THE NEW SHADOW
THE NEW SHADOW
16. THE STORM
The car kept climbing… and the city slowly disappeared behind them. Not all at once. Layer by layer. The noise. The traffic. The voices. Everything fading little by little.
Ilya stared out the window. The trees weren’t the ones he knew. Taller. More open. Wide leaves filtering the light differently… warmer somehow. More alive.
—Is it always like this?” Ilya asked without looking away.
—Yeah,” João answered. “You just get used to it.”
Ilya shook his head slightly.
—I don’t think I would.
Another curve. And then the view opened. Rio appeared all over again in full. Christ the Redeemer, motionless and enormous above everything. The line of Ipanema glowing below. The ocean stretching endlessly like it had no edge. Ilya said nothing. But he swallowed hard.
The house didn’t appear immediately either. It revealed itself gradually. First the gate. Then the entrance. Then the full structure. Wide. Open. Breathing. The car hadn’t even stopped completely before the gate was already open. Like they knew exactly when he was arriving.
—Meu filho…
The grandmother was already outside. João barely had time to close the car door before she wrapped him in a hug. Tight. Real. The kind of hug that doesn’t ask questions… it just confirms things.
—Você voltou…
—Of course, I’m back, grandma.
She held his face in both hands afterward, studying him carefully like she needed to verify he was still himself. Then she looked at Ilya. Brief silence. Evaluation.
—¿How’s him?
—He plays with me in Ottawa.
That answer was enough.
—Hi! It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Ilya said politely.
—Then he’s family too.
She turned naturally toward the house.
—Prepare one of the guest rooms.
Small pause.
—The best one.
The air inside felt cool. Quiet. Everything in place without feeling rigid. Ilya walked slowly, observing without touching anything. Until they reached the room. João opened the door. Ilya stopped. This time he actually said it out loud.
—Wow.
The room was large, but not excessive. Open windows. Curtains moving softly with the breeze. A perfectly made bed. Water already poured. Fresh fruit waiting. Everything ready without effort. Ilya stepped farther inside. Ran a hand across the bed. Then turned toward the bathroom. And stopped completely.
—Does this… light up?
The floor looked like it was glowing from underneath.
He crouched slowly. Pressed a hand against it. Then, without caring how ridiculous he looked, lowered himself farther until his cheek touched the stone. Then his ear. Watching. Trying to understand.
João leaned against the doorway with his arms crossed, amused.
—It doesn’t light up.
Ilya narrowed his eyes, still pressed to the floor.
—Then why does it shine like that?
—The stone.
Ilya dragged his hand slowly across the surface, feeling it.
Then stood up and shook his head once.
—This isn’t normal.
João smiled from the doorway.
—Not for you.
Ilya looked around again. The light. The calm. The order. Then back at João.
—What does it feel like living here?
João didn’t answer immediately. Ilya crossed his arms.
—I mean seriously… you have this. All this.”
He gestured subtly toward the room, the house, the invisible view beyond the walls.
—And you choose to leave it for the cold… for Canada… to play hockey?”
Pause.
—Why?
João let out a small laugh. Not mocking. Just calm. Like someone who had already asked himself that question a hundred times.
—Life is difficult to explain.
Ilya frowned.
—That’s not an answer.
—It is,” João replied calmly.
He pushed himself off the doorway and stepped farther into the room.
—My grandmother told me something a long time ago…”
Small pause.
—There are things in life that are hard to understand… and others that are hard to interpret.
Ilya stared at him, trying to process it.
—There’s always a good side and a bad side,” João continued. “You choose which one to follow.”
Small shrug.
—But in the end… the answer’s usually more complicated than the question.
Brief silence.
Ilya kept looking at him another few seconds. Then blinked. And laughed quietly through his nose.
—I didn’t understand any of that.
João smiled.
—I know.
Ilya shook his head again, still half laughing.
—Doesn’t matter.
