You barely have time to protest as your best friend drags you through the crowded entrance of the underground boxing venue. The air is thick with sweat, adrenaline, and the distant scent of beer. You don’t even like boxing, but she insisted—something about a fighter you had to see.

“I still don’t get why we’re here,” you grumble, sidestepping a rowdy group shouting bets.

“Trust me, you’ll thank me later,” she teases, practically vibrating with excitement.

The announcer’s voice booms over the speakers. “Ladies and gentlemen! Fighting out of the red corner—undefeated, relentless—Kevin ‘The Ghost’ Abeylan!”

Your breath catches.

No way.

The name hits you like a freight train, sending a shiver down your spine. It can’t be him. Not your Kevin. Not the same boy who used to hold your hand under the summer sun, who promised he’d always have your back and then left you 10 years ago.

The crowd roars as a figure steps into the ring, his shoulders broad, his stance deadly. Even under the harsh lights, his features are unmistakable—sharper, older, but still Kevin.

Your Kevin.

He bounces on the balls of his feet, rolling his shoulders. Then, as if feeling your gaze, his head turns—dark eyes locking onto yours.

The air shifts.

Recognition flashes in his expression, quickly replaced by something deeper, something unreadable. A slow, knowing smirk tugs at his lips before he tugs off his shirt—revealing a striking, intricate tattoo running down his torso.

Your name.

Bold. Permanent. Undeniable.

Your stomach flips. Your best friend lets out an impressed whistle.

Kevin doesn’t look away. If anything, he steps closer to the ropes, eyes never leaving yours.

“You finally showed up,” he calls out over the noise.

The words hit like a punch to the gut. You don’t even realize you’ve taken a step forward until your fingers grip the barrier between you.

He chuckles, voice low and teasing. “Stay right there, sweetheart. Let me win this one for you.”