She opened her mouth, but the words caught in her throat.
He continued—voice steady, almost gentle. “One thing, though… can we hold off making any statement for now? I don’t want to be distracted by media right now. The season’s heating up, and I just… I need my head in the game. Maybe we’re just taking a break at the moment—with our schedules being so different. I know that might delay your reunion with Min-Jae, but I’d really appreciate it. ”
The line crackled softly.
Her mind reeled.Delay your reunion with Min-Jae.He thought she wanted to go back to him. He thought she’d been waiting for this. And instead of fighting for her, he was… giving her permission? Letting her go politely?
She flashed back—unbidden—to Montreal. The grainy photo of him in the hotel bar, that woman pressed against him, lips on his. The way he’d explained it, the way she’d said she believed him, but the doubt had lingered anyway. Small. Sharp. Stubborn.
Maybe he’d felt the same way every time she went quiet.
Maybe he’d already decided then.
She swallowed hard, voice barely above a whisper. “Okay. We can… hold off. If that’s what you need.”
A small, broken sound that might have been a laugh. “Thanks, Aria. Really.”
Silence stretched—thick, painful.
Then he said—quiet, almost tender—“Take care of yourself.”
The call ended.
She sat there—alone in her dark apartment—phone still pressed to her ear, listening to the silence until it hurt.
She stared at the blank screen for a long time—chest tight, eyes burning—then set the phone down.
The silence was deafening.
And for the first time in a while, she didn’t know how to fill it.
???
Chapter Twenty-Four
Jax
The mid-season break arrived in a haze of quiet devastation.
Brisbane in winter was cooler than he remembered—mornings crisp, the kind of chill that made him pull his jacket tighter over his hoodie. The ocean looked greyer, waves rolling in steady and relentless, as if the tide itself understood the weight he carried.
Nan was sitting on the porch when he arrived, cardigan wrapped tight against the breeze, silver hair tucked under a clip with a few loose strands escaping. She spotted him, and for a second her face lit up before settling into that familiar, fond frown.
“You’re here,” she said simply, voice softer than over the phone.
“I am.” He dropped his bag on the path and walked up the steps. “Told you I’d come.”
She shook her head, but there was no real fight in it. “I told you to stay focused on the season.”
“I am focused,” he said. “Just… focused on being here first.”
She studied him for a long moment, then stepped forward and pulled him into a hug. Frail arms, but the grip was still hers—steady, fierce in the ways that mattered. “Come inside before you freeze,” she murmured against his shoulder.
The house smelled of lemon cleaner and lavender, the winter air seeping in around the edges of every room. Nan poured tea with careful hands, waving off his offer to help.
“Sit,” she said. “You look like you haven’t slept properly since Silverstone.”
He sat. “I haven’t.”
