My first thought is panic. Did the knee blow in warm-up? Did he fall? Is he hurt?
I grab my phone, pull up the live timing app. His name is there, crossed out, no time listed. Just DNS in cold, clinical letters.
Marco appears beside me, tablet in hand. "You see that? Reiner pulled out."
"Yeah." My voice sounds distant. Not mine.
"Smart call, probably. Guy was limping through inspection. No point risking it."
I nod. Don't trust myself to speak.
On the screen, the next racer is already in the gate. The race moves on. The world moves on.
Later, I take a break.
I step outside the tent, away from the noise, and lean against the fence.
My hands are shaking.
I pull up my phone again, scroll through social media. The posts are already flooding in.
Nico Reiner DNS at Finals. Knee injury too severe?
Golden Boy pulls out. Is his season over?
Reiner scratches last minute. Lost his nerve?
That last one makes my chest tighten.
Lost his nerve.
No.
He didn't lose his nerve.
He found it.
I can see it so clearly now. Him in the start tunnel. Skis on. Knee taped. Heart pounding. The beeps counting down ahead of him.
And he stepped back.
He chose not to race.
He chose the long run over the story.
My eyes sting. I blink hard, wipe my face with the back of my hand.
That's the bravest thing he's ever done.
And half the world will call him a coward.
An hour later, I'm sitting at a table in the media zone, updating Vektor's social media. The post I'm writing is neutral. Professional.
Health and longevity first. Wishing all athletes a safe Finals weekend.??
I hit post.
Then I open a new message thread. Type his name.
