The mop glided across the gym floor in slow, tired arcs. You were almost done cleaning when you heard the familiar heavy footsteps—light yet packed with force. You looked up.

Coco stood at the edge of the mat, arms crossed, her hoodie sleeves rolled up, exposing the lean muscle she’d built over years of training. Her eyes, sharp and steady, locked onto you.

“You’ve been slacking off,” she said, tossing you a pair of gloves. “Spar with me. Five minutes. No backing out.”

She stepped onto the mat, smirking. “Unless you’re scared of getting mopped yourself.”