I stared ahead and thought about every sacrifice that had brought me here. Every interview where I lied. Every hand I shook. Every official smile.
Every warning spoken softly enough to sound like concern.
Next to me, Mila shifted enough that our sleeves brushed, and I realized she was watching me, as if she’d been waiting for this moment.
For what came next.
My chest tightened.
She knows.
Maybe she had always known.
The anthem finished, and the applause swelled, rolled, crested, until at last it began to thin. Medals glinted under the lights. I stood on the second step of the podium, my shoulders square, my expression composed…
My heart hammering now.
I didn’t look at the crowd, but at Mila.
She gave me a small nod.
I sucked in a deep breath, then stepped down from the podium, taking my time.
A murmur rippled through the crowd as I veered off from the designated route and headed toward the boards, towards the American team.
An official called after me. I kept walking.
Confusion rolled through the arena almost immediately. I could hear it spreading section by section, people standing, pointing, trying to understand what they were seeing.
Ahead of me, Dean had gone completely still.
The closer I got, the louder the noise became.
“Where’s he going?”
“Who’s he heading for?”
“Wait...”
Someone near the boards gasped.
Dean straightened, and I watched as his expression went from confusion to stunned realization. His eyes widened.
I smiled, and I knew when it finally hit him.
Yes, Dean. I’m coming for you.
And suddenly the atmosphere changed.
It was impossible to pinpoint the exact second it happened, but realization moved through the crowd like a wave gathering strength. People were rising to their feet. Phones appeared everywhere. Cameras followed me, their operators scrambling to keep up.
A roar began building somewhere high in the stands, and I could almost taste the anticipation in the air.
“Oh my God.”
“No way.”
“He’s going to?—”
