My hockey heartthrob

The rink smelled like cold metal and sweat, a scent I used to think was thrilling. Back then, it had meant him in his jersey, skates carving lines across the ice, eyes shining with that fire I couldn't resist. We had promise forever, whispered it in hushed tones under the bleachers, hearts thumping louder than the roaring crowd. But forever hadn't been enough. Not when the world called his name louder than I ever could. "Alex", I had said that night, standing on the edge of the rink as he tightened the laces of his skates, his eyes focused somewhere beyond me. "Please... don't let this change us". He looked up and for a second, I thought I saw the boy who had kissed me under snow-dusted streetlights, who held my hand in the middle of a storm. But the second later, that spark was gone, replaced by something colder. Fame had carved lines across his smile, and ambition had filled the space where love used to live. "I.... have to do this, Mia", he whispered, his voice trembling just enough to betray the mask "you know I do. I can't hold myself back". My chest ached with every word, every quiet confession of the life we could have had. "And what about us?". I asked, my voice breaking, even though I tried to keep it steady. "Don't I matter?". He swallowed hard, as if words themselves had betrayed him. "You matter... more than anything. But sometimes, love isn't enough. You have to let me go". And I did. I had to. I let him walk away into the floodlights of his dream, watching the shadow of the man I loved vanish into a world that didn't have room for us both. I thought I was strong enough, that I could move on. But every time I hear roar of a cheering crowd, every time a hockey puck smacks against the boards, a piece of me still wishes he would come back for me. Five years, five long years of pretending that I had forgotten him. That I hadn't stayed awake at night imagining him, imagining us. But deep down, I knew the fire never went out, and neither, I suspected, had his heart forgotten mine