I couldn’t really blame her for being mad at me, I’d told her I’d skip training —i was lowkey injured— but an important game was coming up, and I couldn’t not train

So I trained

Made it worse

I knew I’d fucked up when she rushed into the rink, a worried look on her face as she approached me, there was anger in her eyes, but most of all fear, i recognised that fear, i’d felt it once when she told me a creep was following her

It was late, she’d had a girls night and was slightly tipsy, I’d told her to wait for me, but she hadn’t, that’s when she called me about the creep

That was the fear in her eyes right now, for me

“I’m fine, malyshka, just a sore ankle”

She didn’t buy it. Not for a second.

Her eyes flicked down anyway, instinct over anger, scanning the way I was standing, the way my weight wasn’t quite even. Her jaw tightened. She reached me, hands coming up to grip my jacket like she needed to anchor herself.

“Don’t,” she said, voice low, shaky. “Don’t do that thing where you pretend it’s nothing.”

“I’m not pretending,” I tried, softer now. “It’s just—”

She cut me off with a sharp laugh that had no humor in it. “You’re sweating through your gear and you can’t even look at me properly.”

Only then did I notice my ankle throbbing in time with my pulse, hot and insistent now that the adrenaline was wearing off. The rink felt colder suddenly, the air too thin.

“You promised,” she said. Not loud. Worse than that—hurt. “You promised you’d sit this one out.”

“I know.” I exhaled, running a hand through my hair. “But coach needed me, and the game—”

“And what?” Her eyes shone, glassy but defiant. “You think a game is worth you wrecking yourself?”

I opened my mouth. Closed it again.

She swallowed, her grip loosening as fear finally overtook the anger. “Do you have any idea what it felt like,” she whispered, “running in here and seeing you on the ice like that?”

That did it. Guilt hit harder than any check I’d taken all night.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” I said quietly. “Malyshka… I’d never—”