MY SECOND LEAP ON ICE

Lyla’s POV

The thunderous applause and cheers pierced through the concrete walls of the campus sports building. My steps suddenly came to a halt on the paved walkway. A twisting sensation seized my lower abdomen, making my entire body tense.

Cold sweat once again dampened the back of my neck.

That sensation was back.

“Lyla, come on! We’re going to run out of seats in the cafeteria,” Mia called, glancing back at me.

I did not answer. My eyes remained fixed on the arena’s double glass doors, which were half open.

From a dozen or so meters away, I could still clearly hear the sharp squeak of shoes scraping against the wooden floor, followed by a heavy, muffled thud. The sound of a body hitting the mat.

The muscles in my legs instinctively tightened. A phantom ache shot through my left ankle, right at the site of the injury from two years ago.

“Lyla?” Mia walked back a few steps before reaching for my arm. “What’s wrong? You look so pale.”

I tore my gaze away from the arena doors and took a deep breath. I waved my hand dismissively, forcing a faint smile.

“I’m fine. Just a little dizzy,” I said softly.

“Are you sure? Do you want to go to the clinic first? I can take you,” Mia offered sincerely.

“No need. Let’s just go to the cafeteria,” I replied quickly.

I picked up my pace, deliberately walking ahead of Mia so she would not see my trembling fingers twisting together.

The world of sports was no longer mine. Two years had passed since the doctor at the hospital had shown me my X-ray with a sympathetic expression. Severely torn ligaments, and the promising career I had dreamed of as a floor gymnast, destroyed in a single second.

Now, I was just Lyla. An ordinary management student who went to class carrying a heavy backpack instead of a sponsor-branded training bag.

The faculty cafeteria was as crowded as usual. The smell of fried chicken and coffee filled the air. Mia was busy complaining about our academic advisor, who still had not replied to her messages, while I simply stirred my melted iced tea.

“You’re weird, Ly,” Mia said between bites. “Students from other departments are competing to join sports clubs to add to their portfolios. Meanwhile, you joined the administration club, where all you do is type reports.”

I swallowed. “I prefer working behind a desk.”

“Even though you have such a great posture. The way you walk is different too, so straight, like a ballet dancer or an athlete. Didn’t you ever join any clubs in high school?”

The hand holding my straw stopped moving.

“No. I just focused on studying,” I lied without hesitation. I had lied so many times that it no longer felt difficult.

Mia simply nodded, completely convinced and without the slightest suspicion. She went back to replying to messages on her phone.

I stared at my reflection on the dark screen of my phone. My hair was tied in a simple ponytail, with no heavy makeup and no crystal-studded costume clinging to my body.

This was the life I had chosen.

A safe life. No high jumps, no risk of falling, and no pain like the kind that had once destroyed me.

But why did my chest always feel tight whenever I heard the roar of a competition?

After we finished eating, we walked down the hallway of the main building toward our next class. The corridor was lined with bulletin boards plastered with overlapping posters for student activities.

Mia suddenly stopped in front of one of the wooden boards.

“Wow, this is so cool. Our university finally has its own official team?”

I took two more steps before glancing back. “What?”

“This. Look. The poster is so cool.”

I slowly turned around. My steps felt heavy as I approached the bulletin board. My eyes scanned the rows of overlapping flyers.

Then my gaze locked onto a large poster in the upper-right corner.

The poster featured a pure blue ice rink etched with sharp lines. In the center was the silhouette of two athletes suspended in midair, performing a perfect pair skating jump.

Across the top of the poster, bold, eye-catching letters read:

UNIVERSITY FIGURE SKATING TEAM SELECTION: HER GAME, HER STORY, HER GLORY.

My heart seemed to leap into my throat.

Figure skating.

Not floor gymnastics. But an ice rink. A world that had once briefly crossed paths with mine before everything fell apart.

I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. My eyes moved downward, reading the requirements at the bottom of the poster.

“Female athletes sought with advanced flexibility, an understanding of choreography, and the courage to conquer the ice.”

Beneath the requirements was a small line of text in vivid red that made my breath catch completely:

“The winner of the national selection will receive a full scholarship and the opportunity to train directly under a former national team coach.”

My left hand rose unconsciously. My fingers trembled as they hovered only a few centimeters above the smooth surface of the paper. I wanted to touch it, yet at the same time, I wanted to run as far away as possible.

“Ly? Are you interested?” Mia’s voice startled me.

I quickly pulled my hand back and clenched it at my side.

“No. I’m just looking.”

“But you’re staring at it like you want to see straight through the poster,” Mia muttered suspiciously.

Before I could answer, the sound of footsteps came from behind us. Heavy and steady. A faint mint scent mixed with the cold air as someone approached.

“That poster isn’t meant to be stared at while you daydream.”

The deep, cold voice made Mia and me instinctively turn around.

A tall man stood just one step away from me. He was wearing a black training jacket with the university logo, the zipper pulled all the way up to his neck. His sharp, dark eyes stared straight at me without blinking, sweeping over my face with a cold, assessing gaze.

I knew that face. Everyone on this campus knew him.

Joseph Morgan. The university’s star figure skater, famous for having zero tolerance for failure.

“If you’re just going to stand there admiring the picture, move,” Joseph said coldly, his voice sharp and completely devoid of warmth. “You’re blocking the way.”

A sudden heat stirred in my chest. A spark of emotion I had buried long ago suddenly flickered back to life inside me.