A sob tears loose. Then another. My vision goes watery, the room swimming around me.
“I tried so hard not to feel anything,” I say, voice cracking. “I tried to keep everything neat. Professional. Safe. I thought if I held the line tight enough, nothing could get messy.”
“But it did.”
“Because I fell for him anyway. I fell so hard and didn’t even see it until it was too late, and I panicked and—and—” My voice collapses. “And now the only thing I’ve kept safe is the empty space where he used to be.”
Maria’s voice cracks with me. “Oh, honey.”
My tears fall faster. They don’t feel cleansing, just hollowing. Leaving me scraped raw from the inside out.
“I thought ending it would protect my future with the team. My reputation. I thought if I kept control, I couldn’t lose everything again.” A sob shudders out ofme. “But I still lost him. I still lost the one thing that mattered.”
Her voice softens to something gentle and firm and painfully loving.
“Then fix it.”
I press my hand over my eyes as another wave of grief surges. “I don’t know if he even wants?—”
“Alycia,” she interrupts, firm enough to make my breath hitch, “fix it before the lie is all that’s left.”
The line goes quiet except for my shaky, uneven breathing. When we finally hang up, I set the phone on the desk with hands that won’t stop trembling. I stare at the lock screen, at the last unread message from Kyle.I couldn’t fake it anymore.
My chest feels like it’s caving in under the weight of everything I’ve been holding back, everything I tried to control until it strangled the truth right out of me. My fingers curl around the phone like it’s the only anchor I have left.
My voice comes out as a ruined whisper. “I built my life around not breaking and loving him is the thing that has finally cracked me open.”
Journal Entry
Kyle
I shouldn’t be writing right now. My hands are still shaking, and there’s a part of me that thinks if I put any of this down on paper, it becomes too real to take back. But Dr. Shah keeps saying that pretending I’m fine is the thing that breaks me, not the feeling itself.
So, here I am. Trying to write like my chest isn’t still a mess of torn wires.
The rink feels like it’s still under my skin. Cold in places that aren’t supposed to be cold. Hollow in places that used to feel solid. I don’t even know how long I stood out there, pretending I could skate through the numbness, pretending I could pull myself back into my body if I pushed hard enough.
But it wasn’t the rink. It wasn’t the cameras. It was her.
Alycia looked at me today for half asecond, and whatever she tried to hide behind that perfect PR mask didn’t hide fast enough. I saw the flicker. The pain. The way her breath stuttered like she hadn’t meant to meet my eyes at all.
And then she shut the door.
Buried whatever we were under professionalism and a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
That’s the moment that cracked me open. Not the headlines. Not the bullshit questions. Not the reporter calling us the league’s “favorite couple,” like we’re something cute they can package into a segment.
It was her pretending she felt nothing. It was her pretending we were nothing.
And the worst part is, I could see the truth bleeding through the cracks. She does feel something. She’s holding it back because she’s scared, hurting, and trying to survive the only way she knows how.
I should’ve respected that. I should’ve held myself together.
Instead, I skated off like the ice was burning through my skates and tore the locker room apart like a goddamn rookie who couldn’t control himself.
The destruction wasn’t about anger.
It was the only way my body knew how toexpress everything I’ve been choking down for days.
