Knockout
"She boxes at the local gym—only woman in the Somali class, tired of being underestimated. He's the new coach who pushes her harder than anyone else. Training becomes tension. Tension becomes something that hits harder than any punch."
"Again."
Coach Nasir doesn't go easy on me.
"I've done fifty—"
"Do fifty more." He holds the pads higher. "You want to compete, you work."
I hit harder. Faster. Until sweat blinds me and my arms scream.
"Better," he says finally.
He treats me like the men.
No coddling, no adjustments. Just work.
"Why'd you start boxing?" he asks one night, after everyone's left.
"I was tired of being small."
"You're not small." He looks at me. "You're the toughest person in this gym."
"Including you?"
"Especially me."
Training becomes personal.
Extra sessions. Just us. The gym dark except for the ring lights.
"Your guard drops when you're tired," he says.
"Yours drops when you're close to me."
He freezes. We both know I'm right.
"We shouldn't do this."
He says it with his hands on my waist, my back against the ropes.
"Do what?"
"This." But he doesn't move. "You're my fighter. This is..."
"This is inevitable." I pull him closer. "We've been fighting it for weeks."
We stop fighting.
In the ring where he's trained me. On the mat where I've fallen a hundred times.
"Nasir—"
"I've wanted this since your first session."
"That was six months ago."
"I've been counting every day." He pushes into me. "Every round. Every punch. All leading here."
We make love like sparring.
Give and take. Push and pull. Neither willing to surrender.
"You're incredible—"
"We're incredible." I match his rhythm. "We always were."
He corners me in my first real fight.
Professional. His voice in my ear between rounds. His hands fixing my gloves.
I win by knockout.
"You did it," he says.
"We did it."
In the ring, in front of everyone, he kneels.
"Marry me. Be my partner outside the ring too."
I say yes.
The crowd goes wild.