Updated Mar 22, 2026 • ~9 min read
Chapter 28: Going Viral
POV: Rory
Rory – GOING PUBLIC
Rory’s planning to go public about her relationship with Henrik on social media Monday afternoon—coordinated posts with tasteful photos and carefully worded captions about dating someone she used to cover professionally—when Henrik completely derails that plan by making a spontaneous declaration on live television during his post-game interview after the Frost’s regular season finale.
She’s watching from her apartment because she’s no longer covering hockey and doesn’t have press credentials for the game, and she’s drafting her Instagram caption when the TV broadcaster asks Henrik about his performance improving dramatically in the final month of the season.
“What changed for you, Henrik?” the interviewer asks. “You’ve gone from struggling significantly to some of your best hockey of the season. What’s different?”
Henrik looks directly at the camera with an expression that makes Rory’s stomach drop because she recognizes that look—that’s his determined face, the one he wears when he’s made a decision and is going to execute it regardless of consequences.
“Her,” Henrik says simply. “Rory Castillo. The woman I’m in love with. She’s what changed. I was playing terrible hockey because I was miserable without her. Now I’m playing better because we’re together again and I’m happy. And I don’t care who knows. I love you, Rory. You’re watching this at home probably writing some carefully crafted social media post about us, and I’m just going to say it on live TV instead—I’m in love with you and I’m done hiding it.”
The interviewer looks shocked, the camera operator is clearly scrambling to figure out if they should cut away, and Rory’s sitting on her couch with her mouth open because Henrik just declared his love for her on live television in front of thousands of viewers and probably every major sports outlet in the country.
Her phone starts buzzing immediately—Margot calling, probably Lucas and half of Henrik’s teammates texting, her editor most likely having a heart attack about the journalist he recently transferred who apparently was dating a player while covering him—and Rory ignores all of it to keep watching Henrik on TV.
“That’s quite a declaration,” the interviewer manages. “And Rory Castillo—she’s the Tribune journalist who used to cover your team?”
“She is,” Henrik confirms, looking pleased with himself. “We met under complicated circumstances, fell in love despite professional conflicts, spent months navigating ethical concerns and trust issues and our respective trauma responses, and now we’re together. And I wanted to tell everyone publicly because hiding her doesn’t feel right anymore. She matters too much.”
“Does she know you’re doing this?” the interviewer asks, clearly trying to figure out if this is romantic or insane.
“She does now,” Henrik says with a grin, waving at the camera. “Hi, sweetheart. I know we planned social media posts for tomorrow but I couldn’t wait. I wanted the whole world to know I’m in love with you.”
The interview ends and Rory’s still staring at her TV while her phone continues buzzing with messages, and she’s somewhere between laughing and crying because Henrik just went completely off-script and announced their relationship on live television like some kind of romantic comedy protagonist who doesn’t understand that real life has consequences.
But also… it was kind of perfect.
Ridiculous and dramatic and absolutely not what they planned.
But perfect in its honesty and spontaneity and complete lack of careful calculation.
Her phone rings again—Henrik this time—and Rory answers with “You’re insane. You know that, right? Completely insane.”
“I couldn’t wait,” Henrik defends. “I was supposed to give some standard answer about performance improving and instead I just thought about how much I love you and how I don’t want to hide it anymore and the words came out before I could stop them.”
“You declared your love on live television,” Rory says. “Do you have any idea what you’ve just done? Every sports outlet is going to be running this story. My editor is probably furious. Your PR team is definitely having a crisis meeting. This is going to be everywhere.”
“I know,” Henrik says, and he sounds completely unconcerned. “But Rory, I meant every word. I love you. I don’t want to hide it. And yeah, going public on live TV probably wasn’t the most strategic choice, but it’s how I felt and I’m done overthinking everything.”
“You’re supposed to be the responsible one,” Rory argues, but she’s smiling despite herself. “I’m the chaotic journalist. You’re the calculated athlete. When did we switch roles?”
“When you ran from the press box to the medical area during a playoff game,” Henrik points out. “That was pretty chaotic and not at all calculated. I think you’ve been rubbing off on me.”
“I can’t believe you did this,” Rory says, pulling up Twitter on her laptop to see that #HenrikAndRory is already trending, to see clips of his declaration being shared thousands of times, to see sports journalists and hockey fans having collective meltdowns about the revelation. “We’re everywhere. The whole internet is talking about us.”
“Is that bad?” Henrik asks carefully.
“I don’t know,” Rory admits honestly. “It’s terrifying and exposing and way more public than I was ready for. But also… it’s kind of amazing? Like you love me enough to just spontaneously declare it on live TV without worrying about consequences. That’s either incredibly romantic or incredibly stupid.”
