ੈ✩‧₊˚
IRL
*ੈ✩‧₊˚

↳"YOU THINK THIS IS
JUST ABOUT A
SKATING COMPETITION?"

EIGHT DAYS UNTIL THE COMPETITION:

Lovette glided across the rink, her blades carving delicate crescents into the ice. Her routine, polished and practiced, unfolded like a melody. But as she finished with a flourish, landing her final jump with precision, an ache of dissatisfaction settled in her chest. Something was missing.

From the edge of the rink, Maddie clapped twice, her gloves muffling the sound. "It's good," she called out, her voice echoing in the empty arena. Lovette skated over, catching the hint of hesitation in her coach's tone. Maddie's brow furrowed, her lips twitching as if fighting to hold back the rest of her thoughts.

Lovette sighed, already knowing what was coming.

"It could be better," Maddie finally admitted.

"The quad axel," Lovette said, more a statement than a question. She rested her hands on her hips, her breath curling in visible wisps in the chilly air.

Maddie raised her hands in mock surrender, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Hey, you said it, not me!"

Lovette couldn't help but smile, even as her stomach twisted. The quad axle—a 4.5-rotation jump so notoriously difficult that only a handful of skaters had ever landed it in competition. It was the pinnacle of ambition, and the risk was immense. But the thought of nailing it, of doing something that would set her apart and leave the judges breathless, tugged at her heart. She bit her lip, a flicker of determination lighting in her chest.

"If you want to win," Maddie said gently, "this is how you do it. You're good, Lovette. But this would make you unforgettable."

For a moment, the rink was silent except for the hum of the refrigeration system. Lovette closed her eyes, picturing the faces of her parents. She thought of the competitors she would face, each one fighting for the same glory. Then, she thought of herself—her dreams and her drive.

"Let's do it," she said, her voice firm.

Maddie grinned, the kind of grin that made Lovette feel like a kid again, trying tricks under her coach's watchful eye. "Alright, we'll start slow," Maddie said, sliding onto the ice beside her. "Let's see how it feels for you first. No expectations. Just go for it."

Lovette nodded and skated to the center of the rink. Maddie walked her through the mechanics, her voice steady as she broke down the jump step by step: the takeoff, the axis of rotation, the timing of the landing. It wasn't new information, but hearing it again felt like brushing dust off an old trophy.

"Alright," Maddie said, stepping back. "Whenever you're ready."

Lovette exhaled deeply, bending her knees as she prepared to take off. The ice beneath her blades felt solid yet slick, like it was daring her to push harder. She swung her arms, launched herself into the air, and rotated. One, two, three... four revolutions blurred together.

Her landing was far from clean. Her skate caught the edge awkwardly, and she toppled onto the ice, a sharp gasp escaping her lips. For a moment, she stayed down, the sting of failure mingling with the chill seeping through her clothes.

But Maddie was there in an instant, her hand extended. "Hey, not bad for a first try," she said, her voice bright. "You got the height, and your axis was solid. That's more than most people get right off the bat."

Lovette took her coach's hand and got to her feet, her legs shaking from adrenaline. Maddie's grin was unwavering, her enthusiasm contagious.

"Again?" Maddie asked.

Lovette nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. She didn't need to say it aloud—she wanted this. She wanted it badly enough to fall a hundred more times if that's what it took.

SEVEN DAYS UNTIL THE COMPETITION:

Chris' heartbeat thrummed steadily beneath Lovette's ear, a comforting rhythm that made her feel as though the world outside his room didn't exist. His fingers tangled with hers, absentmindedly tracing little patterns on her skin.

They were sprawled against his headboard, the pillows fluffed just enough to cradle their heads. Lovette's head rested on his chest, her cheek warm against his hoodie. Chris shifted slightly, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. His lips lingered, soft and reassuring, like he wanted to bottle this moment for safekeeping.

"You're quiet," Lovette said, her voice barely above a whisper. She tilted her head to look up at him, her fingers still entwined with his. "What's on your mind?"

Chris glanced down at her, a small, lopsided smile tugging at his lips. "You."

Lovette blinked, her heart skipping a beat. "What about me?"

"Well, mainly about us," he said, as though that was enough to explain everything.

Her curiosity piqued, she straightened slightly, her head no longer on his chest but still close enough to feel his warmth. "What about us?"

