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**TEN MONTHS LATER**

Nasseem

I t was championship belt night. And I could feel every second of it. I could hear my heartbeat louder than the crowd. That ain’t never happened before. Usually, I tune all that shit out. Let the noise become static. But not tonight. Tonight, I felt everything.

I felt the weight of ten years of pain, of struggle, of lessons. The sting of my brother’s betrayal.

The ache in my chest from buryin’ a piece of me I’ll never get back. But also…I felt the light that came with Egypt. The hope she gave me. The love that forced me to look at myself and choose better.

I was minutes away from the biggest fight of my career, the one that could change everything.

And even though I was surrounded by my team—Reg, my cut man, my trainer, my nutritionist—it wasn’t until I turned to the side and saw Egypt holding my hands that I remembered what I was fighting for.

She looked like peace. Like home. Like every prayer I never said out loud.

She was in a black dress with thigh high boots and a black jacket with her curls slicked back into a high bun.

She had on light makeup and the only jewelry she sported was her engagement ring.

It was minimalistic for someone like her, but even in the bare minimum she was still the baddest in the room.

We stood in the locker room, hands clasped, foreheads pressed together.

“I’m proud of you,” she whispered. “No matter what happens in that ring, you already won to me.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I ain’t losin’, baby. Not with you watchin’.”

She smiled, even as her eyes glassed over. “Then go get what’s yours and bring that belt home.”

We prayed, like we always did. I kissed her on the lips, slow, deep, like it might be the last—and watched her walk out to take her seat ringside. I exhaled, rolled my neck, cracked my knuckles. It was showtime.

My walkout started and the lights dimmed. The crowd inside Allegiant Stadium roared like a tidal wave as 2 Much 2 Handle by Lux LA blasted through the speakers. I came out mean-mugging, hood over my head, focused. The air was thick with electricity.

Khalil’s entrance was flashier. Pyro, dancers, A Milli by Lil Wayne blasting loud. The whole arena shook for him. But I wasn’t moved. I knew what was comin’. I knew what I was about to do.

Round one, he came out fast. I matched his energy, jabs, feints and quick footwork. Every time he thought he had me, I slipped left or pivoted just out of reach. This wasn’t just muscle memory. This was strategy.

Round three, he clipped my jaw and rocked me hard.

I stumbled back for half a second and heard Egypt scream my name from the crowd and tell me to shake it off.

It locked me back in. I fought like a man possessed, because I was.

I was fightin’ for everything they said I wasn’t worthy of. The girl, the glory, the gold.

In round eight, I saw him getting tired. That’s when I turned it up. Started workin’ the body. Hooks, uppercuts, combinations. Left-right-left-right, crisp, it was calculated and vicious.

By round twelve, we were both bleeding, bruised and damn near broken.

But I wanted it more. And I got it. With twenty-three seconds left in the twelfth round, I landed a right hook from hell followed by a brutal left uppercut.

Khalil’s knees buckled. His mouthpiece flew out and he dropped.

Just like that, like he wasn’t an over 200lbs man, more like a rag doll.

The arena erupted. I couldn’t hear nothin’.

Not the ref countin’. Not the bell ringin’.

Not even the crowd goin’ crazy. All I saw was Egypt.

Crying and screaming. Standing up, her hands to her face.

I fell to my knees and threw my head back, breathin’ in all of it. The title. The redemption. The peace.

They placed the belt in my hands and I held it high for the world to see. But my eyes were lookin’ for her. Seconds later, she was in the ring, climbin’ through the ropes, fallin’ into me.

“I’m so fuckin’ proud of you,” she whispered in my ear.

“I love you,” I whispered back. “Forever.”

The cameras surrounded us, the ring announcer handed me a mic, and I said my peace.

“I couldn’t have done this without my family. My team. My brothers. And shoutout to Egypt—my fiancé—whose album Uncovered is still at the top of the R this was about to be straight fuckin at least for now.

I rubbed my dick, stroking it to life. Her moans stiffened my dick even more, each savory taste of her pussy igniting my tastebuds into overdrive.

She was familiar, sweet and mine. Finally, when I knew she was about to cum, I pulled my tongue from between her walls and instead thrusted my dick inside of her walls, allowing them to swallow me.

“Oh fuck.” I groaned holding still for just a moment while I savored the feeling. I leaned down and placed a kiss on her lips, allowing her to taste herself on my tongue before I moved my hips, stroking in and out of her with so much ferocity, so much longing, so much passion.

Soon the room was filled with her voice calling to the heavens, calling to God, calling out for me to go faster, slower, to fuck her so good.

I watched my dick disappear in and out of her, coated with her gooey cream.

I felt her squeezing my dick, fuckin me back from below and wrapping her legs around me, pullin my nut from my dick like an erupting dam.

Our eyes found each other’s as we slowed our breathing, basking in the moment.

A quiet heaviness exuded around us. We had come a long way since our first time here.

We had denied feelings, pretending this was less than what it really was.

We went through losses and pain with each other.

And I knew, with everything in me, that I’d fight a thousand more wars just to come back to this; to her, to us.

As I leaned in to kiss her, slow and deep, I whispered against her lips, “We made it, baby.” And this time, there was no tragedy waiting for us on the other side. There was only love, only peace, and only forever. And what more could either of us ask for?