Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 91 - Chapitre 100

December has settled properly over Toronto now. The city has dressed itself for Christmas.Only three days remain before Mia is scheduled to fly back home, and the weight of the impending distance sits heavy between them.Having caught wind of her budding interest in the history of Hockey, Elias takes a rare, deliberate day of leave from the team.Mia stands outside the Hockey Hall of Fame and looks up at the bronze sculptures by the entrance—players caught mid-motion, blades angled, sticks raised, the metal dark against the pale winter sky.She shifts closer to Elias without quite deciding to."They're very realistic," she says."They won't move.""I know that intellectually."On a total impulse, she tugs a surprised Elias toward a random passerby, flagging them down to snap a few photos of them together right there in that historic corner.Five minutes later she has four photographs, Elias's arm around her shoulders in each of them, and the stranger has walked away looking slightly

The replica locker room is the last stop before the closing announcement echoes through the building.It's a faithful reconstruction—the long rows of stalls, the numbered hooks, the rubber floor, the particular smell of equipment that exists in every hockey facility and apparently also in their museum versions.Elias positions himself in front of Mia."When I was fifteen, I came in after a bad training session. I sat on that bench over there for an hour.""There was an old caretaker who came through. He pointed at the entrance to the room and said—every champion who ever came out of here sat in here first and wondered if they were enough."Mia listens without filling the space."He said doubt isn't the problem. Being beaten by it is." Elias looks at the bench, then back at her. "I've thought about it a lot since. Whether I'm being honest about the difference—whether I'm pushing through something real, or just running from something I haven't addressed.""And?""And I think I've learne

The restaurant Mia chooses is tucked away in the back half of Little Italy, far beyond the tourist traps with their flickering candles and English menus. This place is narrow, smelling of dried bird's-eye chilis and fermented citrus—a room that feels like a secret.Calabria is the toe of the Italian boot, a region that met the challenge of a harsh sun by infusing every bite with fire."This is the spicy part of Italy," Mia says, her eyes dancing with a wicked sort of mischief as she watches him settle into the wooden chair.Elias shifts, his large frame making the small table feel intimate, almost private. He meets her gaze, his gray blue eyes tracking the playful curve of her lips. "How spicy are we talking?""You'll see." She opens the menu.He had volunteered for this, a fact she intends to hold over his head.When the owner arrives, Mia slips into Italian. The man's eyes widen, flicking toward the massive Canadian athlete before he nods with a knowing smirk. He brings bread and di

The apartment doesn't just feel empty once she's back in it alone.Mia stands before the open wardrobe, her fingers hovering over a silk blouse she's decided to leave behind.In September, this space felt like a temporary camp. Now, she knows the exact creak of the floorboards and the way the winter light hits the kitchen tile at noon.She knows she'll be back, but that knowledge does little to settle the strange, restless thrumming in her veins.The suitcase on the bed is a chaotic mosaic of her life in Canada—specialty chocolates, maple syrup in a bottle shaped like a leaf, and the ridiculous collection of stuffed animals she's amassed.She lines the plush toys up with a solemnity that borders on the absurd, her heart tightening as she decides which ones get to see Milan and which ones have to stay behind to guard the silence.Then, her phone buzzes. The screen lights up with a face that has become her favorite kind of trouble.Elias. Video Call.She swipes to answer, her thumb ling

The road to Pearson International is a graveyard of idling engines and gray intentions. On the day of her departure, the highway groans under the weight of holiday traffic, a relentless stream of metal pressing against the asphalt.Departure is a bitter pill, and no one tastes the iron in it more clearly than Elias.He adjusts his grip on the steering wheel with one hand, while the other reaches across the console. He finds Mia's hand and threads his fingers through hers, a firm, interlaced lock that says more than a thousand "don't go".The departure gates at Pearson are exactly the nightmare Mia anticipated. The line of cars stretches into an infinite horizon of brake lights and exhaust."Looks like we're going to be stuck here for a while," Mia says, straightening her back to peer through the windshield. "The holidays are a curse. No exceptions.""Everyone's desperate for a reunion," Elias murmurs, his gray eyes cutting to her. "Like you.""Or maybe they're just escaping," she teas