He turned around slowly, looking at the room again.
—I think I’m gonna stay here forever.
Small pause.
—If you don’t mind.
João watched him one second longer than necessary.
—Yeah. I’d mind.
Ilya turned back toward him, eyebrow lifting slightly.
—Really?
João walked closer. Slowly.
—Yeah. Because then I wouldn’t have anyone left to beat on my team.
The air shifted subtly.
—Everyone else…” he made a tiny gesture, “they’re boring.”
Ilya watched him more carefully now.
—You’re the only real competition I have.
Silence.
—That’s why you’re here.
No smile. No joke underneath it.
—None of my teammates are here.”
Pause.
—Only you.
Ilya went still. Didn’t answer. But something in his expression changed slightly, like he didn’t know what to do with that. Then he looked away.
—Let’s eat,” he muttered more quietly.
João held onto that reaction for another second. Then smiled faintly.
—Let’s go.
When they came downstairs, the table was already set. Long. Precise. Silverware shining under warm lighting. The grandmother already seated.
—Sit.
João pulled out a chair. Ilya hesitated for half a second before sitting down.
—Juice?” João asked while pouring himself some.
—Yeah… thanks.
João handed him the glass naturally. Calmly. The grandmother began serving food with slow confidence.
—This is moqueca,” she explained.
Ilya looked at the plate.
—What’s in it?
—Fresh fish… tomatoes… cilantro… oil…” small gesture, “simple things done properly.”
Ilya nodded and took a bite. Stopped moving immediately. João glanced sideways at him.
—Well?
Ilya swallowed slowly.
—This is… really good.
The grandmother smiled with quiet satisfaction.
—Where are you from?” she asked.
—Russia.
—Cold.
—Very.
—And now here…
Ilya lifted his glass slightly.
—I’m adapting.
João reached for the bread basket.
—Want some?
Ilya nodded.
—Yeah.
He handed it over. Small gestures. Everything flowing naturally.
—And your family?” the grandmother asked.
Ilya lowered his eyes briefly.
—They’re there.
She nodded once. Didn’t push.
Brief silence.
Then Ilya looked around again. The table. The house. Everything.
And said it completely without filter:
—I didn’t know you people were millionaires.
One second of silence.
Then the grandmother laughed softly. João too. Relaxed.
—We’re not,” João answered calmly.
He rested his arm against the table.
—We’re just hardworking people.
The grandmother nodded.
—Hardworking people who do things properly. Value isn’t in what you own. It’s in how you build it… even when nobody’s watching.
Ilya looked back down at his plate. Then at them. Something here felt different. This wasn’t empty luxury. It was structure. History. Effort. Discipline. And for the first time since arriving… he felt strangely at home.
The next morning, sunlight flooded in early. Too early. Slipping through the light curtains and moving with the warm morning breeze. Ilya didn’t move. Buried deep in that heavy kind of sleep where the body still doesn’t understand what country it’s in.
The door opened slowly. Quietly. João peeked inside first… then walked in barefoot with the confidence of someone who’d lived there his entire life. He watched him for a second and smiled. Then walked to the bed and leaned down close enough for his voice to brush directly against Ilya’s ear.
—Wake up, sleepyhead…” he whispered. “Time to get ready.”
Ilya didn’t even open his eyes. He frowned and buried himself deeper into the sheets.
—Please… no…” he murmured sleepily. “It’s too early…”
João laughed quietly.
—I know. Jet lag’s hitting you hard. And there’s only one hour difference.”
He sat on the edge of the bed.
—But you’re in Brazil now, not Canada.
Pause.
—Life starts early here.
Ilya grumbled something incomprehensible and turned his face away from the light.
—Five more minutes…
João shook his head immediately.
—No.
He leaned slightly closer.
—If you don’t wake up, I’m gonna keep pinching you until you lose your mind.
Awkward silence.
—Deal?
Ilya opened one eye. Just one. Looked at him with annoyance that didn’t hold much actual strength behind it.
