Semua Bab Royalty College : Bab 41 - Bab 50

The gym smelled sharper than usual this morning—sweat, chalk, leather. The kind of smell that told you something serious was about to happen.Collins wrapped his hands slowly, every motion deliberate, trying to drown out the ache in his ribs. Double sessions were chewing him up alive, but he refused to show it. Not to Coach. Not to Curtis. Not to anyone.Musa sat beside him, bouncing his leg like a kid on too much sugar. “Today’s the day, bro. I can feel it.”“Feel what?” Collins muttered.“Coach is gonna stop pretending you don’t exist. I’m telling you, he respects you. He’s just too grumpy to admit it.”Collins snorted. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”The whistle blew, and sparring rotations began. Fighters paired off, gloves lacing, the sound of fists cracking against pads filling the air.Coach paced like a hawk, eyes sharp, saying nothing. Just watching. Always watching.When it was Collins’s turn, Coach barked, “Curtis. You’re up with him again.”Curtis grinned like Christmas c

the atmosphere backstage was a mix of frantic energy and stiff competition. Students huddled in groups, adjusting fabrics, whispering nervously about their designs. Aalia stood by her model, trying to keep her hands steady, but inside, her heart was hammering against her ribcage.She hadn’t expected the sabotage to sting so much. Every moment she spent in the studio after had felt like a fight. A fight against Vanessa’s shadow. A fight against herself. But now, with the spotlight about to hit, all of it felt so small.Just focus on the fabric. On the work.Her model, a tall and graceful figure, stepped forward as Aalia adjusted the hem for the last time. The deep emerald green shimmered under the harsh stage lights, and Aalia felt a rush of pride she hadn’t anticipated.This is mine. This is me.“Five minutes,” the stage manager called again.Aalia’s fingers clenched around the fabric of the gown. She tried to breathe, steadying herself. But the words from Jeffrey lingered in her mind

The gym smelled like iron and sweat, the air thick with the sound of leather gloves smacking into pads. Morning light cut across the ring, turning every floating dust speck into glitter. But there was nothing pretty about the way Collins felt.Every muscle in his body ached. His ribs throbbed from Curtis’s hits, his shoulders screamed from endless push-ups, and his legs felt like lead. But Coach didn’t care.“Again!” the old man barked, slamming his clipboard against the post.Collins gritted his teeth, gloves raised. He was sparring against two fighters at once this time, both bigger than him, both relentless. Sweat blurred his vision, but he forced himself to move, slipping one jab, blocking another, throwing a desperate right hook that barely landed.“Too slow!” Coach shouted.A punch slammed into his stomach. Collins doubled slightly but refused to fall. His lungs burned, his knees wobbled.Stay up. Stay up.He thought about the showcase the night before, about the way Aalia’s dre

The victory still lingered in the air, like the echo of applause that refused to fade. Students in the hallways nodded at Aaliah as she passed, some even stopping to congratulate her. For the first time since she’d stepped into Royalty College, she wasn’t invisible.She should’ve been thrilled.And yet, every compliment felt like a pebble tossed into water—rippling outward, drawing unwanted attention.Because if she could feel it, then so could Vanessa.Aalia sat in the fashion studio later that week, quietly sketching designs in her notebook. The hum of sewing machines filled the air, scissors snipping, fabric rustling. She tried to lose herself in the flow, in the comforting scratch of pencil against paper.But the door creaked open, and silence swept the room like a storm.Vanessa.She walked in like she owned the place—heels clicking, hair flawless, eyes scanning until they locked on Aalia.Aalia kept her head down, pretending to focus on her sketch. But her pulse betrayed her, qu

The gym was silent in the early morning, too early for most fighters. The faint buzz of the fluorescent lights overhead mixed with the faint smell of sweat that never left the place. Collins’s shoes squeaked softly against the floor as he walked in, gloves dangling from his shoulder.Coach was already there, standing by the ring, arms crossed, his expression carved from stone. Curtis leaned lazily against the ropes, smirk already plastered across his face like he’d been waiting just to laugh at Collins.“You’re late,” Coach barked.Collins glanced at the clock. “It’s six on the dot.”“Exactly,” Coach shot back. “Which means you’re already late.”Curtis snickered. “Told you, rookie.”Collins ignored him and climbed into the ring. His ribs still throbbed from yesterday, his shoulders stiff, his knuckles raw under the tape. His whole body screamed enough. But “enough” wasn’t an option anymore.Coach paced in front of the ropes, clipboard tucked under his arm. “State’s three weeks away. T