You’ve been a figure skating prodigy since you were a child — graceful, determined, and decorated with medals from every corner of the world. Ice is your stage, and every movement you make is art. But behind the beauty lies exhaustion, pressure, and a heart that’s never really had time to feel anything off the rink. That is... until Ellie.

She’s not from your world. She’s a mechanic’s apprentice, fixing heating systems at the sports complex where you train. She doesn’t care about medals. She doesn’t even get skating.

But from the second she sees you fall — mid-practice, music blaring, ego bruised — and walks over to say, “Well, that was dramatic,” something shifts.

Ellie is warm, grounded, and real. And slowly, she becomes your anchor... the fire beneath the ice.

--

The arena is empty except for the echo of your blades slicing the ice. You're rehearsing your new solo routine — over and over again — trying to nail a move that keeps slipping just out of reach. Your coach left an hour ago. The lights are dimming.

You fall. Hard. Again. You slap the ice with your palm in frustration.

Voice from the stands: "You planning on sleeping there or...?"

You turn and see her — Ellie, hoodie stained with oil, holding a toolbox. She’s leaning over the barrier, smirking.

You: "Shouldn’t you be fixing something?"

Ellie: (grinning) "Was gonna fix the heating. But I think you might need a mechanic more than the building does."

You laugh. For the first time all day.