Page 28

The day of Amara's qualifying competition arrived faster than she had expected. The rink was abuzz with spectators, coaches, and press, all bustling with anticipation. Amara sat on the bench in the locker room, tightening her skates and taking deep breaths to calm her nerves. She knew this performance would be crucial for her career. But with every jump, spin, and pirouette she'd practiced, her thoughts would drift to Liam, and the weight of the rumors surrounding them would cloud her mind.

As she stood, preparing to step onto the ice, her phone buzzed with a message. She glanced at the screen and saw it was from Liam.

"You're going to be incredible out there. Just focus and remember why you love this. I'm here for you."

Amara smiled, feeling a rush of comfort. She pocketed her phone, breathed deeply, and focused on the routine she had spent months perfecting. She needed to shut out the noise, the whispers, the fear—and remember what brought her to the ice in the first place.

As she took her position on the rink, the lights dimmed, and her music began to play.

She moved gracefully through the routine, her body flowing with each note, each beat.

But as she executed a series of jumps, a glint of a camera flash caught her eye.

Distracted for only a split second, she stumbled slightly, recovering quickly, but she knew the momentary falter wouldn't go unnoticed.

When her performance ended, there was applause, but she could sense the tension in the air.

Backstage, she tried to avoid looking at the judges' scores, feeling a wave of disappointment. Despite all her hard work, she couldn't shake the feeling that she hadn't given her best performance. She closed her eyes, trying to block out the murmurs of fellow skaters and coaches around her. But it was impossible to ignore the scrutiny; everywhere she looked, people seemed to be staring, whispering.

As she gathered her things, she felt a familiar presence by her side. Liam had come backstage, managing to slip past the throng of reporters. He put a gentle hand on her shoulder, his eyes warm and reassuring.

"You were brilliant out there," he said softly, his voice a balm against her frazzled nerves.

She sighed, shaking her head. "I made a mistake. I shouldn't have been distracted. This was supposed to be the performance that proved I was ready for the international stage."

"Amara," he replied, looking deeply into her eyes, "one misstep doesn't erase your talent. You've got so much more ahead of you."

Before she could respond, her coach appeared, his expression grave. "Amara, a word?" he said, glancing briefly at Liam with thinly veiled disapproval.

She looked between the two men, her heart sinking as she excused herself and followed her coach to a quieter corner. He didn't waste any time getting to the point.

"Amara, I know you've been working hard," he began, crossing his arms. "But I have to be honest. The attention your relationship with Mr. Miller is bringing—it's affecting your focus. And it's affecting how others see you. This isn't just about you anymore. It's about your reputation, your future."

Amara's stomach twisted with guilt and frustration. "I understand," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "But my personal life... it's my own."

"Maybe," he replied, his tone softening slightly, "but this world is ruthless. You need to ask yourself: are you prepared to sacrifice the career you've worked so hard for? If this continues, it might come down to a choice."

The weight of his words lingered long after he walked away. She felt a hand on her back, steady and comforting—Liam. She hadn't even noticed him return, but his presence soothed her.

"I heard what he said," he murmured, his voice filled with regret. "Amara, if this is hurting you, maybe we should..." He paused, the words painful even to voice.

She shook her head immediately, her heart racing. "No, Liam. I don't want to end this. But it's becoming harder to keep our lives separate. And it's not fair for either of us to live like this."

He took her hand, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. "Maybe we've been trying too hard to keep everything a secret. Maybe it's time we stop hiding."

Amara looked at him, feeling a surge of both fear and relief. "But the media—they'll twist everything. They'll drag us both through the mud."

He nodded, understanding all too well. "They will. But I'd rather be honest about us than pretend. I'm tired of pretending, Amara. I want to support you openly. And if that means facing whatever comes with it, then so be it."

The idea of being out in the open terrified her.

But standing there, with Liam's hand in hers, she felt a spark of courage she hadn't felt in weeks.

She didn't want to hide anymore, didn't want to keep denying what they meant to each other.

Maybe this was the price of love in the world they inhabited—risking it all for something real.

That night, as they walked through the quiet streets, Amara felt a sense of peace wash over her. They passed a newsstand, where a tabloid headline speculated about her "mystery man." Liam stopped and glanced at it, then back at her, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"What do you say we give them something to talk about?" he teased gently, pulling her close and pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Amara laughed, the sound feeling like a release. She hadn't laughed like that in days, maybe weeks. And in that moment, she knew she was making the right choice. Whatever storm might come, she was ready to face it—with him.