Page 150 of Chasing Gold, Catching Her

The name itself seemed to exist more as a concept than a place to them.

“It must be cold there?” Tora’s mother asked curiously.

“Well, yes,” Alisa said with a faint shrug. “It can go down to minus forty.”

“Oh… that’s freezing!” Tora’s father laughed, dramatically rubbing his shoulders as if he could physically feel the temperature just by imagining it.

“Yeah, the weather in Oslo is definitely better,” Tora said, glancing at her father, “but it’s still not exactly warm, Dad.”

Her father chuckled, shaking his head slightly.

“What else?” Tora’s mother continued gently, still curious.

Alisa hesitated for a moment, swirling the wine in her glass.

“Well… I’ve been figure skating my whole life,” she said slowly, “and there’s not really anything else that feels… memorable. It’s like…”

“Oh, come on!” Tora’s mother interrupted warmly. “Figure skating is legendary, and you’re doing amazing!”

Alisa gave a small, tired smile.

“Well… it is my whole life, that’s true,” she admitted quietly. “But now Tora… Tora has kind of become my whole life too, and I don’t really know what happens next.”

“But we do,” Tora’s mother said calmly. “And we’re confident everything will be fine.”

Alisa let out a soft, uncertain chuckle. “Are you always this positive?”

“It’s important,” Tora’s father replied with an easy smile, “to stay positive in a rapidly changing, chaotic world. And Norway is definitely more relaxed than Russia… though I suppose I can’t speak for everything. But at least there, you and Tora can live together freely. I’ve heard Russia has quite strict laws regarding LGBT people, which is unfortunate… because people shouldn’t be prevented from loving who they want.”

Alisa didn’t answer at first. She just nodded slightly, her gaze dropping toward the table as something heavy settled quietly in her chest. Not sadness exactly and not anger either, something in between.

A moment later, the waiter returned with their food.

Everyone had ordered different kinds of pasta. Alisa had seafood pasta, Tora had a green pasta with chicken, and Tora’s parents had rich red and orange sauces that made the whole table look warm and colorful under the restaurant lights. Everything looked almost unfairly delicious compared to the emotional weight sitting in Alisa’s chest.

Then Tora’s mother lifted her glass again.

“Alright,” she said softly, smiling, “we won’t torture you with questions anymore. We have many evenings and days ahead of us. We’ll spend them together in our home in Norway. You’re part of our family now.”

Alisa pressed her lips together tightly, trying to hold herself together.

But it didn’t fully work.

A tear slipped down her right cheek anyway.

Tora noticed immediately. She gently brushed it away with her thumb, then leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the same spot where it had fallen.

“Moia nevesta,”16 Tora whispered quietly in Russian.

Alisa let out a broken little laugh through her tears. “Oh my God, Tora…”

“I’m all yours,” Alisa whispered back, her voice trembling but warm. “Tvoia nevesta…”17

And then she leaned into Tora’s side, resting her head on her shoulder as if it was the only stable place left in the world. Her gaze drifted to the bouquets of red roses on the table.

Tora’s parents watched them quietly with soft affectionate smiles on their faces like they were observing something fragile and beautiful taking its first real shape.

To them, they looked so young and deeply in love and most importantly safe.