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2025-11-25 14:47:55
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SHATTERED ICE:One rink, bound by betrayal 164.
Samantha’s POVCoach Cole was already there, standing up with a wide grin.“That was beautiful,” he said. “Clean. Emotional. Exactly what we wanted.”Anthony nodded. “Thank you.”I forced a smile. “Thanks, Coach.”Cole clapped his hands together. “You should be proud of that.”Anthony glanced at the door, then back at Cole.“Everyone out,” he said clearly. “Please. Give us some privacy.”The room went still.Coach Cole looked up first, confusion flickering across his face. A few staff members hesitated, glancing between Anthony and me, probably trying to figure out what they had missed. I kept my expression neutral, even forced a small smile, as if this was nothing more than a private discussion.Anthony did not explain. He did not soften his tone. He just stood there, solid and unmoving, like a wall no one felt brave enough to push against.One by one, they left.A staff member grabbed a clipboard and slipped past us. Another murmured something under their breath and followed. “Can
SHATTERED ICE:One rink, bound by betrayal 163.
Samantha’s POV“Okay, Vale et Meadows, you are up next.”The announcement echoed through the dressing room, calm and very professional, like this was any other routine, any other night, and not the moment my body had been moving toward since we landed in Paris.I did not jump or flinch. I only closed my eyes for half a second.Finally.At this point, I did not even feel excitement anymore. I just wanted to be done. My muscles were tired in that deep way that did not go away with stretching. Even worse because we didn’t get to rehearse earlier, since the festival organizer messed up our schedule.Paris had been beautiful, but loud, crowded, relentless. I wanted a shower. I wanted silence. I wanted my bed.I rolled my shoulders once and checked my skates again, even though I already knew they were perfect. The laces were tight. The blades were clean. Everything was ready.Anthony walked toward me from across the room.He looked calm. Too calm, actually, like he always did right before
SHATTERED ICE:One rink, bound by betrayal 162.
Anthony’s POVMy jaw clenched. I looked away, staring at the stone beneath my feet. She did not need to tell me that. I lived it every day. The careful interviews. The filtered words. The constant awareness that one mistake could cost everything I had rebuilt.I stayed silent, letting her finish.“And the Grand Prix,” she continued. “This season matters. We have worked too hard. Early mornings. Injuries. Sacrifices. If people start saying we are dating, they will question every performance. Every score. They will say favoritism, bias, drama.”Her voice wavered on the last word.I felt the truth of it settle in my chest. Not because I agreed with the world. But because I knew how cruel it could be.I clenched my jaw but said nothing, the weight of her words pressing down between us.I looked at her, really looked at her, and something shifted in my chest. This was not rejection. This was not fear. This was calculation mixed with care. She was not trying to create distance between us.
SHATTERED ICE:One rink, bound by betrayal 161.
Anthony’s POVMorning came too quickly.Sunlight filtered through the tall restaurant windows of the hotel, soft and pale, reflecting off polished marble floors and white tablecloths. The place was already alive with quiet movement. Cutlery clinked. Coffee machines hissed. Conversations murmured in different languages, like everyone here understood this was a day that mattered.Performance day.I spotted Samantha immediately.She sat at a small table near the windows, a cup of tea cradled between her hands. Her hair was loose this morning, falling over her shoulders in soft waves. She wore a simple sweater and jeans, nothing dramatic, nothing that hinted at emerald gowns or red carpets or the way she had looked at me last night when I finally kissed her.She looked up, noticed me, and froze. Just for a second. Barely noticeable. But I saw it.Her cheeks flushed faintly as she looked back down at her cup.Yes. It was awkward.I grabbed a tray and joined her, setting my plate down acr
SHATTERED ICE:One rink, bound by betrayal 160.
Samantha’s POVI looked at him, really looked at him, and suddenly so many things made sense. The tension. The sharp words. The way his eyes lingered when he thought I was not looking.“You were protecting yourself,” I whispered.“And you,” he said. “From me.”Silence settled between us again, thicker now, but not uncomfortable. Heavy with all the years we had not spoken like this.I wrapped my arms around myself, feeling suddenly exposed. “I spent years rebuilding myself after that night,” I said softly. “Thinking I was not enough. Thinking I had imagined what we had.”His expression tightened. “I am so sorry.”“I know,” I said. And I did.The fountain continued its steady rhythm, water rising and falling like a heartbeat.Anthony reached out slowly, hesitating for a fraction of a second before his hand covered mine where it rested on the bench.I did not pull away.“I cannot change what happened,” he said. “But I can tell you this now. You were never weak. You were never a mistake.
SHATTERED ICE:One rink, bound by betrayal 159.
Samantha’s POVThe cold crept in slowly, the kind that did not announce itself right away but settled into your bones when you stopped moving. I hugged my arms around myself, staring at the fountain as water arced and fell in perfect rhythm, glowing under the lights like liquid glass.My mind was not quiet. It had not been quiet since Anthony spoke.Eight years.Eight years of carrying something sharp inside my chest, something I thought was truth, something that shaped every decision I made after that night. Every wall I built. Every distance I forced between us. Every time I told myself I was fine, that I was over it, that I was stronger now.And now he was telling me it had all been wrong.I let out a shaky breath.Before I could say anything, I felt warmth settle around my shoulders. I startled slightly, then realized Anthony had taken off his jacket and draped it over me. It still carried his heat, faintly scented with his cologne and something unmistakably him.“You are cold,”
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