This Nico takes a breath. Squares his shoulders. And walks over slowly, carefully, like he's inspecting a course.
Laurent sees me first. His glacier smile appears.
"Nico Reiner. The man of the hour."
"Laurent."
"Interesting decision today." He sips his champagne. "Took courage. Or caution. I'm still deciding which."
"Both," I say. "I'd like to race for another ten years. Not just one more Super-G. Today was the first time I chose that."
He studies me. "And the globe?"
"Gone. It was gone at Kvitfjell. I've just been too stubborn to admit it."
"Hmm." He sets his glass down. "Pragmatic. I respect that."
I don't answer. I'm not here for his respect.
I turn to Élise. She's watching me, eyes wide, like she's trying to figure out what I'm doing here.
"I didn't race today," I say.
"I know."
"I wanted to. I wanted the globe. I wanted to prove I could do it." I take a breath. "But I want working knees and a life more."
She doesn't say anything. Just waits.
"I'm done killing myself to feel worthy," I continue. "Worthy of skis I already own. Worthy of people who either love me or don't."
Laurent is still standing there, watching. I don't care.
"I don't want to own you," I say, looking at Élise. "Or save you. I want to walk beside you while you do your job, and I do mine, and we choose each other, anyway."
Her eyes are shining now. Not crying. Just... full.
"I'm not asking you to quit Vektor," I say. "I'm not asking you to come back to the flat. I'm just telling you that I finally get it. You were right. About all of it."
She swallows hard. "Nico—"
"You don't have to say anything. I just needed you to know."
Laurent clears his throat. "Well. This is... touching."
I turn to him. "I'm not asking for your approval either."
He raises an eyebrow. "Good. Because you wouldn't get it."
"I know." I meet his eyes. "But I'm also not trying to prove anything to you anymore. So, we're done."
He studies me for a long moment. Then, to my surprise, he nods. "Perhaps you've grown up. Both."
"Maybe."
"How about you two join us for dinner next week? Your mother would like to see you,” he says, eyebrows raised.
I look at Élise who doesn’t flinch. “Sure, papa, a little family dinner. I’ll just schedule the time with your assistant, shall I?”
