Mag-log inBut I knew better.She was whispering something.Probably “Congratulations.”But her lips brushed his cheek, and her eyes flicked sideways — locking onto me with a smirk that screamed challenge.The announcer called some bigshot of boxing, who handed Damon the WBC International Heavyweight Title, congratulating and praising him.The crowd roared.Cameras flashed.But my eyes were fixed on Annaida’s hand on Damon. The way she clung to him and the victory smile plastered on her face.A challenging look in her eyes.Mocking me.I felt small.As if I were nothing.Like I didn’t belong in this world of flashing cameras and designer gowns.Which was the Ultimate Truth.Alex, standing beside me, noticed. He placed a hand gently on my shoulder, trying to ground me, distract me.But it didn’t help.My gaze was locked on Damon.And Damon… he saw it.He saw the way my bright, glowing face dimmed.He saw the way I shrank beneath Annaida’s smirk.He noticed Alex’s hand on my shoulder.And somethin
PASTShefali's POV:I held him.Tears streamed down my face as I cradled Damon in my arms, his body trembling, blood dripping from his mouth, his skin bruised in shades of purple and red.He was broken.Beaten.But victorious.His trainer rushed over with the robe and a first aid kit, dressing the gash above his brow, wrapping his ribs. Damon winced but didn’t complain. He just kept his eyes on me, like I was the only thing tethering him to this world.Fedric Brunetti had already been rushed to the hospital. He hadn’t moved since the knockout.Damon kissed me quickly, his lips warm despite the blood still drying on his skin. I wanted to hold him longer, to shield him from the chaos, but before I could say anything, the medics stepped in.“He needs to be checked immediately,” one of them said, already guiding him away.Damon didn’t resist. He looked at me once — a glance that said everything — then let himself be pulled toward the medics. His body was swaying, his steps uneven.The rob
Brunetti struck first— a vicious right hook that cracked across Damon’s jaw, snapping his head to the side with a force that made the entire arena flinch.The sound of it echoed like a gunshot. Damon staggered, his footing faltering, but he didn’t fall. He steadied himself, eyes narrowing, and answered with a flurry of punches— jab, cross, a brutal body shot—but Brunetti absorbed them like a beast made of iron.He didn’t flinch.He didn’t bleed.He just smiled.They circled each other like predators, fists flying with lethal intent.Blood came early.Damon’s lip split open, a crimson line trailing down his chin. Then came the uppercut— savage, merciless —slamming into Damon’s jaw and sending him crashing to the mat.I screamed, my voice raw, my heart lurching into my throat.The crowd gasped in unison, a wave of shock rippling through the arena.But Damon rose.Too fast.Too proud.Blood smeared across his face, one eye already swelling shut. He didn’t look at the referee. He didn’t l
PASTShefali's POV:I was worried for Damon.I had seen how hard he trained— how relentless he became after our birthday.Even before that, his schedule was brutal: four hours of shuttle work, two hours of strength and conditioning, six to eight hours at the office, and then me.Always me.Taking care of me.Helping me.Loving me.And I felt guilty.Because somewhere deep down, I knew his life had become hectic because of me. After our birthday, he threw himself into training with a vengeance— sparring, footwork drills, speed bag, shadowboxing, endurance circuits, technique refinement.His trainer pushed him through everything: explosive power drills, core rigidity work, reaction timing, defensive slips, counterpunching, mental visualization. He was sculpting himself into the best version of a fighter— physically unbreakable, mentally untouchable.Alex took over most of the office responsibilities, handling meetings, contracts, logistics. Damon only stepped in for urgent decisions, si
Alex chuckled, “Damon’s been… quiet lately. Focused.”“Of course, he’s got a match to win,” I said. “Just a few days from now, isn’t it?”Alex’s expression shifted. “Yeah. About that… It's not really a final match. It is….”He sighed, leaning forward, voice dropping. “You know who he’s fighting, right?”I shook my head. “Not really.”“Fedrick Brunetti.”I still didn’t have any idea who that was or what that meant.Alex continued, “He’s Damon’s biggest rival. The only man who’s ever beaten him, during Damon’s earlier boxing career, and that defeat was nasty, brutal. Damon was hospitalised, his condition was severe. And Brunetti didn’t just win — he humiliated Damon. He is a nasty guy. Wicked. He would bend the rules for his victory.”Alex&rsqu
PASTShefali's POV:Morning crept in through the sheer curtains, casting soft golden streaks across the tangled sheets and our bare, exhausted bodies.Well, not exactly morning, it was almost noon.We hadn’t slept — not really.Just drifted in and out of each other, limbs entwined, hearts still racing from the night before. Damon stirred beside me, his arm heavy across my waist, his breath warm against my neck. Even in sleep, he held me like he was afraid I’d vanish.Eventually, by late noon, we pulled ourselves out of bed, laughing at how sore, sleepy and hungry we were. Hungry for real food. He insisted on helping me freshen up, and true to form, didn’t spare a single moment to keep his hands to himself.Even while washing up, he found ways to tease me — a kiss on the shoulder, a hand trailing down my spine, a whispered “I’m not done with you yet” that made me blush all over again.Brunch was quiet, cozy — just the two of us, sharing bites, stealing glances. I didn’t want it to end.