—Can we negotiate?
João didn’t even think about it.
—Absolutely not.
Without asking permission, João laid down beside him. Half on his side, propped up on one arm. Invading his space without making it uncomfortable. Ilya felt the movement. The weight. The warmth. Opened the other eye.
—What are you doing?
—Making sure you wake up.
João leaned closer again. Close enough for his voice to fall directly into his ear once more.
—Want me to insist harder, Rozanov?
Pause. Slight smile.
—I thought Russians were supposed to be braver than this…”
Closer still.
—But apparently that’s all propaganda.
Ilya looked at him properly now. Fully awake. A second of silence passed. The kind that isn’t uncomfortable… but definitely isn’t innocent either. Then he let out a soft laugh through his nose.
—You’re so annoying.
João smiled.
—And I’m still here.
Ilya sighed and rubbed a hand over his face.
—Fine…”
He sat up slowly.
—But if I pass out later, it’s your fault.
João got off the bed looking satisfied with himself.
—You’re not gonna pass out.
He walked toward the door.
—You’ll get used to it.
Then stopped briefly and looked back over his shoulder.
—And you’re gonna like it.
Ilya watched him leave in silence. Then looked toward the sunlight pouring through the windows. Took a deep breath. And before he’d even fully processed the morning… they were already on their way to the beach.
The heat arrived before the noise did. Not heavy. Enveloping. The kind that clings to your skin without becoming uncomfortable. When they stepped out of the car, the sand already felt warm beneath their feet and the air tasted like salt.
—We got here early,” João said while glancing around.
But the team was already there. Cameras. Lights. People moving with precision. Nothing improvised.
—Good morning,” a beautiful woman greeted while approaching them. “I’m Mariana from VORAZZA Sports.”
Handshake. Kiss on one cheek. Then the other. Professional. Confident.
—Thank you for being here.
—Our pleasure,” João answered naturally.
Ilya nodded, observing more than speaking.
—We’re working with two concepts today,” Mariana explained while guiding them farther down the beach. “Technical swimwear and urban lifestyle. The idea is performance… outside the ice.”
They received their wardrobe. Minimalist. Clean. Designed around the body.
A few minutes later, they stepped back out. Thong swimwear. Sunglasses. Skin slightly glossy from sunscreen. And that was when the atmosphere changed completely. Because now they weren’t just hockey players anymore. They were image. Presence.
Their bodies spoke for themselves. Not exaggerated. Not artificial. Built through years of discipline instead of aesthetics. Defined shoulders. Sharp abdominal lines. Stronger curves than usual from skating for years.
Ilya looked paler at first… but the sun quickly started warming his skin with a golden layer.
—Perfect, Ilya,” the photographer called out. “Stay there.”
João adjusted his posture beside him effortlessly, like he understood cameras instinctively.
—Closer.
—Now walk.
—Look at each other for one second—
Click.
Click.
Click.
A different camera team waited nearby. Less polished. More direct.
—Local TV,” Mariana explained. “They speak Spanish.”
João nodded.
—Perfect.
The host approached with a huge smile.
—Welcome to Rio. Ready?
—Always,” João answered.
Ilya only tilted his head slightly.
—We’re here with two international players who are causing a huge sensation right now… how does it feel being in Brazil?”
João answered first.
—It’s home for me. It’s always special coming back.”
He looked at Ilya briefly.
—And sharing it… makes it even better.
—And you, Ilya? How’s the experience been so far?”
Ilya adjusted his sunglasses slightly.
—Different.
Pause.
—But… good.
Nothing more. And somehow… that worked.
—What motivated you both to accept this campaign?”
—The vision,” João replied. “It’s not just image. It’s about expanding the sport. New markets. New audiences.”
Professional. Controlled. Then came the next question.
—How do you see yourselves in the future?”
