Unconditionally

Unforeseen Twists

Arnold's POV

As soon as I stepped off the plane in the U.S., panic shot through me like an electric jolt. My heart raced as I rushed to the hospital. When I entered, I spotted my mom, her face red and swollen from crying. I immediately embraced her, trying to absorb the shock of her grief.

"What happened?" My voice trembled with fear.

"He was working at the construction site when a piece of equipment fell. He's in surgery." Her voice cracked, sending my world tilting off balance.

Time stretched painfully as I sat in the waiting room, the clock ticking away moments of hope. Every minute felt like an hour. I was lost in thought, swirling with worries about my dad, my mind racing with "what ifs." What if I never got to see him again?

"Arnold!" My mom's voice cut through my thoughts, and I looked up to see her rushing to my side, tears glistening in her eyes. "The doctors say he's stable, but he'll need time to recover."

"What exactly happened?" I pressed, desperate for any details that could ease the crushing weight in my chest.

"Just a freak accident. They said he was lucky, really. It could have been much worse." She sniffed, wiping her tears away. "He's going to be okay."

Relief washed over me, but it was accompanied by the heavy reality of the situation. It felt like we waited for ages until finally, a doctor approached us.

"Mr. Kavansky is in recovery. He'll be waking up soon," the doctor said with a reassuring smile. "You can see him shortly."

As I approached the hospital bed, a mix of emotions swirled inside me. My dad, the usually strong and unyielding figure, lay there looking fragile. I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself.

"Dad?" I called softly, my voice barely above a whisper. My heart raced as he stirred, slowly opening his eyes.

"Arnold?" His voice was hoarse, but there was a flicker of recognition in his gaze. "What are you doing here?"

"I came as soon as I heard. How are you feeling?" I asked, my throat tight with emotion.

"Like I got hit by a truck," he chuckled weakly. "But I'm okay, son. Just a little banged up."

I couldn't help but smile at his attempt to lighten the mood, but the worry still weighed heavily on my heart. "Mom said it was a freak accident. What were you thinking, working at the site? You promised me you'd be careful."

He looked away for a moment, guilt clouding his eyes. "I just wanted to finish the project before the tournament," he admitted, a sheepish smile creeping onto his face. "You know how it is. I thought I could handle it, but I guess I was wrong."

"Dad, it's not just about finishing projects. You're important to me, to all of us. You can't keep pushing yourself like this," I said, frustration seeping into my voice.

He sighed, the weight of my words evident on his face. "You're right. I've always been a stubborn one. But I thought I was invincible, you know? I wanted to set a good example for you—show you what hard work looks like. But I guess I've learned my lesson."

"Yeah, well, it's a tough way to learn," I replied, shaking my head. "You scared me, Dad. I thought... I thought I might lose you."

He reached for my hand, gripping it tightly. "I'm not going anywhere, buddy. You're stuck with me for a while longer. I'm sorry I was always so harsh on you, and please understand I know it's really hard, but I... I... love you, son. You are a star—an NHL future star—and I have so much hope for you, Arnold."

"I love you too, Dad," I said, the sincerity in my voice echoing the weight of his words. "But I want you to be there for my games, for everything. I can't imagine life without you."

He smiled, his eyes shining with pride. "I'll be there. I promise. I may have to sit on the sidelines for a bit, but I'll be cheering you on every step of the way. You have no idea how much I believe in you."

"I know it's tough right now, but it's okay to take a break," I said gently. "You've worked so hard, and you deserve some time to heal."

"I'll take it easy, I promise," he replied, his voice steadying. "But you need to keep pushing forward, Arnold. You have so much potential. Don't let anything hold you back."

I nodded, feeling a surge of determination. "I won't. I'll make you proud, Dad."

"And you already do," he said, his grip on my hand tightening. "Just remember, it's not about being perfect; it's about showing up and doing your best. You've got a bright future ahead, kid. Now go back to your tournament."

As we shared that moment in the hospital room, I felt a deep connection with my dad, one that reminded me of what truly mattered in life. Laughter and stories flowed freely, weaving through the uncertainty and pain. We talked about hockey, family, and the future, and it felt grounding to share those thoughts.

"Speaking of futures," my dad said, his eyes sparkling with mischief, "so, what's this about a girl named Stella Park? Or should I say Stella Kavansky?" He teased, leaning back in his bed, clearly enjoying my reaction.

I chuckled, trying to hide the blush creeping up my cheeks. "Dad, come on! It's not like that." But deep down, I knew it was definitely like that.

"Not like that, huh? Then why do you light up whenever you talk about her?" he pressed, raising an eyebrow.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair as I considered my feelings. "Stella's... amazing. She's driven and passionate, and when she dances, it's like she's in her own world. Watching her is mesmerizing."

"Sounds like someone's head over heels," my dad said with a knowing smile, and I couldn't help but grin back, the warmth spreading through me.

"Yeah, I guess I am," I admitted, feeling the truth wash over me. "It's more than just a crush, you know? I can't quite explain it, but there's something about her that pulls me in. She makes me feel alive."

"What do you mean?" he asked, leaning in slightly, genuinely curious.

I paused, gathering my thoughts. "It's like she sees me for who I really am, not just as Arnold Kavansky, the hockey player. She cares about what I think, what I feel. And I love the way she lights up when she talks about dance. It's infectious."

"Sounds like you're a goner," he chuckled, but I could see the pride in his eyes. "You should tell her how you feel, son. Don't wait around. Life's too short."

"I want to, but I don't want to mess things up," I confessed, feeling a knot tighten in my stomach. "What if she doesn't feel the same way? I don't want to ruin our friendship."

"Arnold, you're a good kid. Just be honest with her. You've faced a lot already; don't let fear hold you back," he encouraged, and his words resonated within me.

As I left the hospital that night, my heart felt lighter despite everything. I couldn't shake off the thought of Stella—her laughter, her passion, the way her eyes sparkled when she danced. She was a force of nature, and I found myself madly in love with her. No matter what challenges lay ahead, I would fight for my family—and for the love that connected us. And if that love was with Stella Park, I knew I had to find the courage to tell her.