“You’re lucky you didn’t need surgery,” the doctor said. I just nodded, adjusting the brace on my arm. It was still a shock to hear it out loud. I’d been so scared it would come to that.
Now I was just trying to figure out how to live with the injury while still doing everything I loved. “I flew back to Manila because my dad is being treated in Singapore,” I explained. “They removed the mass. They’re confirming it with a biopsy.
It’s GBM. ”
“He’ll probably be fine,” the doctor said kindly. I hoped so. I really did.
Then Cat walked in. My husband’s wife. His actual wife. The one he’d never mentioned until after we started dating.
“Hi, I’m Cat,” she said, smiling like we were old friends. I smiled back. “I know. I ride with your husband.
I know your Nina. ”
“Nice to meet you,” she said warmly. “Thank you for lending me your husband for the day. ”
I forced a laugh.
“He said I could ride, but with great caution. Very careful. I just do dressage now. No jumping.
”
“No jumping,” Cat agreed. I looked at my husband, who was pretending to be deeply focused on adjusting my brace. “Make sure this is always in between,” he said, fiddling with the straps. “This lines up with this one.
”
“Thank you, doc,” I said. “Bye-bye. Take care. ”
Once we were alone again, I let out a breath.
“I got in trouble, man. I really got in trouble. ”
He looked at me. “What did you do?
”
“I was punching the bag when I wasn’t meant to be. I thought I was helping myself. I guess I wasn’t. ”
He shook his head.
“You never listen. ”
“I know. I was wrong. I’ll wear the brace from now on.
”
We moved to another part of the gym. I stretched, trying to ignore the dull ache in my shoulder. He watched me, then asked, “You did taekwondo? ”
“Yeah.
My parents put me in taekwondo when I was six or seven. I was a delinquent. I kept acting out at home. They thought it would teach me discipline.
”
“What belt were you? ”
“Brown. I ended at brown belt. ”
“You should go back,” he said casually.
“Retest for it. ”
I laughed at the idea. “It’s like a dance. You have to memorize all the moves.
I’d have to train hard for that. But honestly, if I’m fit and healthy again, I’m down. ”
I looked at him for a moment. Here we were, in a gym, talking about my childhood, about my injuries, about my plans.
And all I could think about was Cat. His wife. The woman he’d chosen to marry. The woman who had just thanked me for lending her husband.
“You know,” I said slowly, “learning how to fight actually made me more of a pacifist. ”
“Really? ”
“Yeah. Because I knew what I was capable of.
I never wanted to hurt anyone unless I had to. ”
He nodded, but I wasn’t sure he understood what I was really saying. That I wasn’t going to hurt him. That I wasn’t going to hurt her.
But I also wasn’t going to pretend anymore. I thought about my plans. I wanted to go back to LA. I wanted to bring my friend Rhea with me, maybe connect with Cheyenne, who does MMA.
I wanted to make more content, to train again, to find my old taekwondo shoes and see if I could still move like I used to. But first, I had to figure out what I was going to do about him. About the man who said he loved me but never told me he was married. About the wife who thought I was just a friend from the riding ring.
I stretched my legs, feeling the familiar tightness in my hamstring. I thought about the sciatica that flares up when I sit too long. About the weight I lost after my injury. About all the things I’d fought through to get here.
I looked at my phone and started a stretch routine video. I smiled at the girl on the screen. She helped me get through my worst days. Now I was going to get through this one too.
But when I looked up at my husband again, I knew this wasn’t over. For now, I’d keep stretching. I’d keep smiling. I’d keep pretending the good news from the doctor was enough.
But I was already planning my next move. And he had no idea what was coming.
