Aria stood in the middle of her room, staring at the suitcase she had packed with careful precision. Skating tights, her old training jacket, the laces of her boots wound neatly, as if they hadn't been collecting dust in the back of her wardrobe for years. Her heart thudded in anticipation.
Today wasn't a competition. Today wasn't even an official training session. But today was the day she would step back onto the ice after years of being told it was impossible.
A knock sounded at the door. "Aria?" Henry's voice came, firm but gentle.
She inhaled. "Come in."
Henry entered, carrying a tray—tea, toast, and a bowl of fruit. "You didn't come down for breakfast," he said, setting it on the desk. His sharp eyes studied her suitcase. "Going somewhere?"
Her lips parted, a mix of nerves and excitement bubbling inside her. "Not far. Just… to the rink."
His brows arched. "The rink?"
"Yes." She nodded quickly, her fingers curling together. "I saw Dr. Lawrence yesterday. He said my leg has healed much more than expected. That it might even be possible to skate professionally again. I want to try."
Henry's expression was unreadable. For a moment, silence stretched between them. Then he let out a breath, crossing his arms. "So that's what this is."
"Don't look at me like that," Aria said softly, almost defensive. "This is the first time in years that a doctor has told me something hopeful. I can't just ignore it."
He studied her closely, and she wondered if he was going to lecture her, remind her of the risks, warn her about disappointment. Instead, he walked to the bed and sat down, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "Tell me everything he said."
Aria's eyes brightened as she moved to sit across from him. "He said that my muscles regained strength. That the therapy I've been doing, even unknowingly, has built resilience. There's no guarantee, of course. But he said… if I train carefully, if I listen to my body… there's a real chance I can perform again."
For a heartbeat, Henry only looked at her. Then he smiled faintly, though it was lined with something deeper—concern, admiration, fear. "You're serious about this."
"I am." Her voice shook but held steady determination. "Skating was the only part of me that was mine. Everything else—my family, their rules, their expectations—was controlled. But on the ice… I could breathe. I could be myself. I lost that once. I don't want to lose it again."
Henry leaned back, exhaling. "You've changed. The Aria I met wouldn't have said this."
Her lips curved in the smallest of smiles. "The Aria you met didn't know she was allowed to want anything."
That silenced him for a moment. He rubbed his jaw, then stood and walked to the window. "So… what exactly are you planning today?"
"Just a test. To feel the ice under my feet again." She hesitated, then added, "Would you… come with me?"
He turned sharply, almost startled. "You want me there?"
"Yes." Her voice was quiet but firm. "I want you to see it. Even if I fall. Even if it doesn't work. I want you to be the first to know."
Henry's throat bobbed as he swallowed. Then, with the faintest smile tugging at his lips, he said, "Then let's go."
---
The rink smelled faintly of cold and echoes. Young skaters twirled, laughed, stumbled, their coaches shouting instructions.
Aria clutched her bag like it was armor. Her palms were sweating. After years, its not for fun, for professional try.
"Breathe," Henry murmured beside her, his voice low, grounding.
She nodded, inhaling deeply.
In the locker area, she sat down to lace her skates. Her fingers trembled, but the action was muscle memory, each pull of the laces grounding her back into the person she used to be. She felt Henry's gaze on her, sharp and watchful.
"Don't look at me like I'm about to break," she muttered.
"I'm not," Henry said calmly. "I'm looking at you like someone who's about to do something extraordinary."
Her heart thumped. She kept her eyes on her laces, cheeks warming.
When she finally stepped onto the ice, the cold shot up her ankles, into her chest. She froze at first, the rink wide and daunting. The weight of years pressed against her shoulders.
Henry leaned against the railing, arms crossed, watching.
Aria pushed forward tentatively, the glide shaky but familiar. A gasp escaped her lips—it felt the same, yet different, like meeting an old friend after years apart.
She circled slowly, testing her balance, the strength in her leg. Each movement reminded her of who she used to be. And then—she tried a spin. The first turn was clumsy, her leg wobbling, but she managed it.
When she stopped, breathless, she looked to Henry.
He clapped—slow, deliberate, a rare grin tugging at his lips. "You didn't fall."
"I almost did," she said, laughing breathlessly.
"But you didn't," he countered.
She skated closer to the edge, gripping the railing where he stood. Their eyes locked.
"Henry," she whispered, her throat tight. "I feel alive again."
Something in his expression shifted—softened. "Good. Then keep going."
After an hour of cautious practice, Aria changed back into her boots. She was exhausted, every muscle aching, but her face glowed. Henry carried her bag without asking, guiding her outside where the cool air greeted them.
In the car, silence stretched until Henry finally spoke. "You were radiant out there."
Her heart fluttered. "Radiant?"
"Yes." He glanced at her briefly. "Not because of the skating itself, though you were good. But because… for once, you weren't carrying the weight of the world. You were free."
Aria's throat tightened. She turned to him, voice soft. "Why are you being so kind to me?"
His grip on the steering wheel tightened. "Because I've been cruel enough already."
She swallowed. "Henry…"
He exhaled sharply, his voice dropping lower. "Do you know what I thought of you when we first met? I thought you were just like every other woman who came near me. I let myself believe you were using me. That's why I—" He cut himself off.
Aria's heart ached. "And now?"
"Now…" He hesitated, his jaw clenching, before finally admitting, "Now I see someone who just wants a life of her own. Someone braver than I gave her credit for. And I hate myself for not seeing it sooner."
Her chest rose and fell quickly, words stuck in her throat.
The car stopped at the estate. Neither moved to get out.
"I don't know what this means for us," Henry said, his eyes fixed on hers, raw and unguarded. "But today I realized something: I don't want to lose you."
Her breath caught. For a long moment, silence filled the car. Then, slowly, she reached out, her fingers brushing his hand on the gearshift.
"Then don't," she whispered.
His hand turned, clasping hers firmly.
---
At the morning, they sat in the garden with tea between them. Aria sighed, her legs aching pleasantly. "I'll need a trainer. Someone who understands my injury and my limits. But if I can build strength gradually, maybe a comeback isn't impossible."
Henry sipped his tea, studying her. "If you want it, I'll make sure you have the best coaches, the best facilities. Whatever you need."
Her brows furrowed. "I don't want you to think you owe me this."
"It's not about owing," he said quietly. "It's about wanting to see you shine."
Her lips parted, heart swelling with an emotion she couldn't name. She looked down, blinking hard. "You're different tonight."
"Maybe I'm finally honest," he admitted.
Their gazes met, lingering, unspoken words hanging between them.