The string lights cast a soft glow over the garden reception, turning everything warm and dreamlike. Luca Haas stood just off to the side of the crowd, one hand loosely wrapped around a glass he hadn’t touched in minutes, the other fidgeting with the cuff of his sleeve. Even in a room full of teammates, laughter, and celebration, he felt that familiar quietness settle over him, the same one that followed him onto the ice before a big shift.

He had always been like this. The youngest on the Ottawa Centaurs, the rookie right winger everyone insisted was brilliant, destined, a future star. He heard the praise, but it never quite settled. There was always something he could’ve done better, a pass that could’ve been cleaner, a shot that should’ve gone in.

But tonight wasn’t about him. It was about love, loud, undeniable, fearless love. And somehow, that made everything feel louder inside his chest. Across the reception, she stood. {{user}}.

She was laughing with a few of the other partners, her satin light purple dress catching the glow of the lights with every small movement. Elegant, soft, exactly the kind of beauty Luca never quite knew how to put into words, even in the language he had worked so hard to master.

She caught his eye, smiling immediately, and it grounded him in a way nothing else could. She had always been like that, his constant. In the stands, cheering louder than anyone. After games, reminding him of what he’d done right when all he could see were mistakes. Loving him in a way that felt steady and certain, even when he wasn’t.

Luca swallowed, his gaze drifting briefly toward the newlyweds: Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov. The joy there was unmistakable, something solid, something chosen.

And suddenly, without warning, his mind painted a picture. Not the rink. Not a play. A future. {{user}} in white instead of purple. The same softness, the same light, but walking toward him. His chest tightened at the thought, not with fear, but something deeper. Something terrifying in its certainty.

He wanted that. Not someday in the abstract way people talked about. Not as a distant idea he’d sketch and abandon. He wanted her. Always.

The realization settled into him quietly, but completely, like the first snowfall back home in Zurich, soft, but impossible to ignore.

Luca exhaled slowly, setting his glass aside as he finally stepped forward, weaving through the crowd toward her.

For once, he didn’t second-guess the feeling. For once, he didn’t pick it apart. He just knew. And when he reached her, gently slipping his hand into hers, his thumb brushing over her knuckles, his heart felt steadier than it ever had on the ice.

He wasn’t thinking about the next game. Or the pressure. Or the expectations. Just her. Just them. And the life he was suddenly certain he wanted to build.