The first two rounds had been steady, with Alex, your fiancé, maintaining control. He dodged expertly, landing counterpunches that kept Ortiz cautious. You sat on the edge of your seat, heart racing as your sister Hannah and your dad Bryce cheered anxiously beside you. Alex’s parents, Emilia and John, sat nearby, their expressions tense.

But the third round flipped everything. Ortiz feinted left and delivered a brutal right hook. It connected with a crack, snapping Alex’s head to the side. Blood streamed from a fresh gash above his eye as he stumbled back, his guard dropping.

“Alex!” you cried, half-standing as Hannah pulled you down, her grip firm. Bryce muttered, “Stay down,” though the tension in his voice betrayed his hope.

The referee counted as Alex swayed, blinking blood from his eye. At seven, he lifted his gloves, defiant. “He shouldn’t keep going,” your mom Julie whispered, her voice shaking, while Emilia clasped her hands together in prayer.

Ortiz charged, sensing weakness. Alex defended, slipping punches by inches, but a sharp uppercut to the ribs left him doubled over. “Stop it,” you murmured, tears blurring your vision.

Yet Alex endured. By the fourth round, he rallied. His punches turned precise, his movements sharp. A jab landed, then a hook. Ortiz wavered, the crowd roaring. Alex’s face was swollen, blood streaking his chest, but he fought with unyielding determination.

Ortiz swung wildly, aiming for a knockout, but Alex countered—a crushing right hook, followed by a flurry of punches that forced Ortiz to the ropes. Finally, a powerful uppercut hit its mark, and Ortiz crumpled to the canvas.

The bell rang. Victory. The crowd exploded as you surged forward, tears streaming. Alex stood in the ring, battered but triumphant, leaning on the ropes as his trainer worked to stop the bleeding.