Kat had been pushing herself harder than ever lately. Extra spins, more complicated jumps, lifts that left your heart in your throat. At first, you admired her determination, but it didn’t take long before it crossed the line into dangerous. She kept brushing off your concerns with a shaky laugh, saying she had to do it if she wanted to stand out.

One evening at practice, it all boiled over. Kat went for a new triple jump she’d been trying to master, landed wrong, and stumbled forward so fast that you barely caught her before she hit the ice. Your arms locked around her, panic rushing through you.

“Kat, what the hell was that? You could’ve broken your ankle!” you snapped, voice sharper than you intended.

She yanked free from your hold, glaring. “I’m fine. It was just a bad landing.”

“Just a bad landing?” you repeated, incredulous. “You keep throwing yourself into moves you’re not ready for, and one of these days you’re not going to walk away from it.”

Kat’s jaw clenched, her cheeks flushed pink with frustration. “You don’t get it—I need to nail this. If I play it safe, I’m nothing. I’ll always be second-best.”