Chapter 131 Chapter 131

Chapter 131 Chapter 131
The hallway that separated the two locker room wings wasn't particularly wide.
It was just another corridor in the Regional Sports Complex—plain white walls, polished floors that reflected the overhead lights, and banners from past tournaments hanging high above.
Yet somehow...
It felt impossible to breathe.
Players from different schools moved past one another in a steady stream, each carrying the same dream while wearing different colours.
Blue. Green. Red. Black.
Some laughed to hide their nerves. Others walked with their heads down, earbuds tucked beneath their helmets, shutting out everything around them. A few quietly bumped fists with teammates as they passed, silent reminders that whatever happened out there, they weren't facing it alone.
Every jersey represented months of sacrifice, bruise, early morning practice, disappointing loss that forced a team to become stronger.
Every face carried the quiet determination of someone who had refused to quit when the season stopped being fun and started demanding everything they had.
The air itself felt different.
It smelled faintly of fresh ice, hockey tape and sharpened skate blades, mixed with the rich aroma of coffee drifting from the media lounge down the hall. Somewhere in the distance, a whistle shrieked before echoing through the building, followed by the dull scrape of a resurfacing machine preparing the rink for another battle.
This wasn't just another arena.
It felt like the centre of the entire hockey world.
I had barely taken three steps before someone called my name.
"Aria."
I turned to find Mrs. Brooks weaving through a cluster of photographers, a lanyard swinging gently from her hand. Her usual calm smile rested on her face, though there was an unmistakable excitement in her eyes.
"So you made it."
"I wouldn't miss this for anything."
"I know you wouldn't."
She held out the laminated badge.
"Here."
I accepted it carefully before slipping the strap over my neck.
The plastic card bounced lightly against my jacket.
PRESS.
Seeing the word printed beneath my name sent a strange flutter through my stomach.
Not long ago, I had only been the new coach's daughter trying to figure out why hockey mattered so much to everyone else.
Now...
I was here because my words had earned me a place.
Mrs. Brooks noticed me staring at the badge and smiled.
"You've earned it."
"Thank you."
"You'll have access to both locker room corridors before officials call everyone onto the ice."
I nodded.
"I appreciate it."
As I clipped the badge securely to my jacket, she tilted her head ever so slightly.
"Just don't spend the whole time staring at Ryder."
Heat rushed straight into my cheeks.
"I wasn't planning to—"
"You were."
Sofia appeared beside me with the worst possible timing, folding her arms as a grin spread across her face.
"I told you somebody would notice eventually."
I let out a dramatic groan.
"Can both of you stop ganging up on me for one day?"
"No."
Sofia answered far too quickly.
Mrs. Brooks laughed softly, the sound warm enough to ease some of the tension pressing against my shoulders.
"You've become terrible at hiding your expressions."
"I have not."
"You absolutely have," Sofia replied.
"When Ryder walks into a room, your eyes find him before your brain does."
"I hate both of you."
"No, you don't."
Unfortunately...
She wasn't wrong.
Mrs. Brooks chuckled one last time before the amusement slowly faded from her face. The teasing disappeared, replaced by the thoughtful expression she always wore whenever she wanted to teach me something.
She stepped a little closer.
"Remember why you're here."
"To tell the story."
She shook her head gently.
"No."
Her voice softened.
"To find it."
The words settled somewhere deep inside me.
Find it.
Not force it.
Not chase headlines.
Not write what people expected to read.
Find the truth hidden beneath everything happening around me.
She gave my shoulder a reassuring squeeze before disappearing into the crowd of reporters.
I stood there for another moment.
Find it...
The words echoed inside my head long after she'd walked away.
Taking a slow breath, I continued farther down the corridor.
The deeper I went, the quieter everything became.
The conversations from the entrance gradually dissolved into nothing more than distant murmurs. The clicking of camera shutters faded behind me until all I could hear were muffled voices filtering through closed locker room doors and the low mechanical hum of the ice resurfacer somewhere beyond the arena walls.
It was strangely peaceful.
Like the building itself was holding its breath.
Then...
I heard laughter.
Not loud.
Not cocky.
Just... genuine.
Curiosity tugged at me before I could stop myself.
I rounded the corner.
A small group of Crescent Academy players stood together outside their locker room.
One player sat on a nearby bench, carefully wrapping fresh tape around the blade of his stick with painstaking concentration.
