The Hockey Star’s Remorse

Chapter 115

Chapter 115 TIMOTHY POV

Timothy sat at the ornate dining table, his eyes drifting around the opulent room. The transformation of his family’s financial situation was nothing short of

miraculous. They had gone from struggling with poverty to dining in a mansion that seemed to scream of excess and luxury.

Timothy, though still reluctant to be there, couldn’t help but be curious about how his father, Kamran, had managed to amass such wealth after years of struggling with finances. The lavish surroundings, the expensive artwork adorning the walls, and the extravagant meal were all in stark contrast to the modest life they had led when Timothy was a child.

Kamran had always been a hardworking man, but their previous financial struggles had left deep scars. The fact that that any money issues just evaporated for them. left Timothy slightly stunned.

The family dinner, however, was far from elegant. Sitting across from him, his older brother, Andy, couldn’t resist the opportunity to make snide comments. He hadn’t even known Andy would show up, and the night would have been slightly more tolerable if he hadn't.

“Remember when you used to play hockey, little brother?” Andy said with a condescending smile. “Unless you're still doing that?”

Timothy's jaw clenched, and he took a deep breath, trying to keep his composure. He had heard these jabs from Andy before, but they never failed to sting.

He responded with a controlled tone, “I still play.”

Kamran, who had been mostly silent during the exchange, finally chimed in, his disapproval evident. “Your mother, the poor woman, always encouraged that silly. hobby. Look where it got us.”

The mention of his mother, Lydia, who had been battling cancer for years, struck a nerve in Timothy. He had shared a special bond with his mother, who had always. believed in him and his love for hockey. It had been her unwavering support that had fueled his determination to succeed.

Timothy kept his voice leveled as he spoke, “My ‘silly’ hobby kept food on the table 1/5

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and a roof over our heads, Dad. Don’t forget that.”

“Timothy,” Kamran began, his tone flat, “you can’t hold on to your little fantasies. forever. There comes a time when you need to get serious about life.”

Timothy's jaw clenched at the implication. He had dedicated years of his life to the sport he loved, and he’d nearly lost it all in the past couple of months. Kamran perceiving that as a hobby was still daunting to him.

He cleared his throat, speaking with a firm resolve. “Dad, | appreciate your offer, but you know how much hockey means to me. It's not just a game; it’s a part of who | am.”

Kamran’s gaze bore into his son, a mixture of disappointment and frustration in his eyes. “Timothy, you have a future here, within the family company. My offer still stands. You could have stability, security.”

But Timothy wasn’t ready to let go of his dreams. The roaring crowds, the feeling of the ice beneath his skates, and the camaraderie with his teammates were still fresh in his mind. Not to mention, Evie’s determination granted him the ability to continue.

“Dad, it’s my passion,” Timothy stated. “Not some boring office job.”

Across the table, Andy couldn’t resist taking a dig at Timothy’s expense. As always. “Yeah, Timmy, you're really throwing your life away to wave a puck around on the

ice.

The anger surged within Timothy, his fists clenching involuntarily beneath the table. He had faced skepticism and criticism throughout his hockey career, but it hurt most when it came from his own family.

“| didn’t throw my life away, Andy,” Timothy retorted, his voice tight with frustration. “Hockey has taught me discipline, teamwork, and perseverance. It’s given me a purpose.”

Andy, however, was undeterred. He leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips. “Well, what's it given you now, huh? A bunch of dumb scandals and jerseys?”

sweaty

Timothy's anger flared, and he felt the urge to lunge at his brother, but he knew that arguing at the dinner table would only escalate the situation further. He took a

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deep breath, trying to regain his composure.

“| may not work in a suit like you,” Timothy began, gritting his teeth, “but that doesn’t make what | do any less important. People travel miles just to watch what |

1. do.

Stella had been mostly silent throughout the meal, but now she leaned in, her tone gentle yet persuasive. “Timothy, maybe it’s time to consider your father’s offer. You could still find success and stability within the company.”

