Perfect timing, perfect angle, everything I'd trained to do. She looked at Rachel and all I could think was that none of that mattered if somebody got carried out because of it. Rachel said quietly, "Was she okay eventually?" Maya nodded. She recovered.
Did she blame you? No. Did anyone? No. Maya's laugh was small and empty. That would have been easier. Rachel understood.
You blamed yourself. Maya looked away. Daniel walked to the heavy bag nearest them and steadied it with one hand. Maya won that night. He looked at Rachel 23 and zero, then at Maya, and she hasn't competed since.
Rachel looked at the bracelet again. I thought it was a trophy. Maya shook her head. It used to be. Daniel let go of the bag.
It was never supposed to be. Maya frowned. Daniel stepped toward her. I gave you that bracelet after the 23rd fight because you were obsessed with the number. I remember.
No, you remember what you thought I meant. He tapped the bronze disc gently. 23 and zero never meant 23 people you beat. Maya's eyes lifted to his. It meant 23 times you walked into a room with the ability to hurt somebody and accepted responsibility for what your hands could do.
The words landed hard. Maya looked down. Daniel continued when it was the smallest part. Rachel stayed silent. Daniel's voice softened.
That night with Tessa did not prove you were dangerous. Maya swallowed. It felt like it did. It proved the work was real. He pointed toward her hands.
And real skill has consequences. That's why discipline matters. Maya's eyes glistened, but she did not cry. Daniel did not move closer. He knew her well enough not to.
You think not fighting Lauren means you're afraid of yourself? He said. Maya said nothing. I think it means you remembered. Maya looked at him.
Remembered what? Responsibility. The studio was very quiet. Outside a city bus groaned to a stop at the corner, then pulled away. Rachel looked at the old photographs again.
Maya turned. If Lauren knew all this, she doesn't. If Evan knew, he doesn't. Daniel looked at Maya. Maybe that's not the question.
What is whether you still know who you are without them knowing? Maya looked toward the heavy bags. The nearest one swayed slightly in the warm air. For the first time in 7 months, she stepped onto the training floor. Not far, just one step, then another.
She stopped in front of the bag. Her hands remained at her sides. Daniel watched. Rachel watched. Maya lifted one hand.
Not to strike, she placed her palm against the worn leather. The contact alone pulled a breath from her chest. Memories came. Training after work. Sandra sitting on a folding chair with coffee.