Page 9

The rink was almost empty that evening, the faint glow of the overhead lights casting long shadows across the ice. Amara was winding down after an exhausting practice, sitting on the edge of the rink with her skates still laced up, her breaths steadying as she stared into the dim quiet.

She almost didn't notice him at first, standing just outside the rink, hands tucked into his pockets as he watched her. It wasn't the first time he'd shown up unexpectedly, but something about his expression tonight felt different—softer, almost vulnerable.

"Liam?" she called, half-surprised but unable to keep the smile from her face.

He stepped forward, his smile barely visible in the soft light. "Mind if I join you?"

She shook her head, and he took a seat beside her on the bench. For a few moments, they sat in silence, watching the ice stretch out before them. There was an unspoken weight between them, as if each of them felt that tonight was different, that this moment mattered.

"I know it's late," Liam said, breaking the silence. "But I wanted to catch you here... skating, just you and the ice. There's something about it that's... peaceful."

She looked over at him, sensing a hint of nostalgia in his voice. "You make it sound like you know that feeling yourself."

He hesitated, his gaze distant, almost as if he was lost in a memory. "I do. I used to love skating as a kid. My mom... she'd take me to the rink every Saturday morning. It was just the two of us, carving circles in the ice. She used to say it was our way of flying."

Amara felt her heart tighten, the vulnerability in his voice stirring something tender within her. "What happened?"

He glanced down, his expression clouding. "My parents... they passed away when I was twelve. After that, there was no one to take me to the rink. My life shifted, became all about survival and moving forward. Skating felt like a memory from another life."

Amara reached over, placing a hand on his arm without thinking. "I'm so sorry, Liam. I can't imagine what that must've been like."

He looked at her, a soft gratitude in his eyes. "Thank you. But it wasn't all bad. Those days... they're some of my best memories. Skating was my escape, my way of feeling free. And when I see you out there on the ice, it reminds me of that feeling, of something I'd almost forgotten."

Her heart softened even more, realizing that beneath his polished, composed exterior was someone who understood pain, loss, and resilience in a way she hadn't guessed. He'd built his life from the ground up, shaped by memories he couldn't forget but had learned to live without.

"Do you ever miss it?" she asked gently. "The feeling of skating?"

Liam gave a small, wistful smile. "Sometimes. But life has a way of taking us down paths we never expected. For me, it was business, building something out of nothing. I never had time to look back."

"But you're here now," she replied softly. "Maybe it's not too late to find that feeling again."

He looked at her, his gaze warm yet guarded, as if her words had touched something within him that he'd buried long ago. "Maybe," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe."

They sat there in silence, their shoulders just barely touching, each of them lost in their own thoughts yet somehow connected. The ice stretched out before them, a canvas of quiet possibility, and Amara felt an unexpected urge to break the stillness.

"Come on," she said, standing up and extending a hand to him.

Liam looked at her, surprised. "What?"

"Skate with me," she said, her eyes bright with a mixture of playfulness and earnestness. "Just for a few minutes. Let's see if we can bring back that feeling you're missing."

He hesitated, glancing down at his dress shoes, but the look in her eyes made him pause.

Slowly, he took her hand, letting her guide him onto the ice.

His steps were unsteady at first, cautious as he found his balance, and she grinned, feeling a rush of joy at seeing this confident, collected man out of his element.

"Easy there," she said, holding him steady. "It's like riding a bike, right?"

He chuckled, his grip on her hand tightening. "I think you're overestimating my coordination."

They glided forward slowly, his tentative movements gradually growing more assured as he found his rhythm.

Amara led him in slow circles around the rink, their laughter echoing softly in the empty space.

The lines between them blurred as they moved, laughter and nostalgia mingling with something unspoken yet undeniably real.

And as they skated, Amara saw a different side of Liam—the boy who had loved the ice, who had once dreamed of flying. She could feel the years of distance between them fading away, replaced by something new and fragile, like the faint glimmer of dawn on the horizon.

Eventually, they slowed, coming to a gentle stop at the center of the rink. He was breathing hard, a light sheen of sweat on his brow, but his smile was genuine, unguarded, and it took her breath away.

"Thank you, Amara," he said, his voice quiet yet full of emotion. "I didn't realize how much I missed this."

She looked up at him, her heart beating a little faster. "Maybe it's time to start letting yourself feel again, Liam. Not everything in life has to be about moving forward. Sometimes, we have to hold on to the things that make us feel alive."

He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face, his fingers lingering for just a moment longer than necessary. "You make it sound so easy."

She gave him a soft, knowing smile. "It's not. But some things are worth the risk."

They held each other's gaze, the weight of their words settling between them. She could feel the warmth of his hand still lingering on her skin, a subtle reminder of the vulnerability they'd both shared, of the memories and dreams they'd begun to uncover.

And as they stood there, surrounded by the quiet expanse of the ice, Amara realized that she no longer wanted to keep her heart closed off, that maybe—just maybe—she was ready to take a risk, to let herself trust him, to let herself feel.

For tonight, it was enough.