He bit his lip, the faintest hint of nervousness flickering in his eyes before they softened again. "Our one-year anniversary is coming up," he said, his voice gentle but sure. "And I was thinking... what if I flew you out to L.A. before your semester starts?"

Lovette's eyes widened. "Wait—really?"

Chris chuckled, the sound deep and full of affection. "Really," he murmured before leaning down to kiss her lips softly. His hand cradled her jaw, his thumb brushing against her cheek as he deepened the kiss. The world seemed to blur around them, the only things that mattered were the warmth of his touch and the way he made her feel like she was the center of the universe.

Chris broke the kiss first, his thumb still resting on her cheek as he gazed at her with an almost childlike excitement. "So... is that okay with you?" he asked, his voice quiet but hopeful.

Lovette didn't trust her voice, so she nodded, her smile wide and uncontainable. Then, with a burst of giddiness, she leaned in to kiss him again, her hands curling into his hoodie as though letting go wasn't an option.

When they finally broke apart, Lovette rested her forehead against his, her smile softening. "Chris," she began tentatively, "when I visit... would you want to meet my parents?"

Chris blinked, a flicker of confusion crossing his face before understanding dawned. His expression softened as he studied her, his hand tracing gentle circles on her back. "At the cemetery?"

Lovette nodded, her voice quieter now. "Yeah. I know it's... a lot to ask. But it's something I've wanted to do for a while."

Chris leaned down to kiss her forehead again, his lips lingering as he answered softly, "Of course I would." His voice carried no hesitation, only a quiet certainty that made Lovette's chest ache with gratitude.

Her throat tightened, and she pressed herself closer to him, burying her face in his hoodie. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Chris hugged her tighter, his chin resting on her head. "You don't have to thank me," he murmured. "I'd be honoured."

SIX DAYS UNTIL THE COMPETITION:

The cold air of the rink bit at Lovette's cheeks as Maddie's voice cut through the stillness like a bell.

"All right, Lovette," Maddie called, her arms crossed but her eyes blazing with determination. "This is it. I want you to feel it. Commit to the takeoff. No second-guessing."

Lovette nodded, her chest tightening with both nerves and determination. Her landings for the quad-axle were getting better, but they weren't perfect. She skated to the edge of the rink, inhaling deeply. Maddie gave her a sharp nod from the boards, the corners of her mouth quirking up in the smallest of smiles. "You've got this, Lovette. Trust yourself."

Lovette glided into position, her heart thundering in her chest. She took one last breath, then pushed off, her movements sharp and precise. The buildup was quick—three powerful strokes into a tight curve, her arms pulling in as she launched into the air.

For a heartbeat, the world seemed to hold its breath.

She felt it this time—the axis of her body perfectly centred, the rotations blurring together as her training took over. One. Two. Three. Four. Her landing leg extended, bracing for impact, and—

Her blade sliced the ice cleanly. No wobble. No stumble. She was standing.

For a split second, the rink was silent.

Then Maddie let out a whoop so loud it echoed off the walls. "Yes! Lovette, you did it!"

Lovette blinked, her chest heaving as realization hit her like a tidal wave. She'd landed it. A grin split her face, and she threw her arms into the air, spinning in a victory circle.

Maddie was already on the ice, skates clattering as she rushed toward Lovette. She grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her slightly as if to make sure this wasn't a dream. "I knew you could do it! I knew it!" Maddie's eyes shone with pride, her smile so wide it looked like it might hurt. "You've worked so hard for this, and you fucking nailed it!"

Lovette's laughter bubbled up uncontrollably, tears pricking at her eyes. "I couldn't have done it without you," she said, her voice cracking.

Maddie pulled her into a quick hug, their breath visible in the chilly air. "You're the one out there doing the work, Lovette," she said softly, her tone warm and encouraging. "I just gave you the push. And look at you now."

Maddie clapped her hands together. "All right. Let's do it again."

FOUR DAYS UNTIL THE COMPETITION:

Lovette stood on Chris' front porch, her thumb hovering over the call button on her phone for the third time. She let out a breath and hit dial, listening to the line ring before it cut off. No voicemail, no text. She checked the screen—his phone was on Do Not Disturb.

Her chest tightened with irritation as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. They'd planned this date days ago. She glanced at the door, her reflection faintly visible in the glass, and rang the doorbell.

