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Annika and I head back to her hotel room after the bar, but my mind isn’t with her. It’s stuck on Ryan. I’ve checked my phone a dozen times, hoping for a reply that never comes. He still hasn’t answered any of my texts, and it’s driving me insane. I want to be there for him, to help him, to touch him, but right now, he’s nowhere to be found.

Annika flops onto the bed, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Alright, spill. What’s going on with you? You’ve been acting weird all night.”

I bite my lip, trying to force a smile. “It’s nothing. Just… worried about Ryan.”

“He got smashed over the head with a chair a few hours ago, Natalie. He’s probably just recovering. Give him some space.” She rolls her eyes playfully. “Besides, I’m sure Travis wasn’t lying when he said Ryan likes to work out his frustrations alone after a loss. He knows you’re with me, he probably figures you’re out having a good time and he doesn’t want to interrupt that.”

“I know, you’re right.” I sigh, leaning back against the headboard. “I just... I want to be there for him, you know? He’s been through a lot, and I don’t know, I feel like things are… moving fast between us. I’ve never seen him get hurt like that, and its just killing me that I haven’t seen him after it happened.”

I stop myself before I spill too much. Annika doesn’t know the full depth of what Ryan and I have become. I’m not even sure I fully understand it. But it’s so much more than I expected.

Annika sits up, eyeing me carefully. “You really like him, huh?”

I shrug, not trusting myself to say anything without sounding panicked. Instead, I change the subject, forcing myself to sound interested. “Enough about me. What about you? Travis?”

Annika’s face lights up immediately, the tension between us melting away. “Oh my god, he’s so hot. Did you see him tonight? Those arms? That smile ?”

We fall into easy conversation; the kind of girl talk we used to have all the time before life got in the way. Annika gushes about Travis, her eyes sparkling as she talks about how good he looked tonight, how he winked at her when he came by our table. She’s so wrapped up in him that for a few moments, I forget my worries about Ryan. Its nice to see Annika so happy, it makes me realize how much I've missed here these past few months. She’s been my rock for so long.

But as the night drags on, and the conversation fades, the pit in my stomach returns. Ryan still hasn’t texted back. I toss and turn in bed, checking my phone every few minutes, fighting the urge to send him another message. I told myself I wouldn’t be that girl—the one who panics over every little thing. But here I am, panicking. I’ll see him in the morning, I tell myself. He’ll be at the arena for practice, just like always.

Morning comes too quickly. My alarm blares, and I groan, wanting nothing more than to hit snooze and bury myself under the covers. But the thought of seeing Ryan is enough to drag me out of bed. I shower and get dressed, curling my hair in soft waves. I scribble a note for Annika, letting her sleep in, and grab an Uber to the arena.

The energy in the hallways crackles—voices overlapping, hurried footsteps echoing against the polished floors. Crew members dart back and forth, shouting last-minute instructions, while wrestlers move with purpose, gearing up for the chaos of the week ahead. The air smells of sweat, coffee, and the faint rubbery scent of the mats from the training area.

I hover near the entrance, my pulse quickening as my eyes scan the sea of faces, searching for Ryan. But he’s not here.

A familiar voice cuts through the noise.

“Looking for Ryan?”

I turn to see Travis striding toward me, his easy grin in place, as if he already knows the answer.

I nod, chewing on my lip. “Yeah. Have you seen him?”

Travis shakes his head. “Not yet. He had a meeting this morning, but he’ll be here soon. You know Ryan—always on time.”

“Right.” I force a smile, but it feels weak, hollow. “If you see him first, can you tell him to find me?”

“Will do.” He gives me a reassuring nod before disappearing into the crowd.

I exhale, trying to shake the unease curling in my stomach. Ryan being late isn’t a huge deal, but it’s off . He’s methodical, always a step ahead. After everything that happened, I expected—no, needed —to see him first thing today. To have that moment where his eyes find mine, where he reassures me in that silent, unshakable way he does.

But he’s not here.

Maybe he really does need space. Maybe I should stop overthinking.

Still, the gnawing feeling won’t let up.

I turn down the hallway toward my office, but the sharp sound of laughter makes me freeze mid-step.

Chrissy.

She’s leaning against the wall, talking to another woman I don’t recognize, her voice thick with amusement, exaggerated like she wants to be overheard.

“I guess some people just don’t know their place,” she says, drawing out the words like honey laced with poison.

A slow, twisting dread unfurls in my chest.

I should walk away . Ignore her. But my feet stay planted, my breath held tight in my lungs.

Then she drops the hammer.

“You know, Ryan knew exactly who to call last night after his little loss. Poor guy. Needed someone to help him lick his wounds.” She sighs, feigning sympathy. “Guess things with the little massage girl fizzled out already. You know Ryan—he loses interest fast .”

Her laughter rings out, shrill and pointed.

The words slam into me, sharp as glass.

My stomach drops. A cold, numbing sensation spreads through my limbs. No.

Ryan wouldn’t—

Would he?

He told me I belonged to him. That I was his .

I believed him.

And yet, doubt sinks its claws into me, dragging me down, suffocating me under the weight of her words. I feel unsteady, like the ground beneath me is suddenly untrustworthy, shifting under my feet.

I don’t wait to hear more. I push past them, my vision blurring as I shove open the door to my office. The second it closes behind me, my knees give out, and I collapse against it, my breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps.

The tears come fast, hot and relentless, slipping down my cheeks as I bury my face in my hands.

I feel stupid .

Stupid for letting myself believe in something that might not have been real. Stupid for thinking Ryan could feel the same way I do.

What am I feeling?

Hurt.

Broken.

Betrayed.

I don’t know .

All I know is that my heart aches in a way it never has before, and for the first time since Ryan stormed into my life, I wonder if I was nothing more than a passing moment to him.

And I don’t know how to survive that.