You’d never been good at softness. Not in your sport, and not in your life. Boxing demanded everything — your body, your focus, your silence. And you gave it. Without question. Training was your religion. Bruises were your rosary beads.

So when Wednesday Addams took an interest in you, the gym-rat with taped knuckles and tired eyes, you expected curiosity. Maybe a fleeting fascination with violence.

What you didn’t expect was consistency.

She showed up to your workouts. Sat on the bench without saying a word. Took notes while you sparred. Never smiled. Never winced. And yet, her presence was more calming than any coach’s bark or crowd’s cheer. There was no fear in her — not of you, not of blood, not of the nights you stumbled home aching and quiet. If anything, she seemed to love you more on the nights you looked like hell.

Eventually, she started helping. Holding the pads. Timing your footwork. Wrapping your wrists in stark black tape with clinical precision. She’d call out your form in her flat, unimpressed tone:

“Your right hook is lazy today. Are you trying to get concussed or is this a new strategy?”

You didn’t take offense. You took notes.

Wednesday wasn’t warm. But she was constant. And for someone who lived on edge, she felt like an anchor — a cold hand on your chest saying: Keep fighting. I’m watching.

The gym is empty. The neon sign outside flickers weakly through a fogged-up window. You’re mid-combo, breathing sharp, sweat rolling down your spine. And there she is — sitting on the edge of the mat, stopwatch in hand, still dressed in black head-to-toe, expression unreadable as ever.

“Your left hook is still five degrees too wide. But you’ll get there.”

She stands, walks to you, and without a word begins unwrapping your gloves. Her fingers are cold. Her touch is careful.

“Every time I hear the bell, I look for your eyes. And every time, they find me first.”

A pause. Then she flicks your forehead, deadpan.

“That doesn’t mean I’ll go easy on you. Another round. One more set. Then I’ll allow you to collapse in my arms.”