A moment later, the door opened to reveal MaryLou, her warm smile immediately softening some of Lovette's frustration.

"Lovette! It's so nice to see you," MaryLou said, stepping aside to let her in.

"Hi, Mrs. Sturniolo," Lovette greeted politely, though her voice held a touch of hesitance. She stepped inside, the familiar scent of cinnamon and coffee lingering in the air. "Is Chris home? We had plans today."

MaryLou's expression faltered for a split second before she regained her composure. "Oh, sweetheart, didn't he tell you? He's out filming."

Lovette blinked, the words hitting her like a slow, sinking weight. "Filming?"

MaryLou frowned slightly. "I thought he would've mentioned it."

Lovette forced a smile, though her stomach churned. "No, he didn't."

"Oh, honey." MaryLou's tone turned apologetic as she placed a hand on Lovette's arm. "You can wait here if you'd like. He should be back later. I can make you some tea or—"

"That's okay," Lovette interrupted, her voice quieter than she intended. "I don't mind waiting."

MaryLou hesitated but eventually nodded, leading Lovette upstairs to Chris' room.

Lovette perched on the edge of Chris' bed, her gaze sweeping over the cluttered desk, the neatly stacked notebooks, and the framed pictures on his nightstand. Hours passed. She scrolled aimlessly through her phone, checked the time repeatedly, and stared at the closed door, hoping with each sound from downstairs that it was him.

Her frustration ebbed into something heavier—a quiet ache that settled in her chest. Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes as doubts began to whisper. Days ago, they'd talked about their anniversary, about their future. Now, it felt like she was just another thing on his long list of priorities, easily forgotten. She wondered how many things he thought about before getting to her.

The sun had dipped low in the sky when she finally heard the door downstairs creak open. Footsteps echoed up the stairs, and Chris appeared in the doorway, his face lighting up with surprise.

"Lovie? What are you doing here?"

She stared at him blankly, her throat tight.

His expression shifted as realization dawned. "Lovette, I'm so sorry." He stepped further into the room, his hands raised in apology. "I completely forgot. I've been so stressed—pre-filming everything for the channel before we leave has been insane. I didn't mean to double-book myself, I swear."

Lovette's chest tightened as his words hit her. Double-book? She stared at him, blinking slowly. What am I, an appointment? The thought flashed through her mind before she could push it away. But the sting of it lingered, prickling her skin.

Lovette said nothing, her silence stretching between them. Chris ran a hand through his hair, his voice rushing now. "I should've told you—I wasn't thinking. I've just had so much on my plate. Please don't be mad."

Her eyes softened, but the hurt lingered. "I'm not mad," she said quietly, though her tone carried the weight of disappointment. "I just wish I felt like I mattered as much as all the other things you have going on."

Chris sighed, stepping closer, his hand reaching for hers. "Lovette, I swear, you're important to me. I'm just... I'm just drowning in everything. And I messed up. I'm sorry. You don't deserve this."

Lovette met his gaze, her chest tight. The words sounded right, but they felt distant. She wanted to believe him, wanted to feel like everything would fall back into place with just a hug, a kiss, a simple word of reassurance. But something inside her recoiled. It wasn't that she didn't care, it was just that it didn't feel like it was enough anymore. Her gaze dropped to their joined hands, her heart aching in a way she couldn't explain.

Chris noticed her silence and leaned in, pressing his forehead to hers. "I'll make it up to you. You're my priority, I promise."

She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to find the right words. But the truth was, she wasn't sure if she could believe that anymore.

But she nodded anyway. "Okay."

She wasn't sure if she was saying it because she still wanted to believe him or if it was because she just didn't want to fight.

THREE DAYS UNTIL THE COMPETITION:

The couple sat in Brew&Bloom, nestled in a cozy corner of the café where their first hangout had taken place. The soft hum of quiet conversations surrounded them, but Chris was focused on Lovette, who was absorbed in her phone. She wore one of his sweaters, the sleeves slightly too long, and a puffer vest that made her look effortlessly warm and stylish. He watched her fingers swipe back and forth on the screen, her brows furrowed in concentration.

"Are you okay?" Chris asked, setting his hot chocolate down, the warmth still clinging to the cup.