Ilya didn’t answer immediately. Something shifted inside him for one second. Barely noticeable. But enough. Because in that second, he thought about Shane. Everything they’d talked about. Everything unresolved between them. He lowered his eyes briefly before finally answering.
—I’m working on something…” he said. “A charity project.”
Pause.
—With Shane Hollander.
The name lingered in the air.
—We’re still figuring it out.”
He looked forward again.
—But as for the future…”
Small shrug.
—I don’t even know if I’ll still be alive tomorrow.
Brief silence. Real silence. No drama in it. Just truth.
João stepped in smoothly.
—What we do know…”
He glanced at Ilya.
—is that we’re building something.
And he closed the moment perfectly, like someone who understood cameras instinctively. At first it was one person asking for a photo. Then two. Then five.
—Photo?
—Of course.
João stepped closer naturally. Ilya hesitated half a second before following him.
—Who are they?
—Look them up on Instagram—
—Wait, they ARE famous!
Phones started coming out immediately. Searches. Names spreading fast: Ilya Rozanov and João Costa. And suddenly it changed. It wasn’t curiosity anymore. It was recognition.
—Ilya!
—João!
More people. Closer. Faster. Some respectful. Others far more confident. Kisses on the cheek. One side. Then the other. Smiles. Compliments. Portuguese. English.
—Gatinhos de mais. You’re amazing.
—What a handsome man.
—Incredible body—
João handled it easily. Warm. Polite. Perfectly aware of where the line was. Ilya stayed more restrained… but not distant. Learning in real time.
And around them, everything was being recorded. Phones. Videos. Stories. TikToks. VORAZZA Sports logos everywhere.
Meanwhile Mariana watched from nearby, satisfied.
—This…” she murmured, “is exactly what we wanted.”
She approached João during a small pause.
—Engagement’s already exploding.
She showed him her phone. Thousands climbing fast by the second.
—The contract includes three main posts,” she reminded him. “But with this… we’re renegotiating visibility.”
João nodded once.
—I figured.
—And if this trend keeps growing…” she glanced toward Ilya, “we’ll extend the campaign.”
Ilya lifted an eyebrow.
—More days here?
—If you both agree.”
João smiled faintly.
—Could be worse.
The sun remained high overhead. The shoot kept going. But somewhere else in the world, it wasn’t just a photoshoot anymore. It was content. It was trending. It was noise. Because within minutes… people were already talking about it. And within hours, once again, it went viral.
And while Rio kept breathing music, heat, and movement… on the other side of the continent, someone was watching everything fall apart in real time. Because back in Boston, Shane’s phone wouldn’t stop vibrating. The notifications didn’t arrive one at a time. They came all at once. Videos. Tags. Messages. Ilya’s name everywhere. Shane unlocked his phone. Play. Ilya. Brazil.
Sunlight. Laughter. People surrounding him. João. Close. Too close. Another video. A woman kissing Ilya on the cheek. Another one. João laughing with someone, touching Ilya’s arm. Another. Ilya… relaxed. Like nothing was wrong. Like Shane didn’t even exist. Shane stopped breathing for a second. Not from jealousy. Something deeper. Disconnection.
—Fuck…
He dragged a hand over his face. The phone kept ringing. But none of those texts or calls were the one he actually needed. Shane clenched his jaw and dialed someone.
—Shane?” Hayden answered.
No greeting.
—I fucked up.
Silence on the other end.
—Okay, freak,” Hayden said calmly. “Let’s start there.”
Shane paced across the apartment. Restless.
—I got jealous.
—Of what?
—Nothing…” he corrected himself immediately. “Well… something I don’t even know actually happened.”
He ran a hand through his hair.
—I saw Ilya with João. Close. Too comfortable.”
—And?
—And I reacted badly,” he admitted. “I shut down. Got… cold.”
Pause.
—And then…”
He hesitated. That part carried weight.
—Then he saw me with Rose.
Heavier silence.
—How much did he “see”?” Hayden asked carefully.