“Can it be both?” Henrik suggests.
“It’s definitely both,” Rory confirms, and then because she’s watching the clip replay for the third time and seeing the genuine emotion on Henrik’s face: “I love you too, you dramatic Swedish idiot. And since you’ve already made this public, I might as well say it properly.”
She opens Instagram, posts a photo of them together from last weekend when they went to dinner with Lucas and Elena, and captions it: *Apparently my boyfriend decided to announce our relationship on live TV instead of waiting for our coordinated social media posts. So yes, I’m in love with Henrik Andersen. Yes, I used to cover him professionally for the Tribune. No, I don’t cover hockey anymore specifically to avoid that conflict of interest. And yes, I’m fully aware he’s a dramatic idiot who declares love spontaneously. I love him anyway.*
She posts it and immediately gets thousands of likes and comments—some supportive, some questioning her journalism ethics, some just excited about the hockey gossip—and her phone rings again with her editor’s number.
“Jim,” Rory answers, bracing for the reprimand.
“Just got about fifty calls asking about my reporter dating a player she used to cover,” Jim says, and he sounds more amused than angry. “Care to explain?”
“I’m in love with Henrik Andersen,” Rory says. “Have been for months. Which is why I requested reassignment to basketball. I knew it was a conflict of interest and I addressed it by changing beats. And I’m sorry Henrik made this public on live TV instead of letting me handle it more professionally.”
“You requested reassignment before this got public,” Jim observes. “That shows professional integrity. And you’re not covering hockey anymore, so technically there’s no current conflict. Castillo, I’m not happy about learning this from live television, but I appreciate that you handled it ethically by requesting transfer instead of just hiding the relationship while continuing to cover him.”
“So I’m not fired?” Rory asks.
“You’re not fired,” Jim confirms. “Though I expect you to handle any future romantic entanglements with athletes more discreetly. And maybe communicate with your boyfriend about not making declarations on live TV without warning you first.”
“I’ll work on that,” Rory promises, and after they hang up she’s laughing because she still has her job, still has Henrik, and somehow navigated this entire situation without destroying her career or her relationship.
Henrik shows up at her apartment an hour later—still in his suit from the game, carrying flowers that he probably bought at the grocery store on the way here, looking both sheepish and proud of himself.
“I’m sorry for going off-script,” Henrik says immediately. “I know we planned to do it differently. I just couldn’t hold it in anymore.”
“I know,” Rory says, pulling him inside and kissing him properly. “And it’s okay. Dramatic and chaotic and definitely not what I would have chosen, but okay. Because you meant it. Because you love me enough to just spontaneously announce it to the world. Because you’re done hiding.”
“We’re public now,” Henrik says. “Really public. The whole internet knows we’re together. Your colleagues know. My teammates know. Our families know. Everyone knows.”
“How does it feel?” Rory asks.
“Terrifying,” Henrik admits. “But also amazing. Like I can finally just be with you without worrying about who’s watching or who might find out. Like we actually get to be a normal couple publicly.”
“We’re definitely not a normal couple,” Rory points out. “Normal couples don’t start with drunken one-night stands and pregnancy scares. Normal couples don’t spend months navigating professional conflicts and trauma responses. Normal couples don’t go public via spontaneous live TV declarations.”
“We’re better than normal,” Henrik argues. “We’re us. Complicated and messy and figuring it out as we go. And I love that about us.”
They spend the evening dealing with the fallout of going public—Henrik talking to his PR team who are surprisingly supportive, Rory fielding calls from journalist friends who want the full story, both of them posting additional photos and comments to their social media accounts, answering hundreds of supportive messages from fans and friends.
By midnight they’re exhausted from being public and just want to be private, and they lie in Rory’s bed scrolling through reactions together.
“Do you regret it?” Henrik asks. “The way we went public?”
“No,” Rory says honestly. “I would have chosen something more controlled, more professional. But this is very us—spontaneous and dramatic and completely lacking in careful planning. And I kind of love that we can’t do anything the conventional way.”
“Me too,” Henrik agrees. “Though maybe next time we have a major relationship milestone, I’ll run it by you first instead of just spontaneously announcing it on television.”
“That would be appreciated,” Rory says. “Though knowing us, we’ll probably find some equally chaotic way to do whatever comes next.”
“Probably,” Henrik agrees, and he kisses her with the kind of contentment that comes from finally being able to be together publicly, from not having to hide or code-switch or pretend they’re anything other than two people deeply in love.
They’re public now.
The whole world knows.
And somehow that makes everything feel more real.
🔥
END CHAPTER 28
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