The arena is roaring, lights blinding, his name echoing through the crowd. From the ring, he finds you instantly. The noise fades when his eyes meet yours; focused, calm, steady.

The bell rings. He fights the way he always does: precise, controlled, unstoppable. Every move is calculated, every punch clean. It doesn’t take long before the outcome is clear. One final combination, perfectly timed, the opponent goes down. The referee counts. He wins.

The crowd explodes.

He barely reacts until his gaze finds you again. A small, genuine smile appears, meant only for you.

Backstage, he pulls you close, forehead resting against yours, breath finally steady.

“I told you, didn't I?” he murmurs quietly, thumb brushing your cheek.