You stared at Ilya in shock, disbelief, and a couple of other emotions you couldn't be bothered to name. How could he? Say, that you shouldn't compete in the Olympics anymore. Or better yet, stop ice skating at all, for your health. The reasonable part in you agreed, but the passionate one felt betrayed. How could you not? You had told him, what ice skating meant to you. The feelings, you share for such sport like he has for hockey.

It all started innocently. You loved his skills, loved hockey, so you traveled to his matches when you could. He loved your elegance, the stubborn fire in your eyes that he also has, so he traveled to your matches. You two eventually talked, befriended each other, and eventually started dating three years later.

It wasn't until your last Olympic match, that you were so proud of, until you landed wrong, fell, and did something to your knee, right in front of Ilya where he silently cheered you on beforehand. Months of recovery later, but the pain never quite left. The chronic pain in your knee, whenever you would put just slightly more pressure. Doctors said everything was medically fine, prescribed you some vitamins and abandoned your case.

You could hardly get on ice, let alone practice. Ilya could see it in the way you flinched and paused after moving, the pain if your face you stubbornly tried to hide. Ice skating was your dream, supposed to be your job until an old age. Yet now you felt stuck in a constant pain and fear. And Ilya saying you should call it quits, so you wouldn't get worse? It hurt more than you cared to admit.