Lovette didn't look up right away. Instead, she turned her phone toward him, revealing a photo of a figure skating costume. It was a striking black dress, long-sleeved with a sheen that caught the light—its fabric looked almost liquid, the sleeves extending into sleek, sparkly gloves that made it look like she could glide through a dream.

She swiped again, showing a different outfit. This one was also black, but the fabric was softer, flowing out in a flared skirt, the kind that swayed with every movement. It was simple, but the way it flowed made it feel like something more—timeless, graceful.

"Which one do you like better?" she asked, her voice soft, but there was a quiet intensity to it, as if this decision mattered more than just a costume.

Chris tilted his head, his gaze drifting between the two dresses. He took a deep breath, trying to center himself. "What's the concept of your routine again?" he asked, his voice gentle.

Lovette's eyes softened as she explained, "It's about my grief... and how I wish it would just let me go."

Her words hung in the air, and Chris could see the weight they carried. He nodded, his eyes flickering between her and the dresses on the screen, the silence thick with understanding. Without another word, he swiped back to the first one—the long-sleeve, glittering costume that spoke of strength and poise.

"I think this one would be better," he said softly, his finger pausing over the screen. He looked up at her, his gaze steady.

Lovette smiled faintly, her fingers lingering over the screen as she looked at the dress one more time. But then, with a small sigh, she tucked her phone into her lap and reached for her coffee, taking a slow sip.

Chris watched her for a moment, then hesitated, his hand reaching across the table. "Hey, when's the competition? And where's it at?" he asked, his voice low, sincere.

Lovette reached for her phone, but before she could open it, Chris was already pulling out his phone, his fingers moving to unlock it. "I'll add it to our calendar so I don't forget," he said, looking at her with a small, reassuring smile. They'd been keeping a shared calendar for a while now, making sure they stayed in sync with each other's schedules. It was something simple, but it felt like another way to stay close, to be there for each other.

Lovette leaned back slightly, watching him as he tapped the details into his phone.  "It's in Cambridge. The competition starts at 12 PM on Sunday," she said.

Chris's fingers flew over the screen, adding the event with quick, practiced motions. "I've got it. I'll be there." His voice was firm, his eyes full of the same quiet certainty that always made her feel like everything would be okay when he was around.

"Thanks," she said quietly. "It really means a lot."

Chris grinned, leaning in to kiss her forehead. "You're gonna crush it," he said with a wink. "And I'll be right there cheering you on. Always."

DAY OF COMPETITION:

Lovette sat in the crowded stands, her legs dangling nervously as she observed the other competitors gliding across the ice with precision. The energy in the arena buzzed with anticipation. Because she had registered late, she was slated to perform last, and the time seemed to stretch endlessly as the other skaters took their turns. Between each performance, Lovette stared at her phone, hoping for any word from Chris. Nothing. His phone was on Do Not Disturb, and her eyes scanned the packed crowd for a glimpse of his familiar face, but he wasn't there. Her siblings, Maeve and Levi, were present, alongside them were Mateo, Imani, and Elijah. Their smiles comforting, but she couldn't shake the feeling of missing something—someone.

"Hey, let's do a run-through," Maddie called, snapping her out of her thoughts.

Lovette nodded, her focus snapping back to the rink. This wasn't just any competition. The energy was high. People had come from all over for the intercollegiate event. The stands were packed, a sea of students and families, all eager to see who would take home the title.

Lovette pulled her phone out again, glancing at the screen one more time. Nothing. Chris's phone was still on DND, and her stomach twisted. Before she could linger on the feeling, Maddie grabbed her phone from her hands.

"Focus, Lovette," Maddie said, her tone gentle but firm. "There are only three skaters until you're on."

Lovette clenched her jaw and nodded. Maddie was right. There was no room for distractions now. She couldn't afford to think about Chris's absence. She shoved the anxiety down as Maddie took her through the routine. Maddie didn't have to say it aloud, but Lovette could feel the pressure of performing the quad axle. They went over every step of the move, from the setup to the precise timing of the takeoff. The move was gruelling, a beast of a trick, and Maddie had seen Lovette struggle with it.

Before she knew it, she was making her way to the ice. The announcer's voice boomed through the speakers, calling her name and the college she represented. The crowd buzzed, some applauding, others watching eagerly. Lovette stood tall at the center of the rink, the spotlight warm on her skin, the music beginning to pulse through her veins. Her heart beat in sync with the rhythm. This was it—the moment she'd trained for, the moment she had to give everything she had.

