My Hockey Alpha



Nina

The air was crisp and cool, the perfect early summer evening, as I stepped onto the campus. Most of the students had left for the summer already aside from the few who remained during the off season, leaving the campus empty and quiet. But I didn't mind. It was nice sometimes to feel like I had the place to myself.

As I walked past the library, I spotted Luke pacing near a large oak tree. His eyes were locked on the ground, and there was something in his expression that made his normally soft face look far harsher than it usually did.

"Hey, Luke," I called out, and he looked up, momentarily startled.

"Nina! Hey," he said, pocketing his phone. "You look....intense. Everything okay?"

"That's actually what I was going to ask you. Have you seen Enzo? I need to talk to him."

Luke hesitated, his eyes dropping to the ground as if it might offer some guidance. "Enzo's...around."

"That didn't sound convincing. What's going on, Luke?"

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "You sure you wanna know?"

"I asked, didn't I?"

Luke looked at me for a long moment before he spoke. "Enzo kinda lost it while questioning the burglar. Beat the hell out of him."Text © by N0ve/lDrama.Org.

The world tilted for a moment, and I grabbed the tree for support. "He did what?"

"Hey, listen, he's not himself right now," Luke rushed to say, as if sensing the storm of emotions raging inside me. "That's not an excuse, Luke. You don't just... snap and beat someone up."

"Everyone's worried about you and how you're holding up," Luke said, his voice softening. "But maybe we've all been blind to how this is affecting him too. You're not the only one who's been going through a tough time."

"I never said I was," I retorted, my hands trembling. "But it seems like everyone is so preoccupied with my mental state that we've collectively dropped the ball on him. And I'm his wife. If anyone should have noticed, it should've been me."

Luke sighed. "Don't beat yourself up, Nina. You're both under a lot of stress, and it's hard to see past your own problems sometimes."

"Where is he?" I asked, feeling a sense of urgency now more than ever to talk to Enzo.

"He's with Matt. They're playing some hockey at the university arena. Matt calmed him down like a charm."

I nodded, already making my way toward the arena. My thoughts spiraled in a whirlwind of guilt and concern. Had I been so consumed with my own fears and apprehensions that I had forgotten to see my husband's? I felt like a bad wife, selfish even.

When I reached the arena, the cold air greeted me, filling my lungs and stinging my eyes. I found a secluded corner in the stands, my eyes searching the ice for Enzo. There he was, his face intense, his stick in hand as he battled against Matt for control of the puck.

I watched as they darted around the ice, their skates carving intricate patterns into the smooth white surface. Enzo seemed to be playing more aggressively than I had ever seen, his body moving with a kind of frantic energy.

Matt, on the other hand, appeared to be keeping pace, but there was a look of concern in his eyes that he couldn't quite mask. At one point, he stole a glance at Enzo when he thought he wasn't looking, and I saw it-the same concern that I felt deep in my bones.

I stayed hidden in my comer, my eyes never leaving Enzo. He was so engrossed in the game that he didn't notice

me. And for that brief moment, that was okay. I needed this unfiltered view of him, this glimpse into a part of his world where I was the outsider looking in.

As I watched Enzo glide across the ice, stick in hand, eyes focused intently on the puck, I felt a strange blend of fascination and worry. The Enzo I saw was both familiar and foreign-his movements so full of purpose, yet so tinged with desperation. His passion for the game was always one of the things I had loved about him, but tonight, it felt like a double-edged sword.

He and Matt clashed sticks, the sound resonating through the empty arena. Enzo was particularly aggressive tonight, his skates biting into the ice as he attempted to wrestle control of the puck from Matt.

And then it happened. Enzo pushed himself too hard, and his balance faltered. I saw him stumble, try to regain footing, but it was too late. He fell hard, face first onto the ice, and the gasp that escaped my lips seemed to echo in the chilly air.

My feet moved before I could think, taking me down the stands and onto the rink. The cold of the ice bit through my shoes as I ran towards him, managing to stay upright after months of running on the ice as the team's doctor.