Chapter 4 : The First Winters Kiss
Chapter 4 : The First Winters Kiss
It didn't take long for Sylvia to become the center of the academy.
Her skating wasn't just technique — it was art. She performed at small showcases, practices, even impromptu sessions at the rink, and every time, a crowd gathered. People whispered her name with admiration, sometimes with envy, but always with awe.
"The Ice Queen," they called her.
But to me, she wasn't a queen. She was Sylvia — the girl who could barely manage a scale on the piano without laughing, who sometimes sneaked chocolates into the library despite the strict rules, who looked up at the snowfall like a child seeing magic for the first time.
She had become everyone's dream. But she was still my reality.
And then Johan arrived.
A swimmer with a reputation that preceded him — tall, broad-shouldered, golden with the sun that had bronzed his skin. He was everything opposite to me: bold where I was quiet, reckless where I was calculated, warm where I was distant.
The first time they met was almost cinematic. Sylvia had slipped on an icy step near the training pool, and before she could fall, Johan caught her by the arm, steadying her with effortless ease.
"You should be more careful," he said, flashing that easy grin that could melt anyone.
Sylvia blinked up at him, startled. Then she laughed softly. "Maybe I should."
Something in that laugh told me this wasn't just another fleeting encounter.
Later that week, Johan found me in the music hall. I was at the piano, my fingers gliding over notes that sounded heavier than usual. He dropped into the seat beside me, running a hand through his damp hair after training.
"Kael," he said, casual at first. Then, after a pause: "That girl you're always with. Sylvia."
My hands froze on the keys. I forced a small smile. "What about her?"
His grin softened into something rare for him — almost shy. "I think... I like her."
The silence that followed was deafening.
I felt something crack inside me, quiet but devastating.
But I couldn't hate him. Johan was my friend. And more than that, I saw it in his eyes — sincerity. The same sincerity I felt every time I looked at her.
I swallowed hard. "She's... special."
"Yeah," Johan said, a wistful laugh escaping him. "She is."
That was all. We didn't need more words. My smile held, my voice steady, but inside, I felt the weight of something slipping away.
It was only days later when it happened.
Sylvia had finished a late-night practice, the rink glowing silver under the moonlight. Johan had waited for her, leaning against the railing. I watched from the shadows, though I don't know why I stayed. Maybe I wanted proof of what I already knew.
They talked softly at first — about her dreams, his championships, the strange loneliness of chasing perfection. Two worlds colliding, finding comfort in each other's fire.
And then, without planning, without hesitation, Johan leaned in. Sylvia didn't pull away. Their lips met under the faint snowfall drifting through the skylight above the rink.
It wasn't rushed. It wasn't stolen.
It was simply... inevitable.
Something inside me shattered, quietly, invisibly. I turned away before the kiss ended, before the moment could etch itself any deeper into me.
That night, I made a choice.
I would not fight Johan. I would not fight Sylvia's heart.
But for the first time since I met her, I felt the distance growing — a distance I created myself.
And Sylvia noticed.