THE UNBROKEN ROAD

The rhythmic pounding of fists against heavy bags filled the gym, a steady soundtrack of determination. Daniel stood in front of one, his hands wrapped tight, sweat dripping down his back. He was stronger now—not just physically, but mentally. Every punch he threw felt different, more controlled. More intentional.

Harris watched from the side, arms crossed, his usual unreadable expression in place.

"Speed's better," he said. "Footwork's improving."

Daniel exhaled, shaking out his arms. "Still not fast enough."

Harris smirked. "Never will be. There's always someone faster."

Daniel chuckled. "Motivating."

"Truth hurts." Harris stepped forward, grabbing the bag to still it. "But speed isn't everything. A good fighter doesn't just react. He reads."

Daniel nodded. He was learning that lesson every time he stepped into the ring with Jason. It wasn't just about throwing punches—it was about knowing when to throw them.

"Take a break," Harris said. "Then we'll go another round."

Daniel grabbed his water bottle and moved toward the benches. He was just about to sit when he heard the gym door open.

His body tensed.

It wasn't a fighter. It wasn't someone here to train.

It was Emily.

Unfinished Conversations

Emily stood in the doorway, her eyes scanning the gym before landing on him. She looked the same, but different—like she had aged years in just a few months.

Daniel's stomach tightened. He hadn't seen her since the funeral.

She walked toward him, her heels clicking against the worn floor.

Jason, who had been hitting the speed bag nearby, paused when he saw her. "Who's that?"

Daniel wiped his face with a towel, trying to steady his breathing. "Olivia's sister."

Jason nodded slowly. "You want me to stick around?"

Daniel shook his head. "I got it."

Emily stopped a few feet away, arms crossed. "So. This is where you've been hiding."

Daniel exhaled. "Not hiding."

She raised an eyebrow. "You don't answer calls. You don't respond to messages. What would you call it?"

Daniel swallowed hard. He hadn't been trying to ignore her. He just hadn't been ready.

Emily sighed. "I didn't come here to fight."

"Then why did you come?"

She hesitated. "Mom's selling the apartment."

Daniel's chest tightened. "What?"

"She can't keep it, Daniel. It's too much."

Daniel looked away. That apartment had been Olivia's home. Their home. The thought of it belonging to someone else—of it being emptied, erased—made his stomach twist.

Emily's voice softened. "I thought you should know."

Daniel ran a hand through his hair. "When?"

"Next month."

Silence stretched between them.

Then she asked the question he had been dreading.

"Have you even been back?"

Daniel clenched his jaw.

"No," he admitted.

Emily shook her head, disappointment flickering across her face. "I don't get it. You loved her. And yet, you can't even face where she lived?"

Daniel gritted his teeth. "It's not that simple."

"Isn't it?" Emily's voice sharpened. "You act like you're the only one who lost her. You're not. We all lost her."

Daniel exhaled, trying to keep his voice steady. "I know that."

"Then act like it." She stepped closer, her eyes searching his. "Come home, Daniel. At least once. Before it's gone."

Daniel didn't answer right away.

Emily sighed. "You're not the only one hurting."

She turned to leave, her footsteps echoing.

Daniel didn't stop her.

But he didn't sit down, either.

A Different Kind of Fight

Harris walked up behind him. "Heavy conversation."

Daniel exhaled. "Yeah."

Harris studied him. "What's stopping you?"

Daniel shook his head. "You wouldn't get it."

"Try me."

Daniel hesitated. Then, quietly, "It's the last place she was alive."

Harris nodded slowly. "And you think walking through that door makes it real?"

Daniel clenched his fists. "It is real."

"Maybe." Harris crossed his arms. "Or maybe you just don't want to let go of the past."

Daniel looked away. "It's not that simple."

Harris smirked. "You keep saying that, but it sounds pretty damn simple to me."

Daniel tensed, ready to argue. But Harris wasn't mocking him. His voice was calm. Knowing.

Like he had been here before.

"Running won't change what happened," Harris said. "Neither will fighting. But facing it? That's the real fight."

Daniel swallowed hard.

For months, he had convinced himself that moving forward meant never looking back.

But maybe Harris was right.

Maybe some fights had to be faced outside the ring.

Going Back

That night, Daniel stood in front of the apartment building.

The bricks were the same. The fire escape still rusted. But it felt different.

He hesitated before stepping inside.

The air smelled familiar. The hallway creaked under his feet, just like it always had.

His hands trembled as he reached the door.

He hadn't stepped through this threshold since the day he lost her.

His key still fit.

He turned it.

The door swung open.

And just like that, the past rushed back.

The couch. The bookshelves. The jacket she had left hanging on the chair.

He clenched his fists. His breathing was unsteady.

He took a step inside.

It hurt.

But he was still standing.

And for the first time in a long time…

He was ready to face it.