THE UNBROKEN ROAD

Daniel returned the next evening, his muscles stiff and aching from the run. Every step reminded him of how out of shape he was, how far he had let himself fall. But despite the pain, he showed up. Because for the first time in a long time, he had something to show up for.

Harris was waiting, leaning against the ring ropes as if he had all the time in the world.

"Figured you might quit," Harris said, tossing Daniel a fresh roll of hand wraps.

Daniel caught them and started wrapping his hands, his fingers still fumbling but better than the night before. "I don't quit," he muttered.

Harris raised an eyebrow. "No? Then why'd you let life beat you down for a year?"

Daniel froze. His jaw tightened, his hands pausing mid-wrap. The truth of it stung.

Harris sighed, stepping closer. "Listen, Mercer. Everyone gets knocked down. It's what you do after that matters. You ready to start fighting back?"

Daniel exhaled and nodded. "Yeah."

"Good. Then let's see what you can take."

The First Fight

Harris led Daniel to the ring. The gym was nearly empty, just a few regulars hitting bags or skipping rope in the background. Daniel climbed in, gripping the ropes to steady himself.

Opposite him stood a younger man, maybe mid-twenties, lean but solid. He had the confidence of someone who'd been in the ring before.

"This is Jason," Harris said. "He's going to teach you something today."

Daniel narrowed his eyes. "What exactly?"

Harris smirked. "How to take a hit."

Before Daniel could react, Jason's fist snapped forward.

Pain exploded in Daniel's jaw, and before he knew it, he was on the canvas. The world blurred.

He heard Harris sigh. "Get up."

Daniel groaned, tasting blood in his mouth. His body screamed at him to stay down.

But something inside him—something buried deep—forced him to push himself up onto his hands and knees.

"Again," Harris said.

Daniel wiped his mouth, forcing himself to his feet. His legs wobbled, but he steadied himself.

Jason moved in again, slower this time, his fists raised. "Keep your hands up," Harris called out.

Daniel barely managed to get his arms up before Jason's next punch landed. It wasn't as clean as the first, but it still sent a jolt of pain through Daniel's ribs.

"Good," Harris said. "Now hit him back."

Daniel clenched his teeth and swung. It was sloppy, and Jason dodged it easily. But Daniel saw something shift in Harris's expression.

He tried again. Missed.

Jason countered, jabbing Daniel in the ribs. He gasped but stayed standing.

"Again," Harris called.

Daniel threw another punch. This time, it connected—barely. It wasn't enough to do any real damage, but it was something.

And for the first time in a year, Daniel wasn't just taking hits. He was fighting back.

Aftermath

After what felt like hours, Harris finally called it. Daniel collapsed onto the bench outside the ring, his body screaming in protest.

Jason grinned, offering him a fist bump. "Not bad for your first time."

Daniel barely managed to return it, his knuckles aching.

Harris handed him an ice pack. "Hurts, doesn't it?"

Daniel pressed it against his ribs and groaned. "You think?"

Harris chuckled. "Good. Means you're waking up."

Daniel exhaled, staring at the ceiling. Every muscle in his body throbbed, his jaw still stung, and he could already feel the bruises forming.

But beneath all the pain, something felt… different.

Like maybe, just maybe, he was still alive after all.