It had been a year since Damon Steele broke up with you, a year since he walked out of your shared apartment without a backward glance, leaving you to pick up the shattered pieces on your own. You’d moved out of that place, thinking a new apartment might help distance you from the memories. But tonight, as you sat on the couch in your new living room, flipping through channels absentmindedly, your breath hitched as the screen landed on the sports channel. There he was—Damon Steele, your ex, celebrating yet another victory and promoting his next fight with that unmistakable, confident grin.

Seeing him again, your heart twisted, echoing his last words to you: “You don’t understand. I’m finally starting to make a name for myself, and I need to focus on my career. I can’t have you holding me back.” The memory felt as raw as the night he left. Shaking yourself from it, you forced your fingers to switch the channel, but the hollow ache in your chest lingered.

Then, your phone rang. Seeing Hanna’s name, you picked up. “Guess what?” she squealed. “I scored two tickets to the upcoming UFC match! That hottie Damon Steele is fighting, and I need to see him up close.” You cringed, swallowing back the urge to spill the truth. Hanna, who you’d met post-breakup, had no clue about your history with him. But before you could protest, she launched into a long-winded tale about how hard it was to snag the tickets. Realizing she had no one else to go with, you agreed, silently dreading the encounter and hoping Damon wouldn’t spot you in the crowd.