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The hotel room smells like antiseptic and leftover energy drinks. I drop my bag by the door and slump onto the edge of the bed, heart still pounding from the Chamber. I should be celebrating. I am celebrating. I won. I punched my ticket to WrestleMania. But even with the adrenaline still buzzing in my veins, my chest feels heavy.
I pull out my phone and scroll until I see her name. Iyo. She texted me congratulating me amongst others. But seeing her text warmed something in me. “Congratulations mami!! I knew you could do you! We’ll have to celebrate on Monday❤️”
I smile softly. Probably my most genuine smile since we lost the titles.
Well since I lost the titles. I’m the one who got pinned. Even though every time I apologize iyo says “we lost the titles. we’re a team.” She doesn’t show it much but I can see she’s upset. I think it’s because she knows I had the elimination chamber the next day and she didn’t want me to dwell on it.
I’ve lost a lot in my career. Titles come and go. Matches are won and lost. But this is different. Because losing the titles might mean losing what I’ve built with iyo.
I look back down at my phone seeing her contact. I hesitate, thumb hovering. Do I call? I don’t know if I’m ready for her voice, or for what comes after. But I do it anyway.
“Hey, congratulations I knew you could do it!” Her voice is soft, tired. But still cheerful as always.
“Hey,” I say, fumbling with the hotel room key card in my hand. My voice sounds too loud for the quiet room. “You watched?”
There’s a little laugh. “Of course. I wouldn’t miss it no matter how tired I am. Especially after you said you would win it for me.” She teased.
I chuckle, because that’s Iyo. Always light, even after a brutal match. But the warmth in her tone, god. it makes something twist in my chest.
“Yeah. I—I won,” I admit, words catching in my throat. “For you like I said I would.”
“Rhea… I never doubted that you couldn’t do it.” she whispers, and I swear I can hear her smile through the phone. “I knew you could.”
I slump back into the bed, thumb tracing the edge of the phone. “Thanks… I just… I wish you were here. I mean, it’s great and everything, but—” My voice falters, because the words I want to say aren’t simple. I wish you were here. I don’t want to be without you. I like you. I swallow it down. I can’t.
“I wanted to be there more than anything but… you know how things are in this company.” she says, frustration lacing her tone. I can almost see her, that cute pout on her pink lips, hair falling over one cheek, eyes narrowed just enough to show she’s serious.
“But… next week you’ll be on smackdown right?” Iyo says softly, and there it is. The words land like a punch I didn’t see coming.
I freeze, thumb hovering over the edge of the phone. SmackDown. Raw. Separate shows. Weeks maybe months of not seeing her. My stomach twists, my chest tightens. I swallow hard. This is fine. It’s fine. She’s not leaving me. She’s not… But my brain doesn’t let me finish.
“I… yeah,” I say, voice too quiet, fumbling with the hotel key card in my hand. My own words feel hollow. I know, but knowing doesn’t make the weight in my chest go away.
There’s a pause. Iyo probably notices it, that tiny hitch in my breathing. “You okay?” she asks, gentle. Her tone carries that warmth that always makes me feel safe, like nothing else exists but her.
“Yeah… yeah, I’m fine,” I lie. Not because I want to, but because I don’t trust myself. I don’t trust my words. Every time I’ve let myself feel something, every time I’ve let someone close, it’s ended with betrayal. Or me doing the betraying. I can’t… I can’t risk it. Not with her.
“I’ll see you Monday,” Iyo says, playful but soft. “Don’t keep me waiting too long, mami.”
My chest twists again. Mami. She says it so casually, like it’s nothing, but to me it means everything. My fingers tighten around the phone. I want to tell her tell her how much I’ve missed her, how much I care, how much it scares me that we’ll barely see each other. But I can’t. If I do, I’m afraid I’ll ruin it. If she doesn’t know, maybe I won’t.
“I… okay,” I mutter instead, voice cracking just slightly. “I won’t keep you waiting.”
“You better not,” she teases, and I can hear the smile in her voice. My heart stutters. I imagine her lips, that dimple, her red hair catching the light. I can’t—no, I won’t say any of it.
We end the call, and I stare at the phone in my hand. My chest feels like it’s made of stone, my stomach twisted. The adrenaline of the Chamber has faded, replaced with something heavier. Something I can’t fight with strength or power.
