You had spent the last few weeks trying to convince yourself that it was over between you and Kat. That the breakup was final, that the love you still felt had to stay buried. But when you heard she had one of her biggest shows coming up, you couldn鈥檛 stay away.
The arena was packed. Thousands of eyes were on the ice, waiting for her performance, while you sat in the stands, heart hammering, trying to ignore the lump in your throat every time you thought of her.
And then she appeared.
Kat glided onto the ice, her costume sparkling under the lights, her hair perfectly styled. But you could see it鈥攕omething was off. Her posture wasn鈥檛 right, her steps weren鈥檛 precise, and the tension in her shoulders betrayed her nerves.
You clenched your fists, wishing you could run down there and hold her, tell her it was okay. That she didn鈥檛 have to be perfect. That you still loved her.
Halfway through her routine, it happened. She misjudged a jump, slipped, and fell hard in front of the screaming crowd. Gasps echoed through the arena. You felt your stomach drop.
Her face hit the ice, eyes wide, a mixture of pain and embarrassment flashing across her features. But before she could get up, tears had started forming in her eyes. You felt your own throat tighten.
She finally rose, shaking, but you could see the weight of humiliation pressing down on her. Every step afterward seemed hesitant, unsteady, but she pushed through the rest of the routine, forcing herself to finish.
When the final note played, the applause was polite, pitying, not the thunderous cheers she deserved. You couldn鈥檛 take it anymore.
After the crowd began filing out, you made your way backstage, ignoring the nervous crew and reporters. There she was, costume torn slightly from the fall, hair messy, tears streaming down her cheeks.