—Enough.
Didn’t need more explanation than that.
—We were close. Talking… but from the outside it didn’t look like that. Because Rose wasn’t wearing a shirt.”
He inhaled deeply.
—And the worst part isn’t even that.”
Hayden stayed quiet.
—The worst part is… he tried to tell me he was going to Brazil.”
Pause.
—And I didn’t let him talk.
That was the part that hurt.
—I didn’t take it seriously. Thought it was just another conversation… another argument… another thing we’d deal with later. I didn’t realize it was happening that fast. That it was real.”
He laughed once without humor.
—And now he’s there.
He looked back down at the phone. The pictures. The videos.
—And I’m here watching the entire world look at him half naked.”
—Did you call him?” Hayden asked.
—Yeah.
—Did he answer?
—No.
—How many times?
Shane didn’t answer immediately.
—Enough that it’s obvious he’s ignoring me. I know he’s angry. I know he doesn’t want to see me right now.”
Silence again. Heavy, but not empty.
—Did anything happen with Rose?” Hayden asked directly.
Shane shut his eyes.
—No.
Pause.
—But it doesn’t matter.
He opened them again.
—For him it does… because of what he saw.”
Hayden exhaled slowly.
—Of course it matters. You’re talking about Ilya, not just anyone.”
Shane finally stopped pacing.
— I love him.
No hesitation. No doubt.
—I love him, Hayden. It’s not… optional. It’s not something I can manage or control.”
His voice dropped lower.
—He’s everything.
Brief silence.
And then Hayden’s tone changed. Firmer now. More direct.
—Then what the hell are you still doing there?”
Shane didn’t answer.
—What are you waiting for?”
Short pause.
—Go get your man.
Stronger now.
—GO.
Shane tightened his grip on the phone. And hung up.
The decision finally came. He tried. Really tried. Suitcase. Coat.
Keys. Everything packed in minutes. He stopped for one second and pulled out his phone again. Cold hands. Fast breathing. Flights. Montreal → Rio de Janeiro. Loading… One second. Two.
—Thank you…
He didn’t even know who he was talking to. He entered the website. Selected the flight. Confirm. Payment screen. He hesitated for half a second. Not because of the money. Because of everything else.
Then—click.
“Flight confirmed.”
Shane closed his eyes.
—I’m coming…
He whispered it more to himself than to Ilya. Grabbed the suitcase. And left. But the snow wasn’t falling anymore. It was attacking. Wind crashing sideways. Visibility almost gone.
At the same time in Brazil, the car crawled slowly through traffic. Too slowly. Lights. Colors. Crowds.
—What’s happening?” Ilya asked.
—Carnival traffic,” João answered.
Ilya looked out the window.
—Feels like the entire city is… alive.
João smiled faintly.
—It is.
João’s phone vibrated in his hand. He checked the alert quickly. Storm in Canada. Severe. Ilya turned toward him.
—How bad?
—Flights stopped.
Pause.
—League suspended.
Silence.
Ilya looked forward again. Distant. Thinking. João watched him for a second before speaking.
—Hey…”
Ilya turned slightly.
—Yeah?
João sounded casual. But intentional.
—We could stay a few more days.
Pause.
—Carnival starts in two days.”
Small smile.
—Would be a shame to miss it.
Ilya didn’t answer immediately.
João added more quietly:
—And I want to show you more of my city.
That changed the weight of it. It wasn’t logistics anymore. It was personal. Ilya looked at him carefully, thinking. Then nodded once.
—Yeah. Probably.
Simple. But enough. His phone vibrated again. Jane. He let it ring.
Again. Jane. He flipped the phone over face down.
Again.
Again.
Again.
He inhaled deeply and shut his eyes for one second. And saw it again: Shane. Rose shirtless. Standing too close.
Ilya opened his eyes. Picked up the phone. Looked at the name again. And made a choice. Not answering.