I think about the people in the past I’ve trusted and lost, friends and partners I’ve hurt, mistakes I can’t undo. I think about Iyo, about how much I care, about the tiny moments she makes me feel seen and safe. And I realize… I don’t know if I can trust myself to not ruin this.
So I sit there, alone in the hotel room, clutching my phone like a lifeline, heart aching in a way that no match, no title, no crowd could ever fix. And I tell myself, quietly:
If she doesn’t know… maybe we won’t lose what we have.
But the thought doesn’t make the weight lift. It only makes it heavier.
It was Monday and I’m just now done getting ready to go the arena when I hear a knock on my hotel door that makes me frown. I wasn’t expecting anyone.
I walk to peephole to see a head full of red hair. “Iyo?” I call, voice tighter than I want.
“Open up, mami,” she says from the other side. There’s that teasing lilt, but it’s softer than usual. Something about it makes my stomach twist.
I unlock the door and swing it open. She’s standing there, red hair messy from the cab ride, one hand on her hip, the other tucked into her hoodie pocket. She’s smiling but there’s worry in her eyes that I can’t ignore.
“Hey,” I manage, trying to sound casual, but it comes out more breathless than I planned.
“Hey,” she says back, stepping in before I can stop her. The door shuts softly behind her, muffling the hallway noise. The room suddenly feels smaller, tighter, like we’re the only people in the world.
I swallow hard. “I didn’t expect you—“
I wanted to see you before the show.” She interrupts gently. “I haven’t seen you since Friday and I missed you.” She lets out a huff as she jumps and sits on my bed.
“I… I missed you too.” I sit beside her, leaving more space than usual, and I can feel my chest tightening with every second. She notices immediately, tilting her head like she always does when something’s off.
“Hm, you did?” she asks softly, voice low, teasing—but gentle. My stomach twists. Why am I so affected by something so small?
Iyo shifts slightly on the bed, leaning back on her hands, and the faint scent of her shampoo hits me. My pulse spikes, my palms grow warm. I want to reach out, close the space between us, but my brain screams don’t mess this up.
“I—yeah,” I manage, voice quieter than I want. I stare at my hands resting in my lap, fingers fidgeting with the edge of my hoodie.
“Well, how do feel now that you’ve won elimination chamber. Also you’re going to be fighting Jade, that’s new” I stiffen slightly, my hand tightening around the edge of the hotel bed, because the words she just said are harmless enough, but my brain refuses to focus on anything other than her. Jade. SmackDown. The names blur together as the thought of being away from Iyo consumes me. I want to shout, scream, something—anything to let her know that the last thing on my mind is any match or opponent.
“Uh, I’m excited,” I hear her say, but my mind’s already foggy. “You know, something new.” She hums and nods, completely unaware of the storm brewing inside me, and it makes my chest ache. Something new… yeah, something new. Like being apart from you.
“Yeah also smackdown. It’s going to be full time now.” She says and I close my eyes and take a deep breath, trying to calm myself, trying to focus on anything but the fear of the separation. Big mistake. The second I inhale, it’s like I’m breathing her in, and her scent sweet, faintly floral, comforting and intoxicating all at once wraps around me. My lungs feel too small, my heart too big, and I can’t stop the sudden rush of heat crawling up my neck.
Different shows. Different cities. Not practicing together. Not seeing her face before a match, not hearing her laugh when I screw up a line in the locker room.
I’ve grown attached to her over the past year more than a friend should. More than I expected to be capable of. And that scares me. I’ve been hurt before. I’ve done the hurting, too. I know, rationally, I would never do anything to hurt her on purpose, but knowing that doesn’t stop the thoughts. The what-ifs. The fear that if I let myself fall completely, I’ll ruin everything between us.
I can’t trust myself not entirely. Not with my own emotions. I feel them heighten more than anything else in my life, and it terrifies me. I’ve always had trouble controlling my feelings, but Iyo… she amplifies them. Makes them bigger, hotter, sharper. Every thought, every heartbeat, every quick inhale of her scent reminds me that I want her here, I need her here, and soon I won’t be able to have her so close.
