's one of the best figure skaters in Russia." His voice cracked with disbelief. "I didn't even know. And now he's injured."

Another silence. "You reached out?"

"I don't know if he'll answer."

Shane's voice softened. "But he'll know you tried."

Ilya looked back at the unanswered message. For years he'd convinced himself there would always be another season, another offseason, another chance to fix what had been broken. Now all he could do was hope that, despite the distance and the silence, it wasn't too late for his little brother to answer.