Rio stayed awake around them. Music pouring from the streets, balconies, and cars trapped in traffic. And even though Ilya still glanced at the phone every so often… he ended up turning it face down again. Because for a few hours… he didn’t want to think about Canada.
Rafael’s house had the kind of chaos that only exists between people who know each other too well. Low music. Plates scattered across the table without order. Bruno laughing louder than necessary from the kitchen while Lia finished serving something nobody had asked for but everyone was obviously going to eat anyway.
—You’re late,” Rafael said the second he saw them walk in. “That’s suspicious already.”
Ilya let out a short laugh.
—Not everything revolves around you.
—It should,” Bruno yelled from behind them. “Would make life easier.”
João greeted everyone with an effortless nod, introducing Ilya casually. And everything felt familiar to him immediately. Too familiar. These weren’t recent friends. These were people who’d known each other almost their entire lives.
Conversation flowed instantly. Old stories. Inside jokes. Comments moving around the room without needing explanation. João participated naturally. Answered when he wanted to. Smiled at the right moments. But he wasn’t leading the room. Not like usual. Lia watched him for a few seconds longer than necessary before finally saying it without drama:
—What’s wrong with you, João?”
He looked up, slightly surprised.
—Nothing?
Rafael laughed quietly.
—Yeah, sure. “Nothing.”
Bruno shook his head while grinning.
—We know you, man. You don’t have to pretend here.”
A few soft laughs circled the table, but the moment didn’t fully disappear. João leaned back in his chair, relaxing his shoulders like it didn’t matter.
—I’m not pretending.
—Uh-huh,” Lía said, crossing her arms. “Then explain why you’re quieter than usual.”
—I’m calm.
—No,” Bruno answered instantly. “You’re weird.”
Rafael narrowed his eyes slightly, suddenly connecting something.
—Don’t tell me this is some kind of Bad Romance situation…”
Bruno exploded laughing immediately.
—Rah-rah-ah-ah-ah… roma-roma-ma…” he started singing dramatically while waving his hand through the air.
Lía nearly choked laughing.
—No wait…” she added between laughs. “I want your love and I want your revenge…”
—Shut up!” João snapped, completely red now while shaking his head. “It has nothing to do with that.”
—Suuuure,” Bruno muttered, still laughing. “Of course not.”
Ilya lowered his gaze slightly, hiding a brief smile behind his glass.
Which only made things worse.
—Look at him,” Rafael said, pointing at João. “He’s blushing. We lost the man.”
—He’s gone,” Bruno confirmed dramatically. “Gaga was right all along.”
Laughter exploded around the table. João let out a defeated breath and covered part of his face with one hand.
—You people are unbearable.
—But we’re right,” Lía answered without stopping smiling.
João’s phone vibrated against the table. He looked down. His sister. He stared at the screen one second longer than normal… like the call had arrived at exactly the wrong moment.
—Everything okay?” Rafael asked.
João grabbed the phone.
—Yeah… be right back.
He stood up quietly and walked outside.
The air outside felt cooler. João leaned back against the wall while answering.
—Yeah?
—Am I interrupting?” his sister asked calmly.
—No… everything’s fine. How are you?” he answered almost too quickly, changing the subject immediately. “How’s everything there? How’s life?”
She laughed softly.
—Look who’s asking.
—I’m serious,” João insisted more relaxed now. “How’s the move? How’s… everything?”
—Good. Can’t complain,” she answered. “You know us Costas.
We adapt to everything.”
João smiled faintly while lowering his eyes.
—That’s true.
—See?” she added. “We survive anything.”
—Anything.
Both laughed quietly.
Then a small silence settled between them. Not uncomfortable. But enough.
—Hey…” she said eventually, her tone changing. “Are you okay?”
João stayed silent one second too long.
—Yeah…” he answered. “Everything’s fine.”
—No,” she said softly. “You’re not ‘fine.’”
João exhaled slowly.
