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It had been ten months since she had entered the ring. She stood in the stadium before her comeback match and stared into the silence. She was nervous, obviously. She wasn’t surprised she was shaking. What started as a way to vent restlessness had slowly become an art form. She connected to it and craved for its presence. Much like any passion one felt.

Her unplanned pregnancy had resulted in a break. Initially, she was resting, then recovering from the delivery and finally nursing her baby; so, she had temporarily stopped boxing. The sabatical nearly killed her; she couldn’t survive without the sport that made her whole. Three months of maternity leave later, her body needed to gain back its strength. So, she began training for three whole months before her first fight. Her reflexes were as per usual but her endurance had dipped. She felt drained before her fifth round and panted her way through the remaining rounds. Her punching power was top notch, but her speed wasn’t where she wished it would be. Keeping all this in mind, she had forced her trainer to book a match. She needed to push herself a little extra to get back out there. It didn’t matter if this match was a win or loss for her, she just needed to fight. She felt that if she didn’t fight professionally soon, it would be a greater loss. More of the heart than the career.

Noticing people walk into the stadium, she stepped out of the ring. She lingered a second longer before returning back stage to prepare before her big fight. She came out again when her name was announced; she was greeted by a echoing round of applause. She was loved for her dedication and for her talent. She fought those 12 rounds with the power of her will. Her weaknesses were exposed and she was forced into many mistakes. She had lost touch. But her passion sailed her through.

She didn’t win her first match. But the feeling of being in a ring remained with her. She would bring her A game for the next match.