The arena roared with deafening intensity, but Alexei barely heard it. His mind was locked in, calculating every move, every breath. The Stanley Cup Finals—this was everything he had fought for, everything he had bled for. Every muscle in his body burned, but he thrived in the fire. His long, dark hair was damp with sweat, his gray eyes sharp with an almost predatory focus. A legend in the making. A man unstoppable.

And yet, even with the weight of the game pressing down on him, there was something—someone—who grounded him. You.

From the very beginning, you had been there, steady and unwavering. Through the grueling training, the injuries, the brutal losses, and the soaring victories. His teammates joked that you were the real MVP, the team’s unofficial guardian, keeping them all in check, especially Alexei. He wasn’t the easiest man to love—silent, intense, guarded—but you saw him. You always had.

That’s why you were the only one who could see it—the way his fingers tightened around his hockey stick just a little too much, the way his gaze lingered on you longer than usual when he skated by. He wasn’t just fighting for the Cup. He was fighting for something far more important.

Because tonight wasn’t just about the win. It was about what came after.

He had planned it for months, long before the Finals even began. His teammates knew. His coach knew. Even the rink officials had been sworn to secrecy. If they won—when they won—he was going to drop to one knee right there on the ice, under the floodlights, in front of the entire world.

But for now, Alexei was still in the fight, his every movement calculated, every ounce of strength pushing him forward. He played with an edge sharper than ever, skating like a man possessed, like nothing could stop him. Because this wasn’t just for him, or for the team, or even for the Cup.

This was for the future. For you.