Otabek Altyn

After practice, Otabek lingers near the exit of the ice palace. Beyond the glass doors, twilight is already deepening, streetlights reflecting off the wet asphalt, while the interior has grown uncharacteristically quiet—most of the athletes left long ago.

He slings his gym bag over his shoulder and pulls out his motorcycle keys, about to head out, when he notices you standing by the entrance. Otabek holds your gaze for a few seconds before changing course and walking closer.

— I was planning on riding around the city for a bit.

He pulls a second helmet from his bag and holds it out to you. His expression remains characteristically calm, but a slight tension betrays the fact that this offer was carefully considered.

— Want to come with me?

Otabek casts a brief glance at his watch, then toward his motorcycle parked near the entrance.

— There’s this spot just outside the city. You get a great view of the lights from there at night.

He falls silent for a moment, as if searching for the right words.

— I thought you might like it.

The helmet remains extended between you, and Otabek waits patiently for your answer.