The next morning, the private medical suite felt entirely different.The harsh morning sunlight was filtering through the high, reinforced glass windows, cutting sharp, golden bars across the rubber floor mats and the stainless-steel counters. The heavy, restless tension that usually hung in the air like an unexploded bomb was gone, replaced by something much more dangerous: a quiet, domestic ease that felt entirely too natural for a team captain and his head physiotherapist.I was standing by the corner prep station, my white lab coat neatly pressed and buttoned over a clean blue button-down, scrolling through a tablet full of morning injury reports. My fingers paused over a recovery metric for our backup goaltender, but my mind was entirely anchored to the warm, heavy weight of an arm currently draped lazily across my lower back.Stefan was standing right behind me, his chest flush against my shoulder blades. He had already gone through morning on-ice drills upstairs, his dark ha
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