The Unexpected

Chapter 32

**Author's Note!**

I know this is late, I lied! I'm sorry, I know I said this would be published on Sunday and today is Tuesday but, if it helps, I made this chapter double the length of a normal one to make up for it- and packed full of fluff! I hope you like it (God know I do), enjoy!

January 15th, 2029- Eleven Months Later- Three Years Old-

Yuri's POV- 1st Person

After far too much delay, I step out onto the ice, turning back to the entrance as soon as I do. I shouldn't be this nervous, I know that, but I can't help it. Today's the first time we're going skating together as a family, which means that today is the first time Sacha will be going on the ice. As much as Otabek and I are determined not to force her into skating, we can't help but be excited at the prospect of seeing her do so. It sounds awful to force a three-year-old onto a cold, hard, slippery surface with little more than knives on her feet, but all we really want to do is share something we love so much with her. Even if she hates skating, even if she never wants to do anything related to it, it feels wrong not to introduce her to something that's occupied the majority of our lives until a few years ago. And, hopefully, if she enjoys today, we'll have fostered a love of skating in her that she'll keep for the rest of her life.

As we're not sure how she'll react, we've decided that we'll stay for half an hour, and, if she hates it, leave and try again in a few months. It'd been difficult to find rental skates small enough to fit her and even more so to persuade ourselves into using rental skates to begin with. It's against our principles as figure skaters, it's like oil and water: we do not mix. But we resigned ourselves to the fact that there's no point in buying her skates, knowing that in all likelihood she'll outgrow them and have only used them once. Still, though, I can't shake the feeling of unease that grows in the pit of my stomach at the sight of her wobbling in the hand-me-down barely-maintained contraptions. But, I imagine, that can be put down as pure parental fear; it seems that since she was born it's become impossible not to worry. 

She'll be fine though, I assure myself. Between Otabek and myself, there's no way she'll end up getting hurt. Right?

"Careful!" I cry as Otabek hands her off to me, letting me hold her up while he mounts the ice as well. Gently, though maintaining a firm, vicelike grip, I carry her, letting her little skate-clad feet brush the ice without supporting any weight.

At three years old Sacha's very advanced for her age, both physically and mentally. She can ride a tricycle, identify and tell a familiar story, and is running circles around us with the childlike energy that never seems to run out. 

I kneel down beside my daughter, and, keeping her upright, allow her small legs to bear her own weight. She stares at the ice and gives her foot an experimental kick, seeming shocked by the sensation of the other one gliding out from under her from the force of the momentum.

Grabbing the walker my husband gives me, I place it beneath her, her hands at once gravitating to the sleek metal bar and holding on. Carefully, I stand up once more, holding her close to me as she gets her balance. This continues for a few minutes before, slowly, cautiously, I take my hands away, leaving her balancing on the ice with only the aide of the walker. Both Otabek and I watch her carefully, equally terrified that she'll fall and get hurt. Even after having her for three years, I still see her the way I did when we first brought her home from the hospital: tiny, fragile, and far too precious for this world, though I doubt that last one will ever change

Coming in front of Sacha, and grabbing her walker, Otabek pulls her forward slightly, very slowly and deliberately, trying out the motion. Sacha gasps in awe as her feet glide smoothly across the ice, watching mesmerized as she moves without exerting any effort. I don't remember my first time on the ice very clearly, but I can guess what she's feeling: like she's flying, moving so naturally the sensation must rival that which birds possess when taking flight.