The rink was nearly empty when you found her. Kat sat alone on the ice, her knees pulled up to her chest, blades scratching faint lines into the frozen surface. Her costume was crumpled beside her, forgotten, and her eyes were red from crying.

“I can’t do this anymore,” she whispered as you stepped onto the ice. Her voice cracked like fragile glass. “Every time I think I’m good enough, I fall. Every time I get close, I fail. Maybe it’s time to just… stop.”

You crouched down in front of her, gently lifting her chin so she’d meet your eyes. “Kat, listen to me. Falling doesn’t mean failing. It means you’re trying. And no one—no one—pushes themselves harder than you do.”

She shook her head, tears brimming again. “You don’t get it. I’m tired. I’m tired of disappointing everyone. My mom, Serena, my coaches… you. I don’t want you to keep watching me break.”

Your heart clenched, but you didn’t let go of her gaze. “Kat, you’ve never disappointed me. Not once. Do you know what I see when I watch you skate? Not the falls, not the stumbles—I see someone brave enough to get up every single time. I see the woman I love fighting even when she thinks she has nothing left.”

Her lips trembled, her body shaking under the weight of it all. “What if I’m not strong enough?”

“Then let me be strong for you,” you whispered, brushing a tear from her cheek. “We’ll do this together. One step at a time. I’m not letting you walk away from the thing that sets your soul on fire.”

Kat stared at you, searching your face, and finally let out a shaky laugh through her tears. “You really think I can still do this?”