All Chapters of On Thin Ice With You: Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

The table looks like a small, satisfied disaster—almost nothing left, the serving dishes scraped clean, the bread basket empty.Alice stands and begins collecting plates with the quiet contentment of someone whose work has been properly received."I'll bring these in," Ethan says, already on his feet, stacking the larger bowls.Mia sees her moment. She gathers the remaining scraps into the bin liner, ties it off, and picks up her phone from the sideboard in one smooth movement."I'll take the rubbish out," she calls toward the kitchen. "Get some air."Her voice trails off as she reaches the entrance hall, and then the front door closes behind her.***Mia walks back from the bins slowly, phone in hand, checking her messages.Lisa has sent three messages—work-related, the early-riser's version of a greeting. Elias hasn't sent anything yet, which means he's still in training. Ellie definitely hasn't sent anything, which means she's still asleep.She puts the phone back in her pocket and

When Mia finally drifts awake, the winter sun is bleeding through the edges of the heavy blackout curtains, pooling across the floor in bright, warm patches.She reaches for her phone, squinting at the screen. It is nearly eleven in the morning.She climbs out of bed with a slow, feline stretch, her joints popping in the heavy silence. Wrapping a cardigan over her shoulders, she pads downstairs.The ground floor is a sanctuary of warmth, the scent of expensive tea and woodsmoke hanging in the air.Ethan is a rare sight at home on a weekday. Dressed in a charcoal sweater and gold-rimmed glasses, he is leaning back into the sofa, absorbed in a medical journal. Beside him, Alice is peeling an apple, the red skin spiraling down in a single, unbroken ribbon.Mia pauses at the base of the stairs, capturing the cinematic domesticity on her phone before Alice looks up and catches her eye."Sleeping Beauty awakens," Alice teases, her face brightening. "Did you sleep well?""Better than well,"

The ice at the Spartak Complex is fast and clean, the way Russian rinks tend to be.Elias glides through the pre-game skate feeling the blade catch and hold, adjusting to the slight difference in surface that every foreign ice has.His teammates have been razzing him all week—is your head actually in this, Weston—and he's been too tired to do much more than ignore it.Elias has never once let himself fall apart on the ice when it mattered. Not in the early years, when he was chasing roster spots with teams that shuffled their lineups every month. Not in the seasons before he locked into the Raiders, before Mia.He'd wanted to represent his country. He'd wanted to earn his place rather than inherit it. He'd done both.Going public with Mia hadn't been reckless—it had been a calculated confidence. He knows where the line is between his personal life and his professional one, and he's never crossed it. He won't now. Whatever is said about his focus, he'll answer it the only way that ever

The cold outside Sheremetyevo's terminal is a relentless, negotiating force, but inside, the duty-free zone is a shimmering place of gold leaf and fluorescent lights.The Raiders drift apart gradually, pulled into the orbit of different luxury stalls like stray satellites while they wait for their flight back to Toronto.Elias moves through the crowd. He passes hand-carved nutcrackers, glass ornaments wrapped in intricate wire, and a stall selling honey-thick amber. They are pretty things, skillfully made, but none of them possess the gravity to stop him.Then, he reaches a porcelain boutique.It is illuminated with a soft, museum-like glow that makes its neighbors look garish. What catches his eye is a pair of cups—Meissen. He recognizes the crossed-swords mark on the base instantly. His mother has a penchant for the brand.There are two of them, identical in shape, both featuring a delicate gold rim and exquisite raised detailing. One has a deep blush ground, with cream and coral fl

Then Ethan speaks, and his voice is entirely even. "A professional athlete," he says. "His schedule must be irregular. Training every day, matches, travel—does he actually have time for you? For a real friendship, I mean. The way you have time for Ellie."It's not what she expected. He's cut straight to the most practical concern, bypassed the question of who, bypassed the question of what exactly the relationship is, and landed on: can this actually work?Alice follows his lead, her voice a shade gentler but no less direct. "And if a match takes him overseas for days at a time, what then? You can't exactly meet up for coffee when he's on another continent. Can he give that kind of time consistently?"Mia smooths her expression. "Their schedule isn't as relentless as you'd think. When they've had a good run of results, the time between commitments opens up. And seasons have peaks and off-periods—it's not a constant sprint."She keeps her voice light. "We manage the time fine.""That's