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IRL
*ੈ✩‧₊˚

↳"I'M SO PROUD OF YOU."

Chris' departure to California came and went, a month vanishing like frost under the morning sun. Lovette threw herself into maintaining their relationship, but each call left her with the nagging feeling she was grasping at shadows. Chris' laughter felt muted, his words distant, as though a part of him lingered in the world of endless content creation. She knew his life as a YouTuber—posting several times a week—was consuming. Soon, his upcoming tour would pull him even further away.

These thoughts clung to her as she strolled through the quiet, early-morning halls on her way to her computer science lab. A faint chill hung in the air, the muffled hum of distant voices barely audible. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted it: the gleam of an empty skating rink.

Her steps faltered. She glanced around, uncertain, before pushing the door open.

Inside, the space was eerily still, the glossy ice unblemished under the faint overhead lights. It smelled of cold metal and faintly of the rubber mats surrounding the rink. For a moment, Lovette simply stood there, the weight of old memories pressing against her chest.

"Good morning! Here for an early skate?"

The voice startled her. She spun around to see an older man behind the front desk, his kindly eyes framed by crow's feet and a white beard that gave him a Santa-like air.

Lovette adjusted her backpack, suddenly uneasy. "No, just...looking," she said. "Hockey practice isn't in the morning?"

He chuckled and shook his head. "Evening only. It's just us ghosts this early. You skate?"

Her stomach tightened, the word skate unleashing a flood of memories. "I used to," she said, her tone clipped.

Before he could ask more, she forced a polite smile. "Sorry, I've got a lab to get to. Nice meeting you!"

She left quickly, the sound of the door shutting behind her like a punctuation mark.

From then on, she passed the rink daily, her gaze lingering on its doors, her feet itching to step inside. But she always forced herself forward. She didn't notice the older gentleman watching her from behind the front desk, his expression knowing but kind.

It wasn't until three weeks later, after yet another session with Dr. Florence, that Lovette decided to bring her skates. The therapist's words—"It's okay to let yourself feel again"—echoed in her mind as she approached the rink with hesitant steps, her skating bag like a lead weight on her shoulder.

"You're back!" A voice greeted her warmly.

Lovette let out a nervous laugh. "I'm back."

"I wondered how long it would take," he said with a soft smile. "If you need anything, just holler. I'm Arthur."

"Thanks," she replied, offering a small smile. "I'm Lovette."

Arthur returned to the desk, giving her space, while Lovette set her bag down and began stretching. The routine felt foreign at first—muscles stiff, movements deliberate—but her body remembered. Soon, she was lacing up her skates, tightening her ponytail, and stepping onto the ice.

The cold bite of the rink seeped through her skates as she took her first glide. Tentatively at first, then with more confidence, her legs moved in sync with the flow of the ice. She picked up speed, her blades carving crisp lines across the surface. The air around her felt sharper, cleaner, as though it sliced through the fog in her mind.

A tentative spin turned into a graceful pirouette. Then a jump, the familiar rush of adrenaline as her body left the ground, her arms and legs working in perfect harmony to land cleanly. Lovette's heart raced—not from exertion, but from the thrill of it. Muscle memory carried her through sequences she hadn't dared attempt since the accident. A double toe loop. A triple Salchow. Each success chipped away at the weight she'd carried for so long.

For the first time in over a year, she felt free. The ice didn't demand explanations or apologies; it simply allowed her to be. She forgot the clock, her next class, and even Chris as she lost herself in the rhythm of her movements. When she finally skated to a stop, her breath came in clouds.

Arthur met her at the edge of the rink. "You're quite the skater," he said, his voice gentle but admiring. "Talented. I hope to see you in here again."

He did. Every Tuesday morning, Lovette returned, her confidence growing with each session. Arthur eventually gave her access to the rink's speakers, and the space filled with the swell of music and her skates' crisp whispers against the ice.

One morning, she stood at the center of the rink, her heart pounding as she prepared for a triple axel. The move had once been second nature, but now, it loomed like a mountain. She steadied her breathing, visualizing every step: the approach, the takeoff, the rotation.

And then she leapt.

For a moment, the world slowed. The ice beneath her disappeared, replaced by the exhilarating weightlessness of flight. When her blades met the ice again, the sound was like thunder, echoing through the empty rink.

Lovette laughed—a sound that echoed, pure and unrestrained. For the first time, she felt whole again. Her laughter was clear and full of life until it was joined by another sound: the faint scrape of skates cutting into the ice. Her gaze snapped toward the source, her breath hitching as a figure glided effortlessly toward her.

"When Arthur said you were good, I thought he was just being polite," the woman called out, her voice carrying across the cold expanse. "But Jesus, you pulled off a triple axel like it was nothing."

The woman drew closer, her long, jet-black hair flowing behind her like a dark ribbon. Up close, Lovette could see she was likely in her early thirties, her sharp features softened by the faintest hint of a smile.

"I'm Cassie," the woman said, holding out a hand. "Head of the figure skating club here at MIT."

Lovette hesitated before shaking it, her palm cold from the ice. "Nice to meet you. I'm—"

"Lovette." Cassie's grin widened as she interrupted. "I know. Arthur's been singing your praises. I thought he was exaggerating, but after seeing you land that axel? Not so much. Do you compete?"

