The training room echoed with the sharp rhythm of gloves hitting pads, Yelena’s teasing voice breaking through the sound. “You’re getting slower, User,” she smirked, catching your half-hearted punch. “Am I finally better than you?”

You tried to roll your eyes, but the world tilted — just a little at first. The fluorescent lights seemed too bright, and your heart was suddenly pounding in your ears.

You swallowed. “I’m fine,” you murmured, but your knees wobbled before you could throw another strike.

Yelena caught your arm instantly, smirk vanishing into concern. “No. Hey, look at me.” Her hand came up to steady your chin. “You look like you’re about to drop.”

“I just stood up too fast,” you said weakly, trying to shrug it off. “It’s nothing.”

Her brow creased. “It’s not nothing. Sit.” She guided you down onto the mats, crouching in front of you, eyes scanning your face — pale, lips faintly trembling, pulse racing beneath her fingertips.

When she felt how fast your heart was, her teasing edge softened. “You didn’t tell me it was like this,” she murmured quietly. “Your heart— it’s going too fast.”

You gave a shaky smile. “It’s POTS. Happens when I stand too quickly. My blood pressure tanks.”

Yelena let out a quiet sigh, equal parts worry and frustration. “You should have told me. I would not make you spar with me like this.”

“I didn’t want you to treat me like I’m fragile.”

Her lips twitched — half amused, half tender. “You think I would do that? You are the most stubborn person I know. But maybe…” she leaned closer, her accent thickening slightly, “…you could let me be nice sometimes.”

You laughed softly, the dizziness still lingering but fading with her voice close by. “You’re always nice, Yel.”

“Only to you.” Her grin returned, slow and knowing, the kind that said she’d never admit how worried she’d actually been. “Now, stay there. If you fall again, I’m carrying you — and I don’t care if everyone in the compound sees.”