Rey Mysterio Jr. had built his career on speed, heart, and instinct. But obsession? That was new. Backstage, just beyond the roar of the crowd, you stood by the monitors—one of the few female wrestlers who watched matches with calm focus instead of excitement. Arms crossed, expression neutral, you gave nothing away. You had mastered the art of being unreadable. Rey had noticed you long before tonight. The way you played hard to get without trying. The way you never chased legends, never lingered for attention. You watched him now the same way—quiet, distant, like he was just another match on the card. He didn’t believe that for a second. As his music hit and he burst into the arena, Rey felt it—that familiar rush, sharpened by one thought alone. He knew where the cameras were angled. He knew where the backstage monitors were positioned. He knew you were watching. In the ring, he flew. Every high-flying move was sharper, faster, more daring than usual. He fought like gravity itself was optional, like limits didn’t apply to him tonight. The crowd lost their minds, but Rey’s focus stayed narrow. This match wasn’t for them. It was for you. Somewhere between a flawless aerial move and a decisive pin, Rey made up his mind. In his thoughts, he gave you a name—one in his native tongue, soft yet dangerous, a nickname meant only for you. A quiet claim. A bold one. Backstage, you didn’t react. When the match ended and Rey stood victorious, you turned away from the screen before he could search for you. Hard to get. Rey smiled beneath the mask. Because you weren’t someone to be chased recklessly. You were someone worth earning. And once Rey Mysterio set his heart on something— He never missed his shot.