𝐁𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬

Chapter one

(Song recommendation: Elastic heart by SIA)

The cold air bit at her cheeks as Jihyo choi laced up her skates, the familiar tension of leather pulling against her fingers. It was a ritual she'd known since childhood, one that had always grounded her in moments of uncertainty. But tonight, the ice beneath her felt different—less like a stage for dreams and more like a battleground she was unprepared to face.

The rink was empty, save for the ghostly reflections of the overhead lights that shimmered on the freshly polished surface. It was her sanctuary, the one place where the noise of the world faded into the background. But even here, in the quiet solitude, she couldn't shake the tension that had crept into her life since her new coach had arrived.

She pushed off, gliding across the ice with the grace and precision that had earned her countless medals. Each movement was automatic, muscle memory built over years of grueling practice. But tonight, there was a weight in her chest that made it hard to breathe. The stakes were higher now; the Olympics were no longer just a distant dream but a looming reality. And with that reality came the pressure, the scrutiny, and the presence of a man she wasn't sure she could trust.

Suho ji was a name that echoed through the halls of every rink she'd ever trained in. A legend in his own right, his rise and fall in the figure skating world had been the stuff of tabloids and documentaries. Now, he was here, in this small, unassuming rink, tasked with molding her into a champion.

The door to the rink creaked open, and a shadow fell across the ice. Jihyo slowed to a stop, her breath coming in short, visible puffs. She didn't need to turn around to know who it was. She could feel the shift in the air, the quiet intensity that always accompanied his presence.

"Jihyo," his voice was even, professional.

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. There was something in the way he watched her that made her feel exposed, as if he could see every doubt, every fear she tried to hide. But there was also a challenge in his gaze, a silent demand that she rise above it all.

He didn't offer her comfort or reassurance—she hadn't expected him to. Suho ji was here to push her to her limits, to strip away every weakness until there was nothing left but the skater she needed to become. And despite the walls she'd built around herself, she couldn't deny the flicker of respect, even admiration, that his presence sparked in her.

But that was all it was, she reminded herself. Respect for his skill, nothing more. She couldn't afford to let it be anything more.

Suho's eyes remained on her, unblinking and appraising. "Your form on the triple axel is solid," he began, his voice echoing slightly in the empty rink. "But you're holding back in the second rotation. It's almost imperceptible, but it's there."

Jihyo nodded, absorbing his critique. There was no warmth in his tone, just an analytical detachment that made her feel more like a project than a person. "I'll work on it," she replied, trying to match his detached professionalism.

"See that you do," he said curtly, his gaze not softening in the slightest. "At this level, perfection is the bare minimum."

His words were like ice—sharp, cold, and unyielding. Suho ji didn't coddle his skaters. He didn't offer encouragement or reassurance. He delivered the truth, raw and unfiltered, expecting nothing less than total commitment in return.

Jihyo's grip on the edge of the rink tightened. She was used to tough coaches, but suho was different. He was relentless in a way that bordered on ruthless, and she couldn't help but wonder if there was any humanity left behind those steely blue eyes.

"There's more than just the technical to consider," he continued, his voice cutting through her thoughts. "You need to eliminate all traces of doubt from your performance. The judges don't care about your potential; they care about results. If you can't deliver, someone else will."