Lahat ng Kabanata ng BORROWED LOVE ON ICE : Kabanata 21 - Kabanata 30

MELISSA'S POV After the shoot, I finally had a day to myself. A break—one I didn’t even know I needed until the silence settled in like a heavy coat I couldn’t shrug off.The next morning, I rolled out of bed with a groan. My legs ached, my shoulders throbbed, and my back protested every step I took. I shuffled to the mirror and stared at the girl staring back at me.She looked tired. Not just physically—but somewhere deeper.My curls were everywhere, and the bags under my eyes were darker than usual. But still, there was something different. Like I wasn’t just tired… I was changing. Evolving. Stepping into a version of myself I never thought I’d meet this soon.How did I get here?Billboards. Headlines. Instagram reels with millions of views. People knew my name—Melissa Brown. And not just as a hockey player anymore. As something more.I leaned in, brushed the strands of hair off my face, and let out a soft breath.“God, I’m grateful,” I whispered.Because the truth is—I didn’t thin

MELISSA'S POV My alarm blared at 5:30 a.m., jerking me awake like a slap. For a moment, I wanted to pretend it didn’t exist. But no—today was practice. And in this life, you don’t hit snooze. You show up. Period. I dragged myself out of bed, muscles still stiff from the last session. The shoot. The endless questions. The weight of everyone's eyes. It had all drained me. But now it was back to where I belonged. The rink. The grind. The game. After a hot shower, I threw on my black leggings, compression top, and a hoodie. Hair in a tight ponytail. Stick and gear in my bag. Protein bar in hand. I was out the door before the sky fully woke up. The arena loomed up ahead, lights already glowing. The air was crisp and sharp—just like I liked it. When I walked in, I was instantly met with a wave of heat and banter. Most of the team had arrived early, already in their gear, sticks in hand. And of course—there was Xavier. Always the first to show up. Always the center of attention. Lucien

MELISSA'S POV Two days left. After our final team practice, my body felt like it had been hit by a bus, but my mind refused to rest. Every muscle ached, my shoulders heavy from days of hard drills and skating, yet I was restless. I knew what was coming. Mexico. The tournament. The weight of expectations. Coach had told me earlier to expect a delivery soon—my passport and visa card. He said everything had been processed, and the federation wanted us to fly out early and settle in before match prep officially began. I was grateful for the heads-up. That morning, I was sprawled across my couch, replaying our final drill sequences when the doorbell rang. I jumped up, heart lurching from the sudden sound. I opened the door and there it was: a small brown parcel stamped with urgent clearance and my name printed in bold. Inside, my passport sat next to the green approval card with Mexico's seal. I held them both in my hand for a moment, letting the reality settle in. This was it. I was

MELISSA'S POV The moment I stepped back into the hotel room, I peeled off my jacket and exhaled like I’d been holding my breath for hours. Maybe I had. The pressure was eating at me, and no amount of deep breathing or warm showers could shake it. I walked straight into the bathroom, turned on the faucet, and let the hot water run. Steam filled the space quickly, fogging up the mirror. I stripped and stepped into the shower, hoping the water would do something to drown the anxiety coursing through me. The match was this evening. The tournament that had brought us halfway across the world. We were hours away from the real game, and my nerves were spiraling. Losing was not an option. Mexico’s team had put their faith in us. In me and Xavier. Us. Funny how that sounded. But it was true. They saw us as the key players—the backbone of a game that had to be won. Even Coach had said it himself. We didn’t come all the way from Manchester for nothing. We had a name to protect, a nation t

MELISSA'S POVCoach’s voice sliced through the locker room like a blade."What the hell was that out there?!"We all froze, every single one of us drenched in sweat and frustration. My chest still heaved from the first half, heart pounding like a drum in my ears. Xavier sat silently on the bench beside me, jaw tight, gaze fixed on the floor."You think talent wins games? It doesn’t. Focus does. Grit does. And right now, Team America is eating you alive because they want it more. You came here for fame or photos or fanfare? Go home. If you came here to win, then get your act together!"The room stayed silent.He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair, then turned to Xavier and me."You two are the engine. Either start running the damn train, or we’re off the tracks."He stormed out.The locker room stayed silent for a few more seconds before Xavier muttered, "Well… that was inspiring."Despite myself, I laughed—short and dry.We locked eyes.No words were exchanged, but some