Veronica - Fight Night

Fight night arrived after the strangest week of training I’d ever experienced.

Every day, I trained Ellie’s friends and sparred with her, demonstrating the combinations that supposedly exposed my weaknesses. I let a petite girl like Ellie put me in trouble, feigned trembling legs, hesitated at the right moments, and made every flaw look painfully real.

It was all an act. Veronica had to believe she could beat me.

She watched every session while Ellie whispered advice in her ear, showing her the combinations that would supposedly bring me down.

I had to it, Veronica was better than I’d expected. Knowing she’d face me seemed to bring out something fierce in her. In just a few days, her footwork sharpened, her defense improved, and her counterattacks grew more precise. Everyone helped her, not just Ellie.

My girlfriend kept me informed of their plan: how they intended to knock me out, which weaknesses they were exploiting, and how deliciously humiliating it would be to watch Veronica’s fists bring me to my knees. How much I want it more then anyone else.

Slowly, my mind began to believe it more and more—that I was heading toward another crushing defeat, even though it was impossible.

Meanwhile, Ellie and I worked on making me look as unprepared as possible. I ate and slept poorly, trained less, and spent most of my time coaching others. Every little detail had to sell the illusion that my body was no longer capable of what I could once do.

Then, finally, fight night arrived.

A ring stood in the middle of the gym. Ellie would referee, and we’d ed the match on the league’s official app, with a robotic camera ready to record every second. At Veronica and Ellie’s request, only their most trusted friends had been invited.

Ellie took the microphone. “In the blue corner, ranked 117th: Jack!” I stepped forward in blue shorts and the same soft gloves Ellie had given me. Yet another disadvantage that no one would notice.

“And in the left corner, ranked 687, the stunning goth force, the woman with an unbeatable spirit, Veronica!”

The exaggeration was intentional. All of this was to boost Veronica’s self-confidence. Everyone was cheering for her and booing me—even my girlfriend. But I expected it; that was the point.

I crossed the ring wearing my usual intimidating scowl. Veronica met my gaze with a mixture of hatred and fierce determination. In this gym, she was the only one who truly saw me as an opponent.

But beneath that fire, I spotted her nerves: a slight tremble in her lips, a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes.

I leaned closer as we touched gloves. “You’re not woman enough to beat me.”

Ellie had told me to be ruthless, to strike directly at Veronica’s feminist pride. The remark worked better than expected. Her expression stiffened, but no comeback came.

For a moment, she simply stared at my gloves. Ellie stepped between us and sent us back to our corners. A few seconds later, the bell rang.

“BOX!”