Chapter 25
The day came when Alisa performed her short program. She was shaking all over before going out onto the ice.
She started jumping on two legs, waving her arms as much as she could, trying to distract herself from obsessive thoughts, while in her mind she tried to imagine skating her program perfectly.
The coach entered the room.
He put his hands on her shoulders, and Alisa stopped jumping, coming out of the trance where she had already skated the program cleanly in her head and had already won the highest scores of the day.
She swallowed nervously, trying to calm her heart that was beating wildly; her hands were shaking mercilessly. Arkadiy took them in his, beginning to calm her, stroking her knuckles with his big fingers.
“Alisa, look at me.”
She looked, trying not to burst into tears from fear.
“You can do it, do you hear me? You’ll skate this program perfectly, you’ll perform all your elements and jumps. You’re ready, you’ve been training for this for so long. It’s your time to shine. You’re our ice star. Go out there and show everyone that you are the champion of Russia.”
And then she felt it, I was at the Olympics, damn it, and I was about to perform.
She had to go out there and skate perfectly, because Arkadiy had put so much training and effort into her.
For the sake of her coach, for the sake of the team, for the sake of her country, she had to win, even when the whole world was looking at her team with hatred.
She took a deep breath.
Exhaled.
And turned around, following the volunteer organizers whose jackets were labeled Volunteer – Italy – Milano – Olympics 2026.
“Warm-up: six minutes! Group A.”
Then the competitors began taking the ice one by one.
And then—
No…
No, what is she doing here?!
Alisa froze as Tora stepped onto the ice.
She couldn’t have messed up the timing of the event.
She simply couldn’t have.
Anger rose inside Alisa, growing into something like an Armageddon, ready to destroy everything in its path.
Tora still didn’t look in Alisa’s direction; instead, she continued in her own world, practicing her elements for the short program—the single program.
The fucking single program.
Was she really performing here today, competing with me in my own group?
The universe had a cruel sense of humor, didn’t it? Alisa clenched her jaw so hard she felt pain on both sides. She didn’t just want to destroy everything in the arena, the entire ice surface, she wanted to raze the place to the ground.
How could she?
Alisa didn’t take her eyes off Tora.
Eyes off her girlfriend who had betrayed her, who had kept silent about the fact that they would be competing against each other. That they would be in the same category.
Did she hate me so much that she chose to compete for a medal in the only category where I could win one this year?
Alisa’s heart broke inside; the world exploded and shattered into atoms, as if the earth itself had been reduced to ashes. Nothing remained in Alisa’s heart anymore, there were only anger and sadness for the way life had treated her.
Alisa began to enter a quadruple toe loop, jumping very close to Tora.
She took off, completing the necessary rotations, and landed so close to Tora that her leg was just a couple of centimeters from Tora’s face as she finished the landing and rode out of the jump, causing the entire arena to gasp and people to rise from their seats.
There they were. The rivals on the ice had returned to their positions again…
Tora managed to dodge and drop down slightly, bending forward, then stopped and stared at Alisa. She remained silent, just looking at her with an expression of frustration, sadness, and regret.
“Why are you here, Tora?” Alisa hissed, her voice trembling with anger.
“I’m competing in this category, so I’m here.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Alisa’s voice was so broken that Tora wanted to cry and leave, but she couldn’t back down. She closed her eyes for a moment, forcing herself to focus, preventing her emotions from taking control of her body.
“Do you want to steal this medal from me too? The one I’ve been dreaming of? You already have gold in pairs, are you fucking kidding me?!” Alisa raised her voice, and the skaters around them stopped to watch the drama unfolding on the ice. “You already have gold in pairs, what more do you need?!”
Alisa was furious, but Tora didn’t say anything.
Instead, she turned away and continued practicing in silence.
The entire arena felt tense, and the judge’s voice echoed through the microphone, announcing that it was forbidden to talk on the ice and that the skaters must remain silent or risk disqualification.
“Poshla nahui, Tora. Ya nenavizhy tebya.,”15 Alisa hissed to herself in Russian through gritted teeth. She clenched her jaw so hard it ached, and although she wanted to cry, now was not the time to give in to emotions.
