This is the pause before the serious part.
The moment in a team meeting when everyone stops moving because whatever comes next matters.
Katia notices too. “Why do I feel like I’m about to get grounded?”
Coach exhales slowly.
Then he turns to her. “Katia,” he says. “I am proud of you.”
Deafening silence follows the words.
Katia blinks.
I think all of us do.
Petrov keeps going, his voice low and careful, like he’s crossing terrain he doesn’t fully trust.
“You have worked very hard,” he says. “Harder than I understood at the time. And… I did not always see what you needed from me.”
Katia’s face changes completely.
The joking expression falls away. Her eyes widen. Her mouth parts slightly, but no words come out.
Coach looks down at the table for a second before forcing himself to continue.
“I thought discipline would solve what pain had broken,” he says. “I was wrong.”
Talia’s hand tightens in mine.
I squeeze back automatically, because I’m stunned too.
Viktor Petrov apologizing was not on any version of tonight’s bingo card.
Katia swallows hard.
“Dad…” she whispers.
He lifts one hand, not to stop her, but because he needs the momentum to get through this.
“I am not saying I understand everything now,” he says. “But I know I failed to understand enough then. And I am sorry.”
Katia looks like someone just reached into her chest and rearranged the furniture.
Her eyes shine instantly.
She lets out a shaky laugh. “Wow. Okay. Thanks, Dad.”
Petrov then turns to Talia.
I feel her go very still beside me.
“Talia,” he says.
She swallows. “Yes?”
His expression softens in a way I’ve only seen once or twice.
“You have always been strong,” he says. “Stronger than I gave you credit for.”