The first few steps flowed effortlessly. She felt the glide of the ice under her blades, the familiar rush of wind as she moved. But when the music swelled, she steadied herself for the quad axle. The beat dropped, and in that fraction of a second, everything narrowed down to that singular motion.

Lovette's body moved instinctively—strong, fluid, precise. Her arms pulled in tightly as she launched herself into the air. Four full rotations spun through her head, the ice below becoming a blur of white. She could hear the breath catch in her throat, but there was no room for hesitation. She landed. The skate blades bit cleanly into the ice, and she absorbed the impact with precise control, her body staying perfectly centred. Her legs were strong and steady, not a hint of wobble.

She did it.

She held the position, ignoring the applause, the cheers, the frantic energy of the crowd. She was in the moment, the only thing in her mind was the emotion she poured into the routine. Her parents' faces flashed through her mind. Their support. Her love for them. She skated back to the center of the rink, where her final pose awaited. Her chest rose and fell, the exhaustion settling in. She closed her eyes as the deafening applause flooded her ears.

Lovette's gaze darted through the stands, hoping to catch sight of him. She searched the crowded arena, her heart sinking with each passing second. No Chris. Her stomach twisted into knots, the excitement that should have filled her chest now tainted with disappointment.

She skated off the rink, her legs feeling like jelly beneath her, but the adrenaline kept her upright. As she reached the backstage area, she met her coach. Maddie pulled her into a quick hug, a proud smile on her face. Lovette's eyes immediately searched the room for her siblings, her friends, anyone who could help fill the emptiness in her chest. There they were—her family, her support system, their beaming faces greeting her, and yet, Lovette couldn't shake the feeling of something missing.

"Is Chris with you?" she asked before anyone could say anything else. The words felt too quiet, but they tumbled out before she could stop them.

Their smiles faltered. Their eyes said it all. He wasn't there.

Disappointment flared within her, sharp and biting. But then, Maddie's eyes flickered over her shoulder, and she quickly turned back to Lovette.

"I need to tell you something," Maddie said, her tone urgent.

Lovette frowned. What could possibly be so important now? "What's wrong?"

Maddie took a deep breath, as though bracing herself. "The Olympic scouts are here."

Lovette froze. What?

She could feel her pulse quicken. "Why? Why are they here?"

"I invited them," Maddie confessed, her eyes meeting Lovette's with the weight of the truth. "They were disappointed you pulled out last year, and they told me that if you ever competed again, they'd want to see you."

Lovette's jaw dropped. She gasped for air, her heart thudding in her chest. She couldn't believe it. This is real?

Maddie grabbed her shoulders, steadying her. "And they want to speak to you."

"Wait—what?" Lovette tried to comprehend the whirlwind of emotions in her mind, but everything felt dizzy. She couldn't even focus on the words that followed.

"They're in here," Maddie said, almost in a whisper, as she led Lovette to a side room that was already occupied by two people in sharp, professional clothing. They stood as the door clicked shut behind her, their posture commanding but not unkind. Lovette felt a surge of nerves. She'd been in competitions her whole life, but this felt... different.

One of the scouts, a woman with strikingly polished features and a sharp gaze, extended her hand. "Lovette, we've been watching your progress for quite some time," she said, her voice calm but filled with authority. "And based on today's performance, we'd like to extend you an invitation."

Lovette blinked, unsure if she had heard right. "An invitation?"

The second scout, a man with dark-rimmed glasses, nodded, his lips curving into a small smile. "Yes. To represent your country in the 2026 Winter Olympics."

For a moment, everything around Lovette seemed to blur. Her heart raced as the words repeated in her mind. Olympics? She had dreamed of this moment since she could remember, and now, here it was. It wasn't something she had anticipated—she hadn't even considered it when she registered for this competition.

"Wait—" Lovette's voice cracked. "You're saying... the Olympics? The 2026 Winter Games?"

"Yes," the woman replied with a soft but certain nod. "We've seen your potential, and based on your performance today, we believe you're ready to begin the qualification process. Of course, there will be more tests and competitions you'll need to complete, but this is a chance to train with the best and prove yourself on the world stage."

Lovette felt as if the ground was shifting beneath her feet. The dream she had held onto for so long was suddenly within reach. Her lips parted as she tried to find words, but they escaped her.

