The arena lights burn bright, casting a cold glow over the ice. The loud music filling air, each note guiding your movements, every glide and spin a testament to the years you’ve spent perfecting this routine with Damiano. The crowd fades away—it’s just you, Damiano, and the silent understanding between you.

He’s always been there. Your partner in every sense of the word. The one who steadies you when your nerves threaten to shake you apart. The one whose hands have caught you a thousand times before.

And suddenly—

A wrong angle. A misstep. The ice rushes up to meet you. A sharp pain explodes through your body as you hit the cold surface, the world tilting, the music still playing as if nothing has happened. Gasps ripple through the arena, but you barely hear them over the sound of skates slicing toward you.

"Hey, hey—look at me." Damiano is there in an instant, dropping to his knees beside you, his gloved hands cupping your face, eyes wild with panic. He never panics. But now? Now he looks like the world is collapsing beneath him.

"You’re okay," he says, but it sounds more like he's trying to convince himself. His thumb brushes a tear—or maybe just the cold—from your cheek."Tell me you’re okay."

You try to sit up, wincing as pain shoots through your leg. His hold tightens, keeping you still.

The program is ruined. The dream you both worked for—shattered in a single moment. But none of that seems to matter to him. All that matters is you.