“You… you okay?” she asks softly, eyes flicking up to meet mine. There’s something different in her tone, a pause that wasn’t there before, like she’s thinking about more than just me being quiet.
“Yeah,” I murmur, but it comes out too clipped, too tense. I glance away, hoping she doesn’t notice how fast my heart is pounding. I can’t let her see.
She hums, tilting her head. “I mean… I guess it’s different now, huh? Being on separate shows.”
separate shows. The idea that we could be in different cities, different locker rooms, different lives… it makes my chest ache. But instead of collapsing into panic, I let a tiny smirk slip out. “Yeah… different.” My voice is small, almost teasing, but inside it’s trembling.
She’s quiet for a moment, just letting the weight of the thought hang there. Then, almost casually, she says, “I mean… I’ll see you, obviously. But… it’s gonna be weird.”
The word weird lands heavy in my chest. I want to reach out, grab her hand, and say, I’ll miss you so much it hurts, but instead I let my thumb brush the edge of my phone in my pocket. A small, almost invisible gesture, but enough. Iyo notices. Her gaze softens. She tilts her head, watching me, and I feel my stomach flip at the way she studies me.
“I’ll figure it out,” I say, trying to sound light, but my voice cracks slightly. I glance at her knee brushing mine again my body already betraying me. She has to know something’s going on inside me, right?
“Oh, you’ll figure it out, huh?” she teases, lips curling into that small, almost mischievous smile that makes my chest ache. “You’re gonna make me come to SmackDown with you.”
I can practically feel the teasing in her tone pressing against me, and my heart stutters. Lord knows if I could, I would grab her and never let go. But instead, I let out a small laugh, shaking my head at her playful jab.
“Yeah, you gonna follow me?” I counter, letting my words carry a hint of flirtation, teasing her back just enough.
“Yep. Like your little puppy,” she says, laughter soft and airy as her eyes flick up to the ceiling. And then, quieter, almost to herself, “If only…”
Her voice is low, intimate, and it makes something inside me twist. I catch her looking at me, shaking her head with that soft, wistful smile, and I feel my chest tighten. There’s a weight behind her words, something she isn’t fully saying, but I can feel it. The unspoken worry about the brand split, the distance. The longing.
I bite my lip, trying not to overthink the way my stomach twists at the thought of being apart from her. she’ll miss this too. She’s worried too. And I… I feel the same way. But I don’t say it. I can’t. I’m still trapped in my own hesitation, afraid that if I speak, I’ll expose too much, I’ll break the fragile balance we have.
Instead, I lean just an inch closer, careful not to let her see how badly I want to close the space between us. I brush my hand against the edge of her arm, subtle, almost accidental, and my pulse spikes. Iyo doesn’t pull away. She only watches me, eyes soft, a faint smile still on her lips, as if she understands the storm of feeling I’m hiding beneath my teasing.
“I mean… I’m really happy for you, Rhea,” she says quietly, voice soft, eyes glinting with pride. “This SmackDown thing it’s huge. You earned it. You deserve it.”
I swallow hard, blinking down at my hands. Why is it so hard to just say thanks? “I… I’m proud of you too, and I know you’ll find your way to wrestlemania. I’m not going anywhere,” I murmur, trying to sound casual, though my voice cracks slightly.
Iyo tilts her head, smiling softly, and I feel my stomach twist. “Ohhh, are you blushing, mami?” she teases, reaching a hand toward my cheek.
I jerk my head away, cheeks flaming hotter than the arena lights. “No!” My voice is louder than I intended. My fingers clench in my lap, curling into each other. I try to act untouchable, strong, like I always do in the ring but around her, it’s impossible. I feel exposed.
“You’re adorable,” she whispers, voice soft and intimate. And there it is. My chest tightens further. I feel like I should push her away, assert myself, but I don’t. Instead, my fingers inch just a little closer to hers, and she doesn’t move. She lets me linger there.
“I… I’m not… I mean…” I falter, voice small, because every instinct I’ve ever had about being untouchable, in control, strong, is crumbling in this room. I swallow hard. “Never mind.”
I can feel it the tight feeling in my chest, curling tighter with every second Iyo’s near. I try to focus on something else my match, the upcoming SmackDown, but my brain refuses. Every glance, every subtle brush of her hand