“Don’t youdare,” I growl.
He steps forward, eyes dark.“When you crashed into me on that glacier, I thought you wanted me.But I had my doubts.You’re ambitious — I always wondered.”
“Thomas, don’t.”
“Maybe you saw me as a useful contact,” he says coldly.“Like you used Bellini, right?”
My throat goes dry.The words strike too close.
“That’s not fair,” I whisper.
“Isn’t it?”he fires back.“Tell me this — what happens when I stop being the headline?Will you still want me then?Or will you find a new story to chase?”
My breath hitches, burning.“I didn’t leave when you lost, did I?I was there.”
“And you said,I still expect you to win.”
“Because that’s what you needed to hear!”
He recoils slightly, caught off guard.
Of course he is.That’s his pattern — always thinkingafter, neverbefore.
“You know what, Thomas?”I snap, voice shaking with fury.“I did precisely what the perfect athlete’s woman is supposed to do.I gave you space when you needed it.Iwasyour drive when you asked for focus.I opened my legs when you needed to celebrate.And I never pushed for anything real — no late-night talks, no messy feelings — because God forbid anything distract you from your golden season.”
He blinks.“You were giving mespace?”His voice rises with disbelief.“All you did was mess with my head.Playing hard to get.”
I laugh bitterly.“You see?It’s always aboutyou, isn’t it?You think I was playing a game — when I was barely keeping myself in check.”
He steps forward, jaw tight.“To what exactly?What are you backing away from?Tell me — I’m curious.”
“You,” I snap.“You’re reckless.Yesterday, you made a decision that affectedbothof us — and you didn’t even stop to think.You just acted like it didn’t matter.”
“I just won an Olympic gold!”he shouts, chest heaving.“You can’tpossiblyunderstand what that feels like.The pressure.The adrenaline.Ilost control, and I wanted—”
“Thomas,” I say his name softly, my voice breaking.“I don’t blame you.I’m not calling you selfish or a bad person.You’re a legend.The best skier in the world.And if you’d been different — the kind of man who’d slow down for a relationship — you wouldn’t behere.”
He stares at me, breathing hard.That wounded look in his eyes — like he’s just now realizing how far we’ve drifted.
His voice, when it comes, is quieter.Almost hesitant.
“So that’s it,” he says.“After everything… you’re choosing your career over me?”
His pain is breaking my heart.Because only now do I see where his cruel words came from.
“I’m choosing tosurvive,” I say, every word heavy.“You’ll keep skiing.You’ll keep winning.You’ll bounce back from this.But me?”My voice cracks.“This is all I have.”
He shakes his head, angry again.“And that’s all you’lleverhave.If you’re so scared to risk anything real.”
“Yes,” I say.“If that’s what it takes.Thenyes.”
Silence.
Tears burn hot behind my eyes, but I don’t let them fall.
“I won’t wait in your shadow, Thomas,” I whisper.“Letting you pull me onto a pedestal so I can bathe in your glory.That’s not the life I want.”
“You’re a coward, Kat.”
