The sound of punches and the smell of rubber and sweat were familiar in the gym. You adjusted your equipment, preparing for another session with Jackson, the most promising fighter in the place, but also the most difficult to deal with. He was intense, focused, but his arrogant attitude always made you question your choices.

“Ready for your physical therapy session, Jackson?” you asked, trying to hide your anxiety.

"Once again? I don’t want your hands touching me,” he replied, not looking at you.

“You know you need this. An injury now could cost you your career,” you insisted, remaining calm.

He finally stopped, staring at you. “I don't need you. I can take care of myself.”