Chapter 7
366words
For two solid weeks, I barricaded myself in my room, curtains drawn tight, refusing all contact.
But I forced myself to adjust.
I might be broken, but I refused to be defeated.
They say athletes have a prime, but who could say mine was already over?
It was just a three-year ban, right?
Only three years.
I was still young. I could still return to competition.
I threw myself back into training, more ferociously than ever.
Then came that fateful day.
The day I learned of their championship victory.
I stormed into the training rink like a woman possessed.
Triple jumps, quad jumps, combinations—I jumped and jumped as if my life depended on it.
My coach was absent. I was completely alone.
My mind held just one thought.
I needed to be stronger. Better than them.
When I landed that final quad, I heard a sickening snap from my ankle.
The old injury combined with the high-impact landing caused permanent damage.
The doctor was blunt: forget competing again; normal walking would be the best-case scenario.
To achieve even that modest goal required six surgeries.
Each time on the operating table, I told myself it would be the last, that everything would be fine afterward.
But as the anesthesia wore off, I'd face yet another grueling recovery.
Rehab was hell.
Approaching the rehab center, I'd hear agonized screams from down the hall.
Before each session, I'd need several minutes of mental preparation just to walk through the door.
Even with my iron will, I broke down sobbing multiple times.
The surgeries had already cost my family a fortune.
My parents should have been enjoying retirement, but instead had to rejoin the workforce.
With no relevant work experience, they started at the bottom.
Dad became a rideshare driver, leaving before dawn and returning after dark, his herniated disc worsening daily. Mom delivered food through all weather, her hands developing painful chilblains.
I experienced a family warmth I hadn't felt in years.
They never complained, and I worked hard to maintain our façade of a happy family.
Lucas Lane's name became taboo in our home.
No one mentioned him. No one asked.
