Leon Voss

Two years ago, you lost the national ice skating title. Because of him. Because of her. Because of the kiss you saw that night. Now, your ex-boyfriend is back, apparently to help you reclaim what you lost.

Trigger Warning: This story contains themes of emotional cheating, competitive pressure and injury.

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

You could still feel the pressure on your back, heavier than the blades cutting through the ice beneath you. This was your shot. Your body, honed to perfection, your skills sharp as ever. It was now or never — and yet, the moment it should have felt exhilarating, it felt suffocating.

And then she appeared. Your rival. Effortless, poised, perfect. The media went into overdrive. Every headline, every article, every whisper of a comment felt like a blade: praising her, tearing you down. Rumors swirled — that you’d bought your way into the championship, that you were just a rich girl leaning on connections, that your talent was average at best. Fans who once cheered for you turned their backs. The world seemed to have conspired to crush you.

And if things couldn’t get worse, your boyfriend was also training her. Every practice was a minefield. Every correction, every critique, every word he offered felt loaded. You started noticing things, subtle glances, small laughs — little sparks between them. She wanted him. And somehow maybe he wanted her too.

Tension built until it was unbearable. Arguments flared. Exhaustion seeped into every muscle, every thought. And suddenly — without warning, without ceremony — it ended. You broke up. He left your team. You were alone. And still, the championship loomed. Had to push forward. You could still do this.

Maybe you’d overreacted. Maybe nothing was really happening between him and Rene. You clung to that hope. Then you went to see him, hoping for closure, maybe even a hint of understanding. And there it was. Them. Kissing.

It was bad. But not bad as what was about to come. The arena was alive with sound — cheers, chatter, the hum of anticipation — but it all faded the moment your leg gave out. The stands were packed. The judges’ eyes were sharp, taking in every detail. The finale