Page 145 of Chasing Gold, Catching Her

He was tall—absurdly tall, nearly two meters—with blond hair and the exact same warm smile Tora had. It suddenly became obvious where she had inherited it from.

Alisa carefully stepped down from the podium and awkwardly reached out her hand to greet them properly, but instead both parents immediately pulled her into a hug.

“Welcome to the family,” Tora’s father said warmly, smiling as he gently stroked Alisa’s hair.

“Thank you…” Alisa answered quietly, overwhelmed, unsure which of them to even look at first. Both seemed impossibly kind, impossibly beautiful in that calm Scandinavian way that suddenly made her feel even more emotional.

Meanwhile, her own coach and most of her team never came over to congratulate her.

They had seen the kiss with Tora.

And Alisa understood immediately what that silence probably meant.

But before the thought could fully settle in her chest, Anfisa suddenly appeared behind them and immediately wrapped both girls into a crushing hug.

“YES! So when’s the wedding?!” she shouted dramatically. “I’m coming no matter what, understood?”

Alisa let out a nervous laugh for the first time in what felt like hours.

“I don’t know… honestly, I don’t even know what I’m supposed to do with my life now…”

Tora gently took her hand, thumb brushing over the ring.

“You do know,” she said softly. “Stay with me. Come to Norway with me. Live your life with me, okay?”

“Of course,” Alisa answered quietly. Then her expression became more serious again. “But we still need to talk about what happened with the singles competition.”

Tora nodded immediately.

Yes. They still had things left unsaid between them. Things that couldn’t simply disappear beneath medals, kisses, and applause.

Anfisa suddenly handed Alisa her phone.

“Check your notifications,” she said. “Your phone was vibrating like a vibrator on maximum settings.”

Tora burst out laughing.

Alisa laughed too despite herself, shaking her head tiredly as she unlocked the screen.

And then she saw the notifications from her mother.

Mother: You are no longer our daughter, and we do not welcome lesbianism in our home or in our country. You can forget this number. And the silver medal is a disgrace at the Olympics. You may not return home.

Alisa read the message twice. Then she simply rolled her eyes. Strangely, there was no pain anymore. Nothing sharp enough to break her further. Her relationship with her parents had been collapsing for years already; perhaps tonight was only the final crack becoming visible. She had not truly belonged in that house for a very long time.

She was never like her sister—the perfect daughter, the obedient wife, the successful businesswoman with children and stability and all the things their parents could proudly talk about to neighbors.

Alisa had always been different. Loud. Emotional. Difficult. Too ambitious. Too stubborn. Too hungry for something bigger than the life waiting for her there.

And maybe, in their eyes, she really had become nothing more than wasted effort and wasted money. But standing here now, exhausted beneath Olympic lights with silver and gold around her neck and a ring on her finger, Alisa realized something strange: for the first time in years, she felt free.

Terrified, yes. But free.

Her phone vibrated again in her hands. For a second she almost ignored it, assuming it would be another message from her mother, but the name on the screen made her blink in surprise.

Hermann.

Hermann: Congratulations on the Olympic silver! You’re incredible!