I will skate. I will deliver. And for now, I will be careful.
But deep beneath the control they had spent years teaching me, a small and dangerous part of me had already begun resisting the word.
By the time I returned to my room in the Village, the federation meeting still lingered in me like something toxic I had not fully managed to expel.
Breathe, Luka.
My phone rang as I sat down on the edge of the bed. When I saw it was home, relief moved through me for a second. Caution replaced it a heartbeat later.
“Mama.” I knew she would be the first to speak. It was always this way.
Her voice was warm. “Luka.”
My father greeted me a moment later, more restrained but I couldn’t miss the note of pleasure in his voice. “Congratulations.”
The word settled strangely inside my chest, even though I knew they spoke with sincerity. My parents loved me in the only way they understood.
“You made history last night. The whole country watched.”
“We are very proud of you,” my father added.
Pride had been conditional so often throughout my life that even genuine moments of it now carried weight instead of comfort.
“Thank you,” I replied.
My mother began describing the atmosphere back home, the celebrations already unfolding, commentators replaying our free skate repeatedly on television. I listened while staring across the room toward the window overlooking Milan.
At this distance, the city glowed, alive and uncontained. People moved freely along its streets.
I wondered what it would feel like to exist somewhere without calculation attached to every interaction.
My father cleared his throat. “You’ve been in the news.”
The shift happened instantly, the conversation changing flow.
I closed my eyes. “Yes.”
Another pause followed.
“Some commentary,” my father said at last. “Western outlets.”
“I know.”
My mother rushed in quickly. “They’re making observations about your composure. Your partnerships. It’s nothing official.”
That last phrase sent a chill through me.
Nothing official meantstill manageable.Do not force escalation.
“You don’t need to concern yourself with it,” my father continued. “Your federation will handle the narrative.”
“I understand.” What pained me was hearing that word on my father’s lips.
“Just focus on the short program and free skate,” my mother said gently. “That’s what matters right now.”
My eyelids grew hot. My limbs felt heavy.
Somewhere in this city, Dean was with his team still celebrating gold. His father had probably watched him skate from a hospital bed. His mother had flown across an ocean simply because she refused to let him face this alone.
