All Chapters of Ice King Obsession : Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

The finals felt different.Not louder. Not bigger.Heavier.The stadium lights blazed against the night sky, turning everything silver and gold, but Atticus felt none of it. The cheers, the chants, the flashing cameras—it all blurred into noise. His fingers tightened around the edge of his jersey as he stood in the tunnel, waiting to step onto the court.One game.One last game.And somehow, it felt like everything was on the line.Not just the championship.Her.He hadn’t spoken to Sheila properly in three days.Three days since Elena’s public stunt—since the rumors started again, since the media twisted everything, since Sheila had stepped back with that fragile smile that didn’t reach her eyes.“I don’t want to be the reason your career falls apart,” she had whispered.As if she was the problem.As if loving her was something to apologize for.Atticus inhaled sharply.He scanned the stands once more.And then he saw her.Sheila.Third row from the bottom, near the team section. No

The silence after the storm felt strange.Not peaceful.Not chaotic.Just… waiting.Sheila sat on the balcony of Atticus’s apartment, knees pulled to her chest, watching the city lights blink like distant stars. The finals trophy sat inside on the coffee table, reflecting the dim lamp glow. It should have felt like the end of something.Instead, it felt like the beginning.The media had quieted slightly after Atticus’s subtle warning to Elena. No dramatic exposé. No public meltdown. Just tension simmering beneath headlines.But tension didn’t scare Sheila the way it used to.What scared her now was something softer.Hope.The balcony door slid open quietly.Atticus stepped out, two mugs in his hands.“You’re thinking too loud again,” he said gently.She gave him a small smile. “You can hear that?”“Yeah. It echoes.”He handed her the mug and sat beside her on the outdoor couch. Their shoulders touched.Warm.Grounding.For a while, they just sat there.No dramatic speeches.No heavy c

The headlines were brutal.Not hateful.Not scandalous.But intense.“ATTICUS AND SHEILA GO PUBLIC — LOVE OR PUBLICITY?”“FINAL MVP STEALS MORE THAN THE GAME.”“THE KISS THAT BROKE THE INTERNET.”Sheila stared at her phone early the next morning, the glow of the screen reflecting in her tired eyes.She should’ve been happy.They had won.They had survived the pressure.They had chosen each other in front of the world.So why did her chest feel tight?A knock on her apartment door pulled her from her thoughts.She didn’t need to check who it was.Atticus had a specific knock — two slow taps, then one softer one.She opened the door.He stood there in a hoodie and joggers, cap pulled low, eyes searching her face immediately.“You didn’t sleep,” he said quietly.“You did?”He exhaled.“Barely.”He stepped inside without waiting to be invited. His presence filled the room instantly — familiar, grounding.“Talk to me,” he murmured.She hesitated.“It’s just… everything feels loud again.”H

Finals week felt like war.The media didn’t calm down.If anything, they intensified.Headlines speculated about tension inside the team. About distractions. About whether Atticus could “handle pressure off the court.”Sheila avoided reading them.Atticus didn’t.He read every single one.And it showed.Practice became sharper.Quieter.He wasn’t yelling.He wasn’t joking.He wasn’t even smiling.He was locked in.Too locked in.Sheila watched from the far side of the gym, keeping her distance like the board had suggested. She stayed behind equipment racks, speaking only when necessary, keeping interactions strictly professional.It felt wrong.It felt cold.It felt like stepping backward.During a break, one of the younger players twisted his ankle. Sheila immediately moved, kneeling down, her voice calm and steady as she assessed him.Atticus saw it.And something about the way she focused—completely present, completely compassionate—made his chest tighten.That was who she was.Not

The noise didn’t stop.It multiplied.Within forty-eight hours of the championship kiss, Sheila couldn’t step outside without feeling eyes on her. Cameras waited near the apartment building. Blogs dissected her outfits. Comment sections argued over whether she was a “distraction” or “the reason he plays better.”She tried not to read them.She failed sometimes.That morning, she sat at the kitchen island with her laptop open, staring at an email from the league’s ethics committee.Subject: Review Meeting.Her stomach dropped.Atticus walked in shirtless, hair still damp from the shower, towel hanging around his neck. He took one look at her face and stopped.“What happened?”She turned the screen toward him.He read silently.His jaw tightened.“They’re reviewing conduct policies regarding relationships with team staff.”“You don’t even work there anymore,” he said immediately.“I did when we started.”His hand flexed.“They’re not suspending you,” she whispered.“They won’t.”“Atticu