He looks at our joined hands, then up at me. And he smiles. A small, tentative smile. Barely there. Butreal. And I feel like I’ve won the lottery.
We sit in silence for a while, our fingers laced together. The ice glows beneath the lights, and I find myself thinking maybe, just maybe, something with him could work. He’s not Geliy. He’s different in the best possible way. He’s honest. Raw. He doesn’t shy away from those hard facts about the work he’s involved in—and that makes me feel more protected than any white lie ever did.
Viktor’s thumb brushes over my knuckles. Tentative but steady, like he’s testing how it feels. I can hear the gears and wheels in his head turning, but he doesn’t let go. He holds on tighter.
I lean into him slightly. Our shoulders brush. And it feels fragile. Like a small bridge between two people who have been at war with themselves for too long.
“I miss it,” I say softly. “Skating, I mean. Not the training. Or the pressure. Just the feeling of being out there. Feeling like I’m flying. Feeling like...I’m making magic.”
“You looked like you belong there,” he rumbles against my temple.
The smile I offer is bittersweet. “Sometimes. But most of the time I don’t recognize myself at all.”
He hums before tilting his head. “So, why Tinkerbell?”
I giggle softly. “It’s silly. It was my favorite outfit. There was something about it that made me feel...right. Like I was dancing on air. Like a fairy. I wore it at a regional competition.”
Viktor doesn’t laugh. He just nods. Like it makes perfect sense. Like he understands the tether to something before everything crumbled apart. “I think you’re still that girl in the video.”
I look up at him.
He means it.
And that does something to me.Completely unravels me.
I blink hard, swallowing the emotion tightening my throat.
He squeezes my hand.
“Thanks for coming,” I say softly.
“I’m glad I did.”
“Me too, Viktor.”
The silence stretches between us again. But this one isn’t uncomfortable. It just is. Like that old blanket on the couch. Warm and soft. Well-loved.
I close my eyes for a moment, just enjoying the feeling of being with someone who treats me like he does. With reverence and respect.
I shift on the bench until our knees bump. His hand settles on my waist like he’s steadying me. I lean in slowly, pressing my lips to his.
It’s a kiss that lingers.
It’s not a desperate kiss. It’s something else. A question. One he answers as he deepens it.
My breathing is ragged by the time we pull away. My forehead rests on his. “I want this to work,” I breathe.
He nods, cupping my cheek. “Me too.”
I kiss him again, harder this time. Almost frantic. Like I need to hold onto him.
And for the first time in a long time, I let myself believe something good is here.
Because Viktor is my sunshine after a storm.
When we reach the compound, we retreat to Viktor’s bedroom.
His tongue traces the seam of my lips, and I part them willingly, sliding onto his lap as his hand glides down the thin material of my skating leotard. Every touch of his fingers brands my skin, the heat of his palm searing against my spine.