—I’m… thinking too much.
—Yeah,” she replied. “That already tells me enough.”
Another pause.
—Brother…” she continued, gentler now. “You sound lost. What’s happening? You know you can talk to me.”
João stared forward without really focusing on anything.
—I don’t know exactly what’s happening,” he admitted quietly. “It just… doesn’t feel the way it’s supposed to.”
—Is this about… someone?”
Direct. No pressure behind it.
João hesitated only briefly.
—I think so.
Small silence. Heavier now.
—I want to ask you something important,” she said. “That person… are they there in Brazil with you?”
João swallowed. And this time he didn’t avoid it.
—Yes.
Nothing more. On the other end, there was no judgment. Just calm.
—Then think carefully,” she said. “Think about the good and the bad. Think about who deserves you… and what you’re actually looking for.”
João listened quietly.
—If it’s real for you… you’ll know,” she continued. “And whatever you decide, I’ll support you.”
João nodded even though she couldn’t see it.
—Thank you.
The silence afterward felt different now. Lighter. Clearer.
—I love you, little brother,” she said softly.
João closed his eyes briefly.
—I love you more.
—Never forget that,” she added. “I’m here for you.”
João inhaled deeply, steadier now.
—I know.
—Take care of yourself.
—You too.
The call ended.
Meanwhile, in Boston, the decision had already been made.
There was nothing left to think about.
Shane grabbed his keys, locked the apartment behind him, and hurried outside. The wind hit him the moment he stepped out of the building. Snow was still coming down hard, covering his windshield again almost as soon as the wipers cleared it. He started the engine. The wipers barely managed to clear the glass before another layer of snow swallowed it again.
—Come on... come on...
He wasn't talking to the car. He was talking to himself.
The entire drive, his eyes kept drifting to the clock on the dashboard. Traffic crawled. Far too slowly. Every red light felt endless. Every snowplow blocking a lane became another obstacle. Still, he was convinced he'd make it.
When the airport finally emerged through the storm, relief washed over him. He pulled straight into the parking garage. The first level was full. Then the second. He circled twice before finding an empty spot, much farther from the terminal than he'd hoped. He didn't even bother turning off the radio. He grabbed his suitcase from the back seat, locked the car with the remote, and broke into a run.
The cold cut across his face. Snow crunched beneath his shoes. The automatic doors slid open, and warm air wrapped around him all at once. He took a deep breath. His eyes shot toward the departure boards. He searched for his flight. It was still there. It didn't say Canceled. Not yet. His chest loosened, just a little. There was still hope.
He joined the airline line. It was packed. Families. Business travelers. Children asleep on top of suitcases. Every one of them staring at the same screens. The line moved with agonizing slowness.
Shane checked his phone.
Nothing from Ilya.
He called again.
Calling...
Nothing.
He slipped the phone back into his pocket just as a ripple of voices spread through the terminal.
He looked up.
One by one...
the departure boards began to change.
First one flight.
Then another.
Then another.
CANCELED.
CANCELED.
CANCELED.
His stomach dropped.
No.
Not his.
It couldn't be.
The line moved forward another few steps.
By the time he finally reached the counter, he barely had to think.
—I need to get out of here. I need to get to Rio de Janeiro.
The airline agent looked up with the same expression she'd probably worn dozens of times already that morning.
—I'm sorry, sir.
Shane swallowed.
—There has to be another way. Another connection... anything?
She slowly shook her head.
—There isn't.
She looked back at her screen, searching for another option.
She didn't find one.
—All international flights were suspended a few minutes ago.
Shane didn't move.
Suitcase in one hand.
Phone in the other.
Unable to move forward.
Unable to turn back.
He called again.
Lily.
Calling...
Nothing.
Shane. Trapped in the middle of the storm. Trying to get to him.
Ilya. Surrounded by warmth. Choosing not to answer.
And somewhere between the snow... and the heat...
the distance between them had never felt more real.