“Just keep moving.”
We reach the final segment of the maze just as the sun begins dipping lower over the stadium rim. The long shadows cast by the upper platforms make the remaining path harder to read.
I study the timing carefully.
“Wait.”
Bron stops immediately.
A section of walkway collapses ahead.
Another rotates sideways.
Then the final bridge locks into place.
“Go.”
We sprint across together.
The finish platform looms ahead.
Behind us the last few couples scramble desperately through the collapsing maze.
Bron reaches the platform first and turns to offer me a hand across the final gap.
I take it.
The contact is brief but steady.
We step onto the finish marker together.
The horn blasts.
The scoreboard flickers to life above the arena.
Our names appear near the top.
Advancing again.
The crowd roars.
Bron exhales and shakes his head slightly.
“Well,” he says.
“That worked.”
“Yes,” I reply.
He studies me for a moment.
“You trusted me.”
“I trusted the plan.”
“Still counts.”
Maybe it does.
