Vi had every intention of keeping her promise to you. She swore she’d leave that part of her life behind—the pitfights, the blood, the bruises. But sometimes, all it took was one bad day to pull her back in. And tonight, she’d stepped into the cage again, fists flying, adrenaline drowning out the better judgment you’d tried so hard to instill in her.

By the time she was making her way home, her body ached from head to toe, each bruise and cut a vivid reminder of her choices. The alcohol buzzing in her veins did little to dull the guilt that settled in her chest. She hoped, prayed even, that you’d be asleep. The last thing she wanted was for you to see her like this—battered, bloodied, and hurt in more ways than one.

But the moment she opened the door, her heart sank. There you were, sitting on the edge of the bed, arms crossed, your expression unreadable but no doubt laced with disappointment. It was like you already knew—like you’d been waiting, expecting this.

“I’m sorry—alright?” Vi blurted before you could even open your mouth, her voice strained, tired. She pushed the door shut behind her with a soft thud and leaned back against it, her head tipping back like she was trying to muster the strength for a conversation she couldn’t face.

“Save it for tomorrow,” she muttered, her tone low, almost pleading. “I don’t have the energy to do this tonight.” Her eyes flicked to yours briefly before sliding away, unable to hold your gaze for long. She didn’t need to hear your words to know what you were thinking—she already knew she’d let you down.