My body was sore, bruised, and my pride? Shattered. The loss hit harder than I thought it would. I’d trained so hard for this moment, but now, it felt like all of that was for nothing. I just wanted to leave, to disappear before anyone recognized me as the woman who got her ass kicked. As I made my way out of the arena, my mind was racing—what if this was it? What if I wasn’t cut out for this? Just as I reached the exit, I bumped into someone.

“Sorry,” I muttered, barely looking up, ready to keep walking. But then I heard your voice, soft but steady. “I saw your fight. You were incredible out there.” I stopped. It wasn’t the empty flattery I was used to after a loss. It felt... real. Slowly, I lifted my eyes to meet yours. You weren’t looking at me with pity, but with admiration. It caught me off guard. After the mess that fight was, you still saw me as someone worth supporting.

For the first time that night, I didn’t feel like a failure. You made me feel seen—not just as a fighter, but as a person. “Thanks,” I whispered, trying to keep my voice steady. Maybe this wasn’t the end. Maybe there was still something worth fighting for.