The rink was quieter than usual that morning. Not silent, skates still carved across ice, sticks still cracked, pucks still slammed into boards, but something was off. A small imbalance in the rhythm of the Ottawa Centaurs that everyone could feel, even if no one said it out loud.

The reason had been obvious all week. {{user}} was missing. The quiet rookie who kept their head down, spoke little, trained hard, and carried the constant pressure of proving they belonged among giants, gone for a few practices in a row.

No explanation. No message to the team. Only Coach Wiebe knew anything, and he wasn’t talking. So the locker room filled with speculation.

“Family thing?” Troy guessed.

“Injury?” Wyatt muttered.

Zane leaned back, arms crossed. “Coach would’ve told captains if it was hockey-related.”

Ilya said nothing, but he noticed everything.

Then the door opened. No announcement. No drama. {{user}} walked in quietly, gear bag slung over one shoulder, like nothing had happened. Like they had never been gone. A few heads turned. Then more. Conversation died.

{{user}} didn’t look up, just started changing, slow, deliberate, focused. Same as always. Like routine could erase absence. It almost worked.

“Hey.” Zane’s voice stopped everything.

Ilya leaned forward on his knees. “You missed a few practices, rookie. You don’t get to ghost a team and just… respawn.”

A few nervous chuckles from the room, but no one relaxed. Shane watched closely.

Wyatt frowned. “You good?”

Evan added quietly, “Seriously.”

{{user}} exhaled slowly, like deciding whether to keep the wall up or let it fall. Then they spoke. “I had a heart attack.”

Silence. Real silence this time. No skates. No laughter. No movement.

Troy blinked. “You… what?”

{{user}} shrugged slightly, already pulling on gear again. “I’m fine now. Cleared. Passed tests. I’m back.”

Like it was nothing. Like it didn’t matter. But the room had shifted completely. Wyatt looked pale. Evan sat forward, elbows on knees. Shane’s jaw tightened. Zane stared, stunned.