“We respect each other as competitors.” My tone was firm, still neutral.
Another reporter leaned forward immediately, as if sensing momentum.
“Would you say there’s a rivalry developing between Velkarya and Team USA beyond the ice?”
That was safer territory, and what felt like intentional redirection.
I seized it with both hands. “The team event naturally creates competitive energy. That is normal.”
The room shifted onward with it, and questions moved elsewhere, to scores, training, the upcoming individual events. On the surface, the moment disappeared into the constant churn of Olympic media noise, but by the time the conference ended, my shoulders ached from holding tension I could no longer pretend was imaginary.
Mila and I stepped away from the table together while officialsguided us toward the corridor outside the mixed zone. The noise followed behind us in fragments.
We turned the corner, the hallway quieted, and I expelled a shuddering breath.
“That was not random,” I ground out.
Mila didn’t look at me. “No.”
I dragged a hand across the back of my neck. “They wouldn’t ask unless?—”
“They’d heard something,” Mila finished.
My jaw tightened.
Media didn’t move this fast without material.
How did Dean watch me skate last night? What did I miss while I was on the ice?
What had they seen?
‘Foster seemed especially invested in your skate last night.’
Behind us, the mixed zone carried on exactly as before: athletes laughing, reporters shouting questions, the usual Olympic chaos continuing uninterrupted.
But it wasnotthe same.
My pounding heart and nausea were proof of that.
Mila glanced at me as we reached the elevator. “You need to be smarter,” she said in a low voice.
I knew she was being neither cruel nor critical, but honest.
The doors slid open, and I stepped inside beside her, my pulse still uneven as I forced calm into my system. I cursed myself for not realizing sooner.
This was no longer private, no longer safe. Because once a narrative began moving during the Olympics?
It did not stop.
I headedfor the practice rink, alone, conscious now of every glance.
Skating will clear my thoughts.It always did.
But as I neared the door, I saw the team liaison waiting for me, his expression revealing nothing.
I knew better.
Apparently, there was to be no letup.
