Bada's body ached from the bruises, but even as she pressed her ribs and nursed her swollen face, her mind was consumed by Saeles. Each strike, each shove, each cold glare had left a mark—not just on her body, but on her heart.
Her friends tried to reach her, calling her to hang out, to rest, to eat, but Bada waved them off with shaky smiles and watery eyes. They didn't understand. How could they? They hadn't seen Saeles train, hadn't felt the pull in their chest that made Bada's tears fall even as she was beaten.
She limped toward the house again that afternoon, dragging her feet but refusing to stop. Every step was painful. Every breath was ragged. And yet, she whispered under her breath, clinging to the one thought that kept her moving:
"I… I have to see her… I have to… I'll never leave…"
When she crouched behind the lamppost and peeked inside, she saw Saeles hitting the bag with relentless fury, blood seeping through the tape on her knuckles. Her heart ached so deeply she could barely breathe.
"I… I just want to help… I just… I want to be near her…"
Even as tears slid down her cheeks, even as her body shook in pain, she refused to move. She was trapped in a cycle of fear, devotion, and obsession she could not escape.