My pulse stumbled hard enough to irritate me. I hadn’t expected to see him there.
I should leave.
I remained exactly where I was.
Dean looked up, and his gaze met mine.
The smile appeared before I could prepare for it.
He skated toward me. “Hey.” His voice was warm, his gaze direct.
I inclined my head. “Foster.”
A faint smile touched his lips. “Davorin.”
The formality should have restored distance.
It failed completely.
Dean glanced toward the speakers. “This is yours, right?”
“Yes.”
“I think they’re testing audio levels before medal ceremonies.”
My chest tightened, the reaction immediate. “Then I hope to hear it again under different circumstances.”
His smile softened. “Yeah. Me too.”
The anthem continued around us, steady and restrained,carrying none of the aggressive triumph many countries built into theirs.
Dean listened another moment before speaking again.
“It’s different than I expected.”
“What did you expect?”
He shrugged. “Louder, maybe. More performative.”
I shook my head. “It is not written for performance.”
That held his attention immediately.
I raised my chin. “It is written to endure.”
Dean looked at me more carefully after that, studying my face with the same focused attention that had become increasingly dangerous over the past few days.
“What does it mean?”
There was an official explanation for that question. I knew it by heart.
I ignored it.
“It speaks about endurance,” I said slowly, translating in my head before speaking aloud. “Continuing forward because stopping is not an option.”
Dean stayed silent, waiting.
“There is also a line about remaining where you are placed, even if you did not choose that place yourself.”