The scouts gave her a moment, letting the news settle in, before the man spoke again. "We'd like you to begin preparations right away. We'll get you set up with training camps, and we'll be watching you closely over the next few months."

Maddie stood back, a proud but slightly overwhelmed smile on her face, clearly waiting for Lovette to process everything.

"I... I don't even know what to say," Lovette finally managed, her voice still trembling with excitement.

"Take your time," the woman said. "You've earned this. The next step is yours."

Lovette's mind raced as the weight of the moment hit her. The 2026 Winter Olympics. It was everything she had ever dreamed of. But as quickly as the excitement flooded her, a wave of sadness followed. She turned her head, glancing back toward the crowd beyond the door, her eyes searching, hoping for one face to stand out. She wished Chris was there.

She cleared her throat, forcing herself to focus again. "I'm... I'm honoured. This is more than I could ever ask for. Thank you."

The woman smiled warmly. "You've earned it. We'll be in touch soon. We'll start the paperwork and get you set up for the next steps."

Lovette nodded, still struggling to process the reality of what had just happened. She had made it. She had a chance. But without Chris there to witness it, to celebrate with her, the victory felt incomplete.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Lovette stood on the first-place podium, a bouquet in her hands. Her smile flickered under the weight of the moment, bright enough for the cameras but dimmed by something deeper. She waved at the crowd, posed for photos with the runners-up, and murmured soft congratulations. The medal hung heavy around her neck, a tangible reminder of her victory, though it didn't feel like one.

As the rink emptied, Lovette's family and friends gathered to celebrate—everyone except Chris. Her gaze darted to the stands one last time before she joined them, an ache settling in her chest.

The early dinner passed in a blur of clinking glasses and warm laughter. Lovette tried to engage, but her thoughts circled back to her phone, to the absence of any message or call from him. Each glance at the screen made the medal on her chest feel heavier.

Back home, she dropped her bag by the door and climbed the stairs in silence. The mirror reflected a tired version of herself as she scrubbed off her makeup and freed her hair from the bun that had been pulling at her scalp all day. The ache behind her temples dulled, but the sting of his absence sharpened. Foolishly, she had thought by now, he would have reached out. He hadn't.

An hour slipped by, the quiet of her room amplifying her disappointment until it shifted into simmering anger. She tossed her phone onto the bed, determined to stop checking, but the buzzing startled her. She grabbed it quickly, heart racing, and read the messages lighting up the screen.

chris <3:
lovie i am so sorry
are you free?
i lost track of time because there was an issue with the SD cards and we had to refilm
are you at home?
i'm outside

Lovette stared at the words, her thumb hovering over the screen. With a sigh, she slipped on her hoodie and trudged downstairs, unlocking the door.

Chris stood on the porch, his face painted with regret. "I am so sorry."

Lovette leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms. "Yeah, you said that already."

"There was a problem with the SD card—"

"You said that too," she cut in, her tone sharp. Lovette sighed, before opening the front door further to let him inside.

Chris stood in the middle of the living room, his hands clenched at his sides, tension radiating off him. Lovette's arms were crossed tightly over her chest, her jaw set.

"So," Chris began cautiously, his voice tight, "I am really sorry about missing your competition."

Lovette's head snapped up, her expression a mixture of disbelief and anger. A sharp scoff escaped her lips as if he'd just sprouted three heads. "The competition?" she repeated, her voice laced with incredulity. "You think this is just about a skating competition?"

Chris blinked, caught off guard. "Well, I—"

She didn't let him finish. "No, Chris. It's not just about the competition. It's about everything. It's about the fact that you're never here when I need you."

"I'm here now," he said defensively, his brow furrowing.

"No, you're not here!" Her voice cracked, her exasperation pouring out like a dam breaking. "You're never here, Chris."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" His tone was sharper now, defensive.

Lovette stepped forward, her chest rising and falling as she struggled to contain her emotions. "It means you're always filming something. It's always filming with you! How is that supposed to make me feel? That I'm some afterthought, some stop on your way to whatever's next? You don't see how lonely it is to always come second to your work."

"That's not fair," Chris said, his voice cracking. "You know how much this career means to me. You've always known."

