Page 47

KATERINA

I wish I could say ignoring Aiden gets easier. It doesn’t.

Every time I step into the rink, every time I pass him in

the hallway, every time our eyes meet across the room—it’s like

something inside me cracks. But I refuse to let it show, because this is what I chose, right? So I deal with it. I force myself to move on. To focus. To pretend.

Aiden, though? He doesn’t pretend. He looks wrecked. His easy confidence? Gone. His sharp, cocky smirks? Nonexistent.

He’s there, but it’s like part of him isn’t. Like the fight’s been drained from him.

And the worst part? It’s because of me.

When we’re teaching, he doesn’t interact with me, Aiden

grabs his little ones and goes on his side of the arena without sparring me a single glance.

At practice, I keep my head down, but I feel him watching me. His presence is a weight pressing against my skin, a shadow that won’t leave. And when I stumble on a jump—not from lack of skill but because my mind won’t stop racing—I hear him curse under his breath from the other side of the glass. I snap my head up, glaring at him, daring him to say something. But he just shakes his head and turns away.

After practice, I head straight for the locker room, hoping to

escape before I have to face him again. But the second I round the corner, I slam into a solid chest. Warm hands steady me before I can fall, but I jerk away before I register who it is.

Aiden.

His jaw tightens as I step back, my pulse pounding in my ears. I don’t say anything. I don’t move. Neither does he.

For a long moment, we just stare at each other, tension thick, suffocating. His eyes are dark, stormy, like he’s barely holding himself together.

And then—

“Say it again.”

My stomach twists. “What?”

Aiden exhales sharply, stepping closer. “Say you don’t love me.”

My throat goes dry. How many times does he want me to say it?

He shakes his head, his voice lower, rougher. “Look me in the eye and say it.

I can’t.

I can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t do anything but stand here, locked in this battle I know I’m losing.

Aiden scoffs, raking a hand through his hair. “Say it, so I can move on.”

My chest tightens. “It doesn’t matter.”

I love you, I think to myself. I’m sorry for hurting you.

His gaze sharpens. “It matters to me.”

I press my lips together, forcing the words out before I can stop them. “Then that’s your problem.”

Aiden’s body locks up. His eyes darken, something breaking in them. For a second, I think he’s going to say something, that he’s going to fight for this. He steps back and nods, walking away. And this time, he doesn’t look back.

This time, I think I might have actually lost him. And this time, I don’t know if I’ll survive it. Aiden doesn’t speak to me after that. Not at practice. Not at the rink. Not anywhere. And I tell myself it’s a good thing. That this is what I wanted.

That this is better. But it’s not. Because now, instead of lingering stares and sharp-edged words, there’s nothing. And somehow, that’s worse.

A week passes like this. A week of Aiden walking past me like I don’t exist. Of watching him skate harder, push himself further, like he’s trying to burn me out of his system.

Like I was never there to begin with. I should be relieved. I should be happy that he finally got the message. But all I feel is cold. Alina corners me after practice, slamming her locker shut with unnecessary force.

“Okay, enough.”

I sigh, pulling off my skates. “I don’t have the energy for this right now.”

“Well, too bad, because I do.”

She crosses her arms, eyes flashing.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

I glance up, my throat tightening. “Nothing.”

She glares at me. “You’ve been a ghost for the past week. And Aiden?”

Her voice softens. “Kat, he looks wrecked.”

Something inside me twists, sharp and painful. But I force myself to keep my expression blank. “That’s not my problem.”

Alina makes a sound of frustration. “God, you’re impossible.”

I don’t respond. Just focus on untying my skates with fingers that suddenly feel too stiff.

After a long silence, she exhales. “You don’t have to punish yourself, you know.” I flinch.

“I’m not—”

“Yes, you are.”

She kneels beside me, her voice gentler now.

“You’re scared. And instead of facing it, you’re pushing away the one person who actually sees you.”

I clench my jaw, staring down at my hands. “I don’t know how to do this, Alina.”

She nudges me. “Then let him teach you.”

I shake my head, my throat burning. “I can’t.”

Alina sighs, her expression heavy with something I don’t want to name.

“You’re going to have to figure this out eventually, Kat. Before it’s too late, because others would kill to have someone love them, the way Aiden loves you.”

She leaves, and I sit there alone, the weight of her words pressing down on me. I know she is talking about herself.

That night, I make the mistake of checking my phone. There’s nothing from Aiden, of course, but there is a picture of Aiden at a party.

He is in the background, standing next to some girl I don’t recognize.

She’s close—too close. Leaning into him, smiling up at him

like she already knows she has his attention.

And Aiden? He is smiling at her. My heart rate picks up and something sharp lodges in my chest.

I turn my phone off and toss it onto my bed, but the image

sticks.

He’s moving on and maybe that’s what I wanted, but seeing hime smiling at other girls, I realise that, that’s not what i want. I don’t want him to move on.

I don’t sleep. Not really. I stare at the ceiling, replaying every moment with Aiden. The way he looked at me. The way he used to see me. Now he’s just gone. At some point, I do the only thing I can think of.

I call my mom, even though It’s eleven pm in Russia, she answers after two rings, her voice soft with concern.

“Katerina?”

I exhale shakily. “Hey, Mom.”

A pause. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

I press my palm against my forehead. Where do I even start?

“I—”

My voice cracks. “I hurt someone. And I think I hurt him badly.”

My mother is quiet for a long moment. “Aiden?”

Tears burn my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall.

“Yeah.”

She exhales, her voice knowing. Too knowing. “And now you regret it.”

I let out a strangled laugh. “That’s the problem. I don’t know.”

I close my eyes, my throat tight. “I don’t know how to let someone stay, Mom. I don’t know how to let someone close without waiting for them to leave.”

My mother is quiet, and when she finally speaks, her voice is

softer than I’ve ever heard it.

“Katerina, baby… I know why you’re scared.”

I grip the blanket tighter, feeling like a child again.

“I know you’re hurt from everything that has happened,”

she continues. “But you can’t push people away just because you’re scared they might leave or hurt you.”

I swallow, the tears dangerously close now.

“I don’t want to lose him,”

I whisper. “But I don’t know how to keep him, either.”

She sighs. “Then start small. Talk to him. Let him see that

you care. Even if it’s scary.”

I nod, even though she can’t see me. “Okay.”

The next morning, Alexei shows up at my door and he’s not alone. He’s holding a bag of croissants and two cups of coffee. I raise an eyebrow, but he just pushes past me into my apartment.

“You look like shit,”

he says cheerfully, setting the coffee on the counter.

I scowl. “Good morning to you, too.”

He flops onto my couch, kicking his feet up. “We’re having a Kat Day.”

I blink at him. “A what?”

Alexei grins. “A Kat Day. Where we do, everything you love. Movies. Junk food. Skating—if you want. No boys. No drama. Just you and me.”

I stare at him, and something in my chest eases. Alexei knows. He sees me in a way I sometimes forget.

I sit down beside him, taking a sip of coffee. “Fine. But I get to pick the movie.”

He smirks. “Go ahead, Malyshka. But I swear to God if you pick some depressing French indie film, I’m walking out.”

Somewhere between watching three movies and eating way too much popcorn, I start to feel human again.

Alexei doesn’t push. He doesn’t ask about Aiden.

He just lets me exist.