Updated Mar 22, 2026 • ~8 min read
Chapter 24: What Henrik Learned
POV: Henrik
Henrik – ROCK BOTTOM
Henrik makes it exactly two months without Rory before Lucas stages what is basically an intervention, cornering him in the locker room after practice and saying with brutal honesty, “You’re destroying yourself and it’s painful to watch. Either fix things with her or actually move on, but stop existing in this limbo where you’re too miserable to function.”
“I’m functioning fine,” Henrik lies, even though his game has been terrible for eight weeks, even though he’s lost twelve pounds from not eating properly, even though he’s been sleeping maybe four hours a night and spending the rest of the time replaying every mistake he made with Rory and hating himself for ruining the best thing in his life.
“You’re playing the worst hockey of your career,” Lucas points out. “You’ve been benched twice for lack of focus. Coach is talking about trading you if your performance doesn’t improve. Henrik, you’re a shell of yourself, and everyone knows it’s because you’re heartbroken over the journalist.”
“She hasn’t contacted me in two months,” Henrik says, and his voice comes out hollow. “I texted, I called, I showed up at her apartment twice and she wouldn’t even open the door. She’s done with me. I fucked up too badly and she’s moved on.”
“Have you actually fought for her?” Lucas challenges. “Or did you make one grand gesture that backfired and then just accepted defeat?”
“What else am I supposed to do?” Henrik asks, genuinely lost. “I chose her over the endorsement deal. I showed up at her work to prove I was serious. I’ve apologized a hundred times. She said she needs to think about whether love is enough, and I’m giving her space to figure that out.”
“It’s been two months,” Lucas says. “That’s not giving her space. That’s giving up. If you actually love her, if you actually think she’s worth fighting for, then fight. Don’t just make one gesture and quit when it doesn’t work. Actually show her you’re not going anywhere.”
“I don’t know how,” Henrik admits, sitting down on the locker room bench with exhaustion that’s more emotional than physical. “I don’t know what she needs. Every time I think I’m doing the right thing, I fuck it up worse. The grand gesture at her work made everything worse, not better. What if fighting for her just makes her hate me more?”
“Then at least you’ll know,” Lucas says. “Right now you’re stuck wondering ‘what if.’ You’re torturing yourself with maybes. Fight for her, get a definitive answer, and either you get her back or you actually start healing instead of just deteriorating.”
Henrik goes home that night and forces himself to actually examine his situation—he’s been giving Rory space for two months while his entire life falls apart, while his game suffers and his health declines and his happiness evaporates, and he’s calling it “respecting her needs” when really it’s just being too scared to actually fight for what he wants.
Lucas is right—he made one gesture and then gave up.
He’s not actually fighting.
He’s just waiting for Rory to come back while his life disintegrates.
That’s not love.
That’s cowardice.
If he actually loves her, if he actually believes they’re worth fighting for, he needs to do more than just apologize and wait.
He needs to actually show her he’s not giving up on them.
Henrik spends the next week figuring out what that looks like—not grand gestures that embarrass her at work, not dramatic declarations she didn’t ask for, but actual demonstration through actions that he’s changed, that he understands what went wrong, that he’s willing to do whatever it takes to fix things.
He starts therapy—not because Rory asked him to, but because he recognizes he has commitment issues from his father leaving that he’s been ignoring, trauma responses he’s never properly addressed, patterns of self-protection that sabotage relationships before they can fully develop.
He calls Rory’s voicemail—not to demand she talk to him, but just to leave messages about what he’s working on, what he’s learning in therapy, how he’s trying to become better than he was.
“I’m seeing a therapist,” Henrik says in one message. “Talking about my father leaving and how that affects my ability to fully commit. You were right that I have issues I didn’t want to acknowledge. I’m working on them. Not to get you back—though I desperately want you back—but because I need to deal with this shit regardless.”
In another: “I talked to my mom about the endorsement deal. About why I considered it. She said I’ve always been scared of being vulnerable because vulnerability means someone can leave you. Like my dad left her. Like you might leave me. She’s right. I’ve been protecting myself by not fully committing. I’m done doing that.”
And a third: “I understand now why the grand gesture failed. You don’t need dramatic proof that I love you. You need consistent showing up. You need me to actually listen to what you need instead of assuming I know. You need partnership, not performance. I’m sorry it took me this long to figure that out.”
He doesn’t expect responses to the voicemails and doesn’t get any, but leaving them feels important—feels like he’s actually trying instead of just wallowing, feels like he’s showing effort even if she never acknowledges it.
By week three of his actual fighting, Henrik’s game starts improving slightly—he’s still not performing at his previous level, but at least he’s showing up with focus instead of just going through motions, at least coach has stopped threatening to bench him.
Lucas notices the change. “Whatever you’re doing, keep doing it. You look more alive than you have in months.”
“Therapy,” Henrik admits. “And actually working on my shit instead of just being miserable about losing Rory. I’m still miserable about losing her, but at least I’m being productive about it.”
“Have you talked to her?” Lucas asks.
“I leave voicemails,” Henrik says. “Tell her what I’m working on. Don’t ask her to respond. Just want her to know I’m actually trying to be better.”
“That’s good,” Lucas approves. “Better than grand gestures she didn’t want.”
By week four, Henrik runs into Margot at the coffee shop where he’s been coming every morning because it reminds him of Rory and the conversations they used to have here back when things were good.
“Henrik,” Margot says, looking surprised but not hostile. “Hi.”
“Margot,” Henrik responds. “How’s Rory?”
Margot studies him for a long moment before answering. “Miserable. Same as you, probably. She’s been covering basketball and it’s fine, but she looks like someone going through motions instead of actually living.”
“Does she listen to the voicemails?” Henrik asks, hating how desperate the question sounds.
“Every one,” Margot confirms. “She won’t admit it, but I’ve caught her replaying them. She’s just too scared to respond. Too scared of being hurt again.”
“I wouldn’t hurt her again,” Henrik says immediately.
“You can’t promise that,” Margot points out gently. “You can promise to try, to do better, to work on your issues. But you can’t promise you’ll never hurt her. That’s not realistic.”
“Then what am I supposed to do?” Henrik asks, frustrated. “I’m in therapy, I’m working on my commitment issues, I’m leaving her voicemails showing effort, I’m trying to respect her space while also fighting for us. What else is there?”
“Keep doing exactly what you’re doing,” Margot suggests. “And maybe write her a letter. Not asking her to take you back. Just being honest about everything. How you feel, what you’re working on, why you think you’re worth another chance. Give her something tangible to hold onto when she’s doubting whether you’ve actually changed.”
Henrik goes home and spends three hours writing and rewriting a letter to Rory that tries to be honest without being manipulative, that acknowledges his mistakes without making excuses, that explains his therapy insights without demanding she care, that tells her he loves her without requiring she love him back.
He mails it to her apartment the next day and tries not to obsess about whether she’ll read it, whether it will make a difference, whether he’s doing enough to actually fix what he broke.
Two more weeks pass with no response, and Henrik’s starting to accept that maybe fighting for her isn’t enough, maybe some relationships are too damaged to save, maybe love requires more than just one person trying.
But then playoffs start and everything changes.
🔥
END CHAPTER 24
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