"And you know what else is unfair?" Lovette shot back, her voice a mix of fury and heartbreak. "The fact that I stood on that podium today, with a medal around my neck, and all I wanted was for you to be there. To share that moment with me. But you couldn't even do that, could you?"

"I said I was sorry!" Chris yelled, his frustration spilling over.

"Sorry doesn't fix this!" she shouted, her voice echoing in the quiet house. "And you know what? It doesn't even matter anymore, because they want me to go to the Olympics. The Olympics, Chris!"

Chris froze, his eyes widening in shock. "What?"

Lovette laughed bitterly, tears brimming in her eyes. "Yeah. The scouts pulled me aside after the competition. They want me to represent America in the 2026 Winter Olympics. It's everything I've ever dreamed of, Chris. And you weren't there. You missed it."

Chris stared at her, his chest heaving. "Lovette, I—"

She didn't let him finish. "Do you know how pathetic it feels to have the biggest moment of your life and realize the one person you want to celebrate with doesn't even bother to show up?" Her voice cracked, and she wiped furiously at her tears.

"I didn't not bother," Chris said desperately. "I'm trying my best to balance everything. Do you think this is easy for me? Having a relationship and trying to make my career work?"

Lovette scoffed, the sound sharp and bitter. "Balance? Is that what you call it? You've been gone more than you've been here, Chris."

Chris dragged a hand through his hair, his voice rising slightly. "I'm working, Lovette! You know what my weeks look like—three videos a week. Monday is the podcast; that's hours of recording. Then there's Wednesday and Friday—filming, brainstorming, more editing. It's not like I'm just sitting around doing nothing!"

"Exactly!" Lovette shot back, her voice trembling with anger. "You're working too much. You're constantly filming, constantly glued to your channel. And where does that leave me? I'm not even on your priority list anymore, Chris."

"That's not true," he protested, his frustration flaring. "I make time for you! I flew out here just to see you."

"See me?" she repeated with a humourless laugh. "You mean the fifteen minutes you showed up late to my front door after missing the competition? That's not time, Chris. That's a pit stop."

The words hung in the air like smoke, heavy and suffocating. Neither spoke, the weight of Lovette's accusation settling between them, vast and unbridgeable. Chris stood there, his jaw clenched, eyes dark with frustration and something else—something softer, more vulnerable.

His mind raced, grasping for something to say that could mend the cracks forming between them. How did we even get here? he thought, the echo of her words replaying in his head. He shifted on his feet, his hands twitching at his sides as though they wanted to reach for her but didn't dare. His chest tightened, a gnawing ache spreading through him.

Lovette inhaled sharply, steadying herself, and then she let the words fall, low and resolute. "I think we should break up."

Chris froze. The phrase hit him like a gut punch, leaving him momentarily breathless. His throat constricted as he tried to form a response, but all he could feel was the ground shifting beneath him.

"I don't want to lose you," Chris said, his voice hoarse, the pain in his eyes unmistakable. "I don't. You mean everything to me."

His heart hammered against his ribcage, every beat a desperate plea. Say something else, Lovette. Anything to show me there's still hope.

Lovette's breath hitched, and for a fleeting moment, Chris thought he saw a glimmer of hesitation in her tear-filled eyes. He wanted to reach out, to pull her close and promise that he'd fix everything if she'd just let him. But she shook her head, tears streaming down her face, and the ache in his chest spread like wildfire.

"I don't want to lose you either," she whispered, her voice cracking. "But... I think I lost you a while ago."

Chris felt the words pierce through him, their truth undeniable. He opened his mouth to respond, to refute her claim, but nothing came out. His shoulders slumped, his body sagging under the weight of her words.

For a moment, he stood still, the silence stretching between them. Then, slowly, he exhaled, his hands falling limp at his sides. "I can't make you stay if you don't want this anymore," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Lovette didn't respond, couldn't. She did want this.  She wanted him more than anything. Her chest felt hollow, like the wind had been knocked out of her. Chris hesitated, like he wanted to say something more, to fight harder—but then he turned, his footsteps echoing faintly as he walked away.

The door clicked shut behind him, and Lovette stood there, staring at the space where he'd been.

Sometimes, love meant letting go. Even when every fibre of her yearned to hold on, to call him back. Even when it shattered her to watch him leave. Because holding on to something that was slipping away only prolonged the inevitable.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:
i hope u don't hate me

now on to the final act!!

until next time <3