Another leaned casually against the wall, watching him with obvious amusement.
"If you tape it any slower," he teased, "the game's going to start without you."
Without looking up, the first player replied, "Perfection takes time."
"No," another teammate cut in with a laugh, "wasting tape takes time."
The entire group burst into easy laughter.
It surprised me.
I had expected tension.
Focused expressions.
Last-minute strategy discussions.
Instead...
They looked comfortable around each other.
The kind of comfort that only came from years of shared practices, bus rides, losses, victories and inside jokes nobody else would understand.
They weren't pretending to be relaxed.
They genuinely were.
I stepped forward.
"Hi."
The conversation paused as several pairs of eyes turned toward me.
"I'm Aria Bennett."
"I cover Western Helms for the student newspaper."
One of the seniors smiled politely.
"The coach's daughter?"
I blinked.
"You know that?"
He laughed.
"The hockey world is smaller than you think."
Another player stepped forward, extending his hand with an easy confidence.
"Ethan Cole."
"Assistant captain."
His handshake was firm but friendly.
"Nice to meet you."
"You too."
"You here for interviews?"
"If you don't mind."
He shrugged.
"Depends."
I couldn't help smiling.
"On what?"
"If your first question is how we're planning to stop Ryder Hayes..."
A mischievous grin spread across his face.
"...then you're wasting your time."
A chorus of chuckles rippled through the group.
"I wasn't going to ask that."
"Good."
He folded his arms.
"Ask something interesting."
I thought for a moment before asking quietly,
"What makes Crescent Academy different?"
The laughter disappeared.
Not awkwardly.
Thoughtfully.
Each player exchanged brief glances with the others, as if searching for the right answer.
Finally, one of the defensemen spoke.
"We trust each other."
Another nodded.
"We've been together for years."
Ethan smiled.
"And we trust our captain."
Almost unconsciously, every player looked in the same direction.
No one told them to.
No one signaled.
It simply happened.
Naturally.
As if they all shared the same instinct.
I followed their gaze.
Several metres away, Noah Whitmore was kneeling beside one of the youngest players on the team.
The freshman's hands trembled as he struggled with the buckle on his helmet.
Again.
And again.
His breathing looked shallow.
Noah quietly reached over.
Without saying a word, he took the helmet, adjusted the strap, fastened the buckle properly, then rested a reassuring hand on the younger boy's shoulder.
"You've earned your place here."
The freshman swallowed hard.
"What if I mess up?"
Noah smiled—not the confident grin of someone showing off, but the calm smile of someone who genuinely believed what he was about to say.
"Then we'll help you fix it."
"But... what if I cost us the game?"
"You won't."
"How do you know?"
"Because nobody wins or loses alone."
For a moment...
The freshman simply stared at him.
Then the tension left his shoulders.
"...Okay."
Noah stood.
Only then did he notice me.
Our eyes met.
I expected caution.
Or annoyance.
Instead...
There was only quiet curiosity.
He walked over without rushing, every step calm and deliberate.
"You must be Aria."
I blinked.
"You know my name?"
A faint smile touched his lips.
"I read your article after the North Ridge game."
For a heartbeat, I forgot how to respond.
"You... actually read it?"
"It was good."
His answer was simple.
Honest.
"You wrote about people."
His eyes drifted briefly toward his teammates before returning to me.
"Most reporters write about goals."
Something inside my chest warmed.
Not because he'd complimented me.
But because he'd understood exactly what I'd been trying to do.
"Thank you."
He gave a single nod.
"I hope you find another good story today."
Before I could reply, a voice called from the locker room.
"Captain!"
One of his teammates leaned out through the doorway.
"We're ready."
Noah looked back, then toward me once more.
"I should go."
He offered another polite nod.
"Good luck."
"You too."
He turned and walked away.
His teammates naturally made space for him as he passed before disappearing into the locker room together.
The door clicked shut.
For several long seconds...
I simply stood there staring at the green door.
Sofia appeared beside me with her usual perfect timing.
"So?"
I finally exhaled.
"I think Coach Bennett was right."
She looked at me curiously.
"About what?"
My eyes never left the locker room.
"...He's different."
Not louder.
Not flashier.
Not meaner.
Just...
Different.
And for the first time since arriving at the arena...
Tomorrow's semifinal no longer felt like just another hockey game.
It felt like two teams built on the same values... about to discover whose beliefs would hold stronger when everything was on the line.