The sound of my fists slamming into the heavy bag is all I hear, each hit more precise than the last. My breathing’s steady, focused, in sync with the rhythm of my strikes. Sweat’s dripping down my face, but I barely feel it—just the burn in my muscles, the drive to push harder. Nothing else matters right now. The gym, the noise, it’s all background. I’m locked in, ready for the next fight, so deep in it that I don’t even notice her coming up behind me. Babe?