Chapter 27 #2
“Aaaah, I see,” he nodded, as if the explanation had suddenly solved a great mystery.
For a second, it was clear none of them had ever really heard of Novosibirsk before.
The name itself seemed to exist more as a concept than a place to them.
“It must be cold there?” Tora’s mother asked curiously.
“Well, yes,” Alisa said with a faint shrug. “It can go down to minus forty.”
“Oh… that’s freezing!” Tora’s father laughed, dramatically rubbing his shoulders as if he could physically feel the temperature just by imagining it.
“Yeah, the weather in Oslo is definitely better,” Tora said, glancing at her father, “but it’s still not exactly warm, Dad.”
Her father chuckled, shaking his head slightly.
“What else?” Tora’s mother continued gently, still curious.
Alisa hesitated for a moment, swirling the wine in her glass.
“Well… I’ve been figure skating my whole life,” she said slowly, “and there’s not really anything else that feels… memorable. It’s like…”
“Oh, come on!” Tora’s mother interrupted warmly. “Figure skating is legendary, and you’re doing amazing!”
Alisa gave a small, tired smile.
“Well… it is my whole life, that’s true,” she admitted quietly. “But now Tora… Tora has kind of become my whole life too, and I don’t really know what happens next.”
“But we do,” Tora’s mother said calmly. “And we’re confident everything will be fine.”
Alisa let out a soft, uncertain chuckle. “Are you always this positive?”
“It’s important,” Tora’s father replied with an easy smile, “to stay positive in a rapidly changing, chaotic world. And Norway is definitely more relaxed than Russia… though I suppose I can’t speak for everything.
But at least there, you and Tora can live together freely.
I’ve heard Russia has quite strict laws regarding LGBT people, which is unfortunate…
because people shouldn’t be prevented from loving who they want. ”
Alisa didn’t answer at first. She just nodded slightly, her gaze dropping toward the table as something heavy settled quietly in her chest. Not sadness exactly and not anger either, something in between.
A moment later, the waiter returned with their food.
Everyone had ordered different kinds of pasta.
Alisa had seafood pasta, Tora had a green pasta with chicken, and Tora’s parents had rich red and orange sauces that made the whole table look warm and colorful under the restaurant lights.
Everything looked almost unfairly delicious compared to the emotional weight sitting in Alisa’s chest.
Then Tora’s mother lifted her glass again.
“Alright,” she said softly, smiling, “we won’t torture you with questions anymore. We have many evenings and days ahead of us. We’ll spend them together in our home in Norway. You’re part of our family now.”
Alisa pressed her lips together tightly, trying to hold herself together.
But it didn’t fully work.
A tear slipped down her right cheek anyway.
Tora noticed immediately. She gently brushed it away with her thumb, then leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the same spot where it had fallen.
“Moia nevesta,”16 Tora whispered quietly in Russian.
Alisa let out a broken little laugh through her tears. “Oh my God, Tora…”
“I’m all yours,” Alisa whispered back, her voice trembling but warm. “Tvoia nevesta…”17
And then she leaned into Tora’s side, resting her head on her shoulder as if it was the only stable place left in the world. Her gaze drifted to the bouquets of red roses on the table.
Tora’s parents watched them quietly with soft affectionate smiles on their faces like they were observing something fragile and beautiful taking its first real shape.
To them, they looked so young and deeply in love and most importantly safe.
Even if Alisa herself still felt a little broken, uncertain, and completely changed by everything that had happened.
But in their eyes, and perhaps in Tora’s too, there was still only one belief: that somehow, in the end, everything would be alright.
* * *
Alisa couldn’t find Arkadiy anywhere. Not among the coaches, not among the men’s team, not even in the corners where officials usually gathered after events.
Maybe he was just busy. Maybe she was imagining things.
But still… there was a strange feeling sitting in her chest, quiet but persistent, like something had already been decided without her. It made her uneasy.
Then Tora appeared beside her without a word and took her hand, grounding her instantly.
They were standing in the corridor outside the arena, where the final exhibition segment of the Olympics was being prepared—the improvisational gala where skaters could perform anything they wanted, with any music, any style, no rules, no scores.
The Olympics were ending.
And the ice was becoming a stage for farewell performances.
Alisa stared toward the rink, her mind turning. She had an idea, something forming slowly in her mind, but when she looked at the ice again, she suddenly didn’t want to go out there alone.