So she held herself together, jaw tight with pain, and as she entered a camel position, a tear slipped down her cheek, but at that speed, the wind created by her spin wiped it away, as if erasing the evidence of her breakdown.
Alisa felt utterly disappointed in everything, as if she had been betrayed by life itself, and she didn’t know how to respond properly. She hated everything. She hated everyone.
The anger kept rising inside her more and more.
“Last minute warm-up,” the judge’s voice announced.
Alisa exhaled as she came out of the spin and went into another jump, landing it cleanly again. Then she moved forward, lifting her leg high in front of Tora, the blade catching the spotlight as it sliced through the air beside her like a warning, like a threat.
Her eyes locked onto Tora with something almost murderous in focus.
She would destroy her today. To hell with everything.
* * *
Alisa was left alone on the ice, not even looking in the direction of Tora, who had already disappeared behind the arena. With a blank expression and no smile, she skated toward the center of the rink where her short program would begin.
And then, as if the universe was mocking her, the music started. Alisa surrendered immediately to the emotion that swallowed her whole, burning through her from the inside out.
‘Change by Deftones’ began to play, the deep pulse of the guitar filling the arena, and Alisa began her performance.
She bowed her head and glided forward on one blade, knee softly bent, her upper body folding into the movement before she lifted her head back and closed her eyes, covering them briefly with both hands as if trying to block out the world.
Then she rose into a clean line, opening her arm across the ice as if pointing through the arena itself, and continued forward on a deep edge, turning sharply on one foot, her free leg and arms lifting together in a wing-like motion that cut through the air.
She entered a twizzle, hands briefly covering her face, then transitioned into quick back steps, rotating lightly on her axis, building speed. The first jump came fast, her opening quadruple salchow.
She rotated fully, but the landing broke beneath her. She fell.
A sharp gasp swept through the arena, but Alisa did not stop. She snapped back up instantly, driven by adrenaline, mostly anger, and something dangerously close to defiance, before pushing backward into her next sequence.
She launched into her next element: a quadruple toe loop, landing solidly on one foot. Without hesitation, she flowed directly into another quad toe loop, the program turning into pure momentum with no time to think, just feel.
She rose into a spinning position next, centered and controlled, rotating into a Bielmann variation, perfectly aligned with the music’s darker pulse. The spin tightened, then softened, and then shifted again as she held control through exhaustion and emotion.
When she stopped, it felt like a break in reality.
She stepped out, breath heavy, and re-entered the choreography.
This time her skating became more expressive with deeper edges, stronger lines, her arms rising above her head as if claiming the ice itself.
Her gaze lifted toward the judges, serious and unflinching, as if declaring without words that she would not break here.
Then came the Axel.
Her least stable jump and her most feared one.
She entered it anyway. And instead of hesitation, there was only commitment, rotation snapping tight in the air, landing held under pressure, controlled through sheer force of will. She absorbed it and continued immediately, not allowing the moment to linger.
The program expanded once again into flowing movement with spirals and extensions.
She spread her legs into a spread eagle, but instead of rising, she dropped into a deep back arch that skimmed the ice — a cantilever element, her back curved dramatically and her stretched fingertips almost brushing the surface as she glided across the arena.
Then spins returned, but faster now, more fragmented and more emotional. A camel variation into a seated spin, then back up into a high position, transitioning fluidly through difficult positions to a needle spin.
Step sequences followed, blades slicing precise patterns across the ice sharply with precision. She moved like she was trying to outrun something inside herself, the choreography becoming more urgent.
And then the final passage.
A final surge of jumps—quadruple elements stacked into exhaustion, each one landing under visible strain but still controlled enough to survive.
When the last movement arrived, tears were already on her face as she skated through the final phrase of the music.
She dropped to her knees on the ice, sliding forward, fists striking the surface once, so hard in release. Her back arched as she slowed, breath shaking, hands pressing into the ice like she was trying to hold herself together through it.
And then, slowly, she rose.
A smile appeared on her face.
And her program ended.
It was over…