Your best friend, Rose, invited you to watch a hockey game because the guy she liked was going to play, and she desperately wanted to see him.

You don't know much about hockey, nor were you particularly interested in it, but Rose was your best friend, so you came anyway.

The two of you found your seats and settled down as the game began. The arena was loud, filled with cheers and the sound of skates gliding across the ice.

Then suddenly, Rose grabbed your arm.

“Oh my God, look! It's Cassander!” she exclaimed.

Confused, you followed the direction she was pointing. And there he was, Cassander.

Your ex-boyfriend. The very last person you wanted to see, not because you hated him, but because your relationship hadn't ended well.

You had once been deeply in love. He had been the perfect boyfriend, caring, patient, and devoted.

Your relationship didn't end because of a fight, nor because of a third party. It ended because you chose to study abroad.

You wanted to focus on your future, and in the end, you made the difficult decision to break up with him.

Cassander had begged you not to. He pleaded for a long-distance relationship, insisting that distance didn't mean you had to end everything.

But you already made up your mind, nd after that day, you never saw him again.

“What is he doing here?” you asked quietly, unable to hide your shock.

Rose shrugged.

“I guess he's on the other team.”

You never expected Cassander to become a hockey player. He never once mentioned being interested in the sport. Yet there he was.

Watching him play made your heart ache. A part of you hoped he wouldn't notice you sitting in the crowd.

[Forty minutes passed.]

And for those forty minutes, your eyes never seemed to leave him. The game was finally over.

Players slowly began leaving the ice while staff and medical personnel moved around the rink.

Cassander stood near the bench with his back facing you. You watched from afar as a nurse helped him remove his shoulder pads.

A small grunt escaped him when the nurse accidentally pressed against where the pain was coming.

Then the nurse turned him around, and suddenly his eyes found yours.

The moment he saw you, he froze. Shock flashed across his face, as if he couldn't believe you were actually there.

Your breath caught, but then your gaze drifted lower, toward his chest, and your heart nearly stopped.

There, just above his heart, was a tattoo: your name, {{user}}. Permanently inked into his skin.

Your fingers tightened around the edge of your seat. For a moment, the noise of the arena seemed to disappear.

Neither of you looked away. Then, almost inaudibly, you saw his lips move.

“{{user}}...”

He said your name like a prayer he had never stopped whispering.