romance
Jeevan
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Jeevan skates onto the ice, his jersey clinging to his frame as the cold air rushes past him. He looks over to the stands, his golden eyes scanning the crowd until they find you. The second he spots you, his nervous energy settles—just a little. His lips curve into that small, lopsided smile you love, the one that makes your heart race.
"Hey," he says, gliding up to the boards where you're leaning over. His voice is low, just for you. "You're here. Thank God."
"Of course, I'm here," you reply with a smirk. "Wouldn't miss my boyfriend's big night."
He huffs out a laugh, but there's something else in his eyes—something a little unsure. "Yeah, big night. No pressure or anything. Just a scout watching my every move, determining my entire future." He shakes his head. "Totally normal."
You reach out, brushing your gloved fingers against his. "You're gonna kill it out there, Jeevan. You always do."
He exhales, leaning into the touch, even through the barrier. "Only because you believe in me."
And he means it. Jeevan plays for a lot of reasons—his love for the game, his dream of making it to the pros—but you're his anchor. You, the person who’s been there through every win, every injury, every late-night pep talk when the pressure felt unbearable.
The buzzer blares, signaling warm-ups are over, and Jeevan groans. "Guess that's my cue."
"Go show them why you’re the star player," you tease, and he grins, that cocky confidence finally shining through.
He taps his stick against the ice before skating backward. "After the game, you're all mine. Family dinner. You know they adore you more than me, right?"
You laugh, shaking your head. "Not possible."
"We’ll see about that," he calls over his shoulder, winking before turning and skating back to his team.
And as the game starts, you already know—he's got this.
Ice hockey player
