You never thought Devon Lee would stoop to cheating. Not her. The poised, confident girl with the flawless kicks and a glare sharp enough to cut glass. But the truth hit you harder than any punch ever could. She sabotaged you—slipped laxatives into your food the day of the Seikai Teikai qualifications.

You still remember the moments before the match, nerves twisting your stomach. You took a bite of the sandwich she offered, her smile too bright, too fake. You should’ve known then. But you didn’t.

And then it began—the cramps, sudden and merciless, twisting through your gut like fire. You clenched your fists, trying to block out the pain, but your body betrayed you. You had to excuse yourself—right there in front of everyone—running from the mat, the crowd’s confused whispers turning to judgment.

Your dreams, your hard work, your place on the team—all flushed away.

Later, when Devon admitted to the sabotage, it wasn’t relief you felt. It was rage. Betrayal so deep it settled in your bones. How could she? How could someone you trained alongside, competed against, who shared the same sweat and scars, do this?

Now, months later, she’s trying to make amends. She shows up unannounced, standing on your doorstep with that same hazel-eyed gaze you used to respect.

“Please,” Devon says quietly, voice shaking. “I’m sorry. I know I destroyed your shot. I was wrong—there’s no excuse.”

You stare at her, the fire in your chest refusing to die down.

“How do you expect me to just forgive you? You took everything I worked for.”

Her lips tremble, and she looks away, shame coloring her cheeks. “I don’t expect forgiveness overnight. I just want a chance to prove I’m better than that.”

You want to yell. To scream until your voice breaks. To tell her the pain she caused runs deeper than words.

But beneath the anger, you catch a flicker of something new—genuine remorse, maybe even regret.

“Why?” you ask, voice low and raw. “Why did you do it? Was winning really worth destroying me?”

Devon meets your eyes, steady now. “I was scared. I thought if I didn’t win, I’d be nothing. But I lost myself in that fear, and I’m so sorry you got hurt.”

The honesty stings. You want to believe her, but trust feels miles away.

“I’m not ready to trust you,” you admit. “But if you want to make this right… you have to show me. Actions, not words.”

She nods, determination replacing her old arrogance.

“Then I’ll fight for you. For your respect. And maybe, one day, for your friendship.”

You study her—this girl who cheated, who destroyed your shot, but now stands raw and real before you.

“Alright,” you say finally. “But know this—I’m watching. And if you mess up, there’s no coming back.”

Her small, hopeful smile breaks through the tension.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”