Timothy's patience had worn thin, and Stella’s suggestion felt like another slap to the face. He couldn’t bear the thought of giving up on his dreams, especially not

for them.

Suddenly she leaned in, a playful smile on her face. “You know, Timothy,” she said. sweetly, “maybe a baby would help you settle down and see things differently.”

Timothy's temper flared at her suggestion. “Don’t even entertain that thought, Stella,” he snapped, pushing his plate away.

He abruptly stood up from the table, his chair scraping against the floor. He needed to escape the suffocating atmosphere of the dining room, if only for a moment. As he stormed

His family’s disapproving gazes and loud protests followed him as he stormed out of the dining room and walked out into the cool night air. There was a small sense of relief as he stepped onto the mansion’s expansive porch. Their harsh jabs bounced around in his head, obscuring his own thoughts.

As he gazed out into the darkness, Timothy couldn't help but wonder if there was a way to reconcile his love for hockey with the expectations of his family. His mother may have been proud of his success, but perhaps the conflict from that had thrown a bigger rift in their family?

Even if Timothy made the sacrifice for his father, would he be less of an outcast?

As he paced back and forth by his car in the driveway, the door to the mansion. swung open, and Stella hurried out, her high heels clicking on the pavement.

“Timothy, wait!” Stella called out, her tone a mix of frustration and desperation. “Dinner isn’t over.” Timothy had no intention of returning to the stifling atmosphere inside. He

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turned to face her, his anger still smoldering. “I’m leaving, Stella.”Text property © Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org.

Stella’s eyes widened in panic. She stepped closer to him, her voice pleading. “You can’t just leave me here, Timothy! You're my ride.”

Timothy scoffed, his irritation growing. “What difference does it make to you? You can find your own way home.”

But Stella was not about to let him walk away so easily. She took a step closer, her voice firm. “You need to go back in there and accept your father’s offer. It’s the right thing to do.”

Timothy's patience had reached its breaking point. He had already been bombarded with his family’s expectations and judgments, and now Stella was adding to the pressure. “What do you know about what's right for me, Stella?” he snapped.

Stella’s hands balled into fists at her sides. “You're making a big mistake, Timothy. You don’t know what you're doing.”

Timothy's eyes bore into her. “Sure. Are you getting in, or what?”

Stella’s face flushed crimson with indignation. She clenched her jaw, her eyes. narrowing at him. Finally, with an exasperated sigh, she stormed over and slid into the passenger seat.

The engine roared to life, and Timothy peeled out of the mansion’s driveway, tires screeching in protest.

As the car sped away from the mansion, Stella continued to berate him. “You're throwing away everything, Timothy. Your family, your future, all because of some misguided notion of freedom.”

Timothy's grip life, and | won the steering wheel tightened. “It's not misguided, Stella. It's my life, and | won't let them control it any longer.”

Stella’s voice grew even angrier, her words like a verbal assault. “You could start earning millions, Timothy. Joining your father’s business could cement your

success.”

Timothy's knuckles turned white as he fought to maintain control of the car. “I don’t want their business, Stella. | want my own dreams.”

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As the heated argument escalated, Timothy’s attention wavered for a split second. It was all Stella needed. With a sudden burst of determination, she lunged for the steering wheel, her hands grappling for control. The car swerved violently, tires screeching as it spun out of control.

“Stella, what the hell are you doing?!” Timothy shouted in panic, struggling to regain control of the vehicle.

But Stella was resolute, her fingers locked onto the wheel. “You need to go back and accept the deal, Timothy! You're being stupid.”

Timothy's heart pounded in his chest as he wrestled with Stella for control of the car. The wheels churned up dirt and grass as the vehicle veered dangerously off the road, heading straight for a deep ditch.

With a final, desperate effort, Timothy managed to wrench the wheel away from Stella’s grip, but it was too late. The car careened off the road, crashing through the underbrush and plummeting into the ditch with a deafening crunch.

The impact sent both Timothy and Stella jolting forward, their seatbelts straining against the force of the collision. The world seemed to spin around them as smoke and dust filled the air.

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