Chapter 10
390words
Once, while grocery shopping, I encountered a familiar face among the aisles.
She froze upon seeing me, then cautiously approached.
"You're Coach Shaw's daughter, aren't you?"
"My child trained with your father briefly."
"The Starlight Club manipulated us. They promised free training if we joined the outcry. We were just trying to save money, so we…"
"We soon realized we'd been duped. Their coaches couldn't care less—just let kids skate aimlessly. After six months, my child learned nothing."
"I'm so sorry. If we'd known how it would end, we'd never have participated, no matter what."
I remained silent before finally nodding.
She rambled on, mostly praising my father's dedication, patience, and teaching skill.
As she spoke, my mind filled with images of my father standing rinkside.
He truly was an exceptional coach.
He tracked every student's progress and weaknesses meticulously. He noticed which skates needed sharpening or which pads needed replacing before parents ever did.
Back then, Lucas was sickly, falling ill frequently.
Dad invited Lucas to live with us.
When Mom made chicken soup, the first bowl always went to Lucas—"You're too skinny, you need the nutrition."
Once when Lucas developed a high fever in the middle of the night, Dad carried him to the hospital without hesitation, keeping vigil in the ER hallway until morning.
Dad truly raised Lucas as his own son.
Who could have imagined our greatest betrayal would come from him?
After encountering Lucas, I lay awake thinking for hours.
Did I hate Lucas Lane?
I'd asked myself this question countless times.
I had hated him. Of course I had.
During those sleepless nights and agonizing days, I'd wished him dead.
But now, I realized I didn't hate him as much.
I'd seen only his actions, not his predicament.
His dream matched mine—to stand atop that highest podium.
But during that critical period, my performance was unstable. As his partner, my mistakes could have cost him everything.
He couldn't afford to lose.
He wanted victory too desperately.
A drowning man doesn't care if the lifeline is dirty.
I didn't hate him.
But I wouldn't forgive him either.
I didn't wish for karma or divine retribution.
I wanted to watch him fall from grace with my own eyes—and help push him into hell.
