I looked away. Heat crept up the back of my neck.
Beneath the fear, beneath the panic and confusion and everything else, there was something I hadn’t wanted to examine too closely.
Hope.
That was answer enough.
She said nothing for a moment, and then she straightened in her chair.
“We have four days before the Team Event.”
I already disliked where this was heading. “Mila?—”
“We train. We keep our heads down. We do not hand anyone a reason to start asking questions before competition.”
“You mean I go back to pretending.”
“I mean we survive long enough to skate.”
The words hit hard because they were true.
She leaned forward again, her eyes fixed firmly on mine now.
“I’m not telling you not to see him. I’m telling you to understand the risk before you decide he’s worth it.”
My pulse raced.
“And what if he is?”
Mila held my gaze for several long seconds. “Then this stops being theoretical.”
People laughed nearby. Cups clinked against saucers. Somebody near the counter dropped a spoon.
None of it reached me. The rest of the café seemed very far away.
Then Mila spoke again, more carefully this time. “You’re already making decisions.”
I frowned. “About what?”
“About how much of this you’re willing to risk.”
The answer rose immediately. I didn’t give it.
Mila watched me for a moment.
“You keep talking as though you’re standing at the beginning of something,” she said quietly. “But you’re not.”
I looked away, but she tightened her grip on my hand, pulling me back to her.
“You think this is still a question of whether you should walk toward him.”
Her gaze remained steady. “Luka, you’ve been doing that for days.”
The café noise faded into the background.
I stared at my coffee. I couldn’t argue with her.
Every opportunity to create distance had somehow become another conversation,
