Luka swallowed.
“I represented my country tonight.” His voice shook a little before steadying. “I have represented my country my entire life.”
The mixed zone fell quieter.
“That has not changed.” He glanced at me. “This changes nothing about my medals.” He took a breath. “It changes nothing about who I am. The only difference is that now I’m done pretending.”
The crowd exploded into a wave of noise, sharp and immediate. I saw more phones lifted everywhere around us while people shouted questions over each other as security failed to contain the chaos spreading through the mixed zone.
Beyond the barriers, pride flags had appeared, small ones mostly, waved by spectators crushed shoulder to shoulder near the exits, faces shining with excitement, disbelief, and joy.
I looked at Luka again, and he reached across the narrow space separating us with no trace of hesitation. I caught his hand, and our fingers locked together in full view of every camera pointed at us.
No more hiding now.
Flashbulbs detonated around us while reporters shouted louder,and somewhere behind the crowd someone started chanting our names.
I barely heard any of it.
Luka’s fingers tightened around mine.
Then, somewhere beyond the wall of reporters, I heard someone shouting his name.
Not a fan, but an official.
The sound barely registered.
Luka didn’t let go.
Luka
“Mila, where are you taking us?”
She said nothing but tugged my hand, leading me through the maze of corridors, away from the mixed zone, from the noise and bustle. Dean followed behind me, and somewhere along the route we’d lost his coach.
Mila stopped in front of a door. “In here.” She pushed it open, then stepped aside for Dean and I.
It was a small room that felt even smaller after the chaos we’d just left. It seemed to be some temporary space thrown together for athletes, nothing but white walls, folding chairs, and a plastic table crowded with abandoned water bottles and towels. The door shut behind us with a mutedclick, and the noise of the arena vanished so abruptly my ears rang in the silence that followed.
Dean dropped back against the wall and slid down onto the floor as though his legs had finally given out on him. Then he laughed under his breath, the sound rough and unsteady with disbelief.
“Holy shit.”
I stayed where I was near the center of the room, my medalhanging against my chest while adrenaline still tore through my bloodstream hard enough to make my hands shake. Years of training had taught me how to survive mixed zones.
None of those skills seemed particularly useful tonight.
Mila set my bag down beside one of the chairs before turning toward us. She looked at Dean first, then at me.
“You did it,” she murmured, as if she still couldn’t quite believe it herself. “Bože, Luka. You actually did it.”
My throat tightened, and I swallowed hard. “I think I might be in shock.”
Dean scrambled to his feet and crossed the room, stopping close enough to me that the whole night suddenly became real again.
“Hey,” he said, his voice whisper soft. “Are you okay?”
I nodded automatically before panic surged hard enough to stop the motion halfway through. “No.” My voice cracked. “Stay.”
