جميع فصول : الفصل -الفصل 30

Samantha’s POVThe moment Celeste cornered me, I knew this wasn’t going to be a friendly conversation that I would like. Hell, I wasn’t even in the mood to be having any kind of conversation with anyone. Her smile was too sharp, her eyes too watchful, and the way she folded her arms across her chest screamed bitterness. It was as if she had come to mock me and for some reason, it hurt more than I wanted it to.“So,” Celeste began, her tone wrapped in honey but dripping with acid, “you took my spot.”I blinked, pretending not to understand. I never took her spot. That wasn’t fair. Maybe my only crime was stepping into the empty space she left behind. She had been injured, her leg in no shape to skate. Anthony needed a partner, and I needed one too. It was survival, not theft. A deal that worked for both of us.“Your spot?” I repeated softly, almost like a question.“Don’t act coy, Samantha.” Her lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. She stepped closer, her perfume shar

Anthony’s POVI parked the car and let out a long sigh. My hands were still on the steering wheel, gripping it tightly like if I let go, everything would fall apart. The parking lot wasn’t full, but I still felt like too many eyes were on me. Maybe it was paranoia, maybe it was reality. I had gotten used to hiding myself… cap, mask, oversized hoodie…like I was running from something. In a way, I was.But in the world of figure skating, one could never be too careful, especially if you were Anthony Vale. My life had been a headline long before I ever won anything worth printing. Reporters trailed my every move, sometimes so close I could hear the shutters clicking like a swarm of locusts. There were days when I had to sprint to my car just to shake them off. They showed up everywhere: outside my front door, across the street on a supposed “quiet” date, at lunch tables with their cameras hidden under menus, even in the hushed silence of a library. For years, I’d lived with the spotl

Anthony’s POV My heart stopped. The words didn’t sound real, like they were meant for someone else.“Progression?” My voice cracked, higher than I intended.“Yes.” Dr. Morgan’s tone was steady, but I caught the slight tightening of his jaw. “The condition is still in its earlier stages, but it has advanced compared to your last visit. That means we’ll need to take it more seriously moving forward.”I blinked at him, as though if I stared long enough, he might take it back. “What… what does that mean?” I asked, the question tasting bitter in my mouth.“For now,” he said carefully, folding his hands together on top of the desk, “medication, regular monitoring, and lifestyle adjustments. You’ll need to avoid too much strain, avoid direct bright lights when you can. Protect your vision as best as possible.”My throat went dry. Protect your vision. The phrase didn’t sound like advice. It sounded like a countdown. A warning. A threat. How was I supposed to protect my vision when skating wa

Celeste’s POVI sat in the booth, tapping my fingers against the table. The restaurant was half-full, people chatting around me, forks clinking against plates, but it all felt like background noise. My eyes kept flicking toward the door.The text had been clear: 4:00 p.m. Sharp.I checked my phone again. 4:15. Still nothing.I sighed and leaned back, staring at the half-empty glass in front of me. If there was one thing that the sport of figure skating had taught me, it was being punctual. The sport disciplined skaters to always keep to time because timing was very important.If he didn’t show, maybe it was for the best. Maybe he got cold feet, maybe he realized it was too risky. People usually did. Nobody wanted to get tangled in Anthony Vale’s mess or any other top skater for that matter.I reached for the glass, ready to finish the last sip and walk out, when the bell over the door chimed. I glanced up.There he was.Relief mixed with irritation as I raised my hand and waved him ov

Samantha’s POVGraham parked the car in front of the building, and I sighed for what felt like the hundredth time that morning. I had gotten little to no sleep last night again, and the worst part was realizing this was starting to become a toxic pattern. I’d toss, I’d turn, I’d stare at the ceiling until my eyes burned, and still, sleep wouldn’t come. My mind was restless, circling the same thoughts over and over. And funny thing, no, not funny at all, was that every time, it all boiled down to one person. Anthony.It didn’t matter how much I told myself I didn’t care. It didn’t matter how many times I swore I’d never let him get under my skin. He still managed to crawl his way into my head like some unwanted song I couldn’t turn off. His face. His voice. The way he looked at me during practice, like he was both my partner and my problem at the same time. The way the world adored him, even when he didn’t deserve it.I hated how much space he took up in my mind. And yet, here I was