The question lingered in the air, heavier than it should have been. Compete. Lovette's chest tightened, the word pulling memories to the surface like a hook snagging a sunken net. The roar of the crowd, the bright lights reflecting off the ice, her parents' faces in the stands. And then—the silence. The pain.

She managed to force a response. "I haven't competed in a year."

Cassie's expression didn't waver. If anything, her dark eyes sharpened, searching Lovette's face for something unsaid. "You up for it?"

The bluntness of the question startled Lovette. Cassie wasn't one for tiptoeing around. "There's an intercollegiate competition happening in two weeks," Cassie continued. "I think if you enter, you'd take the whole thing."

The statement hung in the chilly air, as audacious as the woman who had spoken it. Lovette's thoughts whirled. The words you'd take the whole thing echoed, igniting an ache in her chest she hadn't felt in a long time. It was a mix of longing and fear—a pull toward something she had loved, and a push away from the shadows that had haunted her since.

Cassie must have sensed the conflict because she raised a hand in surrender, her tone softening. "It's up to you. No pressure." She turned on her blades, the fluidity of her movements mesmerizing as she began to skate away.

The regret hit Lovette almost immediately, a sharp, insistent pang that made her stomach twist. Her body moved before her mind caught up, propelling her forward with quick, precise strokes. She cut in front of Cassie, skidding to a stop so smoothly that the ice hissed beneath her.

"I'll do it," she said, breathless but resolute.

A grin spread across Cassie's face, wide and triumphant, like she had expected nothing less. "Great. Come with me."

Cassie motioned toward the rink's edge, already heading off without looking back. Lovette hesitated for a moment before following, her heart pounding harder with each step. She didn't know if it was adrenaline or nerves—or maybe both—but something told her she'd just set herself on a path she couldn't turn back from.

And for the first time in a long time, that thought didn't scare her. It thrilled her.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

After registering for the competition, Lovette's fingers hovered over her phone screen, her thumb grazing the call button. Chris's name stared back at her, almost daring her to press it. She scrolled up, her eyes catching the thread of their recent messages—short, clipped responses, each one leaving a bitter taste. Filming now, talk later. That was hours ago.

She sighed, her breath fogging up the cold car window. Her chest tightened as she stared at the empty seat beside her, a painful reminder of how long it had been since she'd felt really close to him. Still, she wanted him to be the first to know, even if a part of her braced for disappointment.

The ringing felt louder than usual, each tone clawing at her nerves. Lovette drummed her fingers against the steering wheel, her other hand gripping the phone so tightly. She had begun solving Calculus questions in her head to ease her nerves. When the ringing abruptly cut off, she froze, bracing herself for voicemail.

"Hey, Lovie," Chris's voice spilled through the line, warm and easy, as if the distance between them didn't exist. "I was just thinking about you."

Lovette blinked, the tension in her shoulders easing. Relief coursed through her, even as her mind tried to convince her not to read too much into it.

"Hi," she said softly, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "I wanted to tell you something... I didn't want to just text."

There was a brief pause before Chris hummed, his tone inviting her to go on.

For a moment, she just sat there, clutching the phone as the weight of what she'd done—what she'd agreed to—settled in. Her reflection in the rearview mirror caught her eye, her lips parted like she was still searching for the right words.

"I'm competing," she blurted out, her words rushing together like she was afraid she'd lose her nerve if she didn't say it fast enough. "In a skating competition. It's intercollegiate, so I'm competing against students in other colleges, it's in two weeks."

Chris's silence on the other end made her stomach twist. She bit her lip, regretting the suddenness of her delivery.

"No way!" His voice burst through, filled with so much excitement it made her jump. "Lovie, that's huge! Oh my God, I'm so proud of you!"

Her heart swelled, the warmth in his voice dissolving the lingering resentment she didn't even realize she was still carrying.

"You are?" she asked, her voice small.

"Of course I am! You've been through so much, and now you're competing again. That's incredible, Lovie." There was a rustling sound in the background, like he was pacing. "When is it? Two weeks, right?"

"Yeah," she said, her smile growing.

"I'm gonna be there."

His words were so definitive, so certain, that she froze. "Really?" she asked, her voice trembling with disbelief.

"Lovie, the world would have to end before I missed out on your big moment."

Her chest tightened in a way that wasn't painful for once. She swallowed hard, her voice barely a whisper. "You mean that?"

"Absolutely," he said without hesitation. "I'll be there. Front row. You'll look out and see me cheering like a maniac. No way I'm missing this."

Lovette let out a laugh, a real one, her earlier doubts and fears melting away. "You're ridiculous."

"And you're amazing," Chris shot back. "Seriously, Lovie, I can't wait to see you out there. You're going to kill it."

For the first time in months, Lovette let herself believe it, the weight she'd been carrying lightening as his excitement wrapped around her like a warm embrace.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:
wow long overdue update

i am sooo sorry that i haven't updated in like 9 months, i was super busy with my studies and then i was exhausted from university

but there are 3 more chapters and then act two will be finished! then we will enter the final act of the fic

thank you to anyone who is still reading this book even after i neglected it

until next time <3!