What if… she hesitated, fidgeting with the edge of her costume. “Tora, maybe we could do an improvisation type of performance together?”
Tora blinked, surprised. “Like… pair skating?”
“Not exactly pairs,” Alisa corrected quickly. “More like ice dance… well, kind of. We don’t even know how to do lifts properly together yet, so it’s risky, but—”
She stopped herself, unsure.
Tora smiled immediately. “Well then we learn. Right now. What’s your idea?”
Alisa exhaled, feeling the idea become clearer as she spoke.
“We go out separately,” she said slowly, “from opposite sides of the ice… and then we skate toward each other. And the music could be… Legendary Lovers by Katy Perry.”
Tora’s face lit up instantly. “Ohhh, I love that.”
She bit her lip while smiling, so openly excited that Alisa actually snorted with laughter. That made Tora laugh too, and suddenly both of them were standing there trying not to fall apart from giggling in a corridor before an Olympic exhibition.
“Okay, okay,” Alisa said, still smiling. “We need lifts… or at least something that looks like lifts.”
“Underarm grip?” Tora suggested. “Just to start.”
Alisa nodded and bent slightly so Tora could test the position. The first attempt was awkward, of course—too much laughing, too much adjusting—but they tried again, still laughing, until it finally started to feel natural.
“Can you do a split?” Tora asked suddenly, eyebrows raised.
Alisa nodded immediately.
Tora carefully supported her again, and Alisa dropped smoothly into a clean longitudinal split on the ice.
“Great,” Tora said, impressed.
“Okay… what’s next?” Alisa asked, breathing a little faster now.
“Waist lock lift,” Tora said with growing confidence. “I lift you in front… then behind me.”
Alisa just nodded, spreading her arms slightly as if trusting the air itself. The moment Tora took her at the waist, Alisa jumped and Tora lifted her cleanly off the ice without any hesitation or shaking hands.
Alisa’s eyes widened slightly in shock.
She was… stable. Completely stable and so strong!
Tora held her like it was nothing.
“Okay,” Tora said calmly, still holding her, “Biellmann from here?”
“Let’s try,” Alisa breathed.
She shifted carefully, reaching for her leg while still in Tora’s grip, twisting her body upward into position. Tora adjusted instantly.
It worked. It actually worked!
They tried a few more holds, a few more lifts, small transitions between positions, testing balance, timing and most importantly — trust.
Tora looked at her. “So…”
Alisa smiled, breathless. “So… we go out there together like a pair of skaters?”
Tora squeezed her hand.
“Let’s show them art.”
They hugged each other briefly and then unclasped their hands, separating just enough to become two skaters again instead of one idea.
While the next ten skaters performed, they stayed near the boards, half-watching the ice, half-speaking with the DJ. Tora leaned in first, pointing toward the music queue, and after a short exchange and a casual shrug from the DJ, he nodded approving.
It was agreed.
They were ready.
By the time their turn came, the arena had already shifted into that final-exhibition energy with no tension like competition, but just general anticipation. When Tora was announced as the Olympic champion, she stepped out first from one side of the rink.
And then Alisa, announced as the silver medalist, opened the opposite gate.
The hall erupted immediately.
The announcer’s voice faded into the roar, and for a second the arena almost felt like it stopped breathing.
Then the music began.
Legendary Lovers.
They rode towards each other and, like falcons, circled around one another face-to-face, studying and observing each other with soft, knowing smiles, and then, on the words “come closer,” they finally did, drawing in at the same time as if the distance between them had never truly existed, reaching out, pulling each other closer, embracing each other around the waist and spinning together as one shared axis, their foreheads gently touching as the movement tightened into something intimate, and the arena erupted with shrieks and applause so loud it felt like the ice itself was vibrating beneath them.
They merged into what looked like an old dance meant for only one couple, circling each other with delicate precision around a shared center, like the tiny ballerinas inside a music box turning endlessly to the same invisible melody, so graceful and tender that it almost didn’t feel real anymore, only inevitable, one movement flowing into the next as if it had always been rehearsed somewhere beyond memory, one by one, step by step, like two lives finally syncing into the same rhythm.
And in the front row, Tora’s parents were already crying openly, unable to hide it anymore, watching their daughter and Alisa move in perfect harmony on the ice, their expressions completely soft with happiness, as if they were witnessing a fragile moment of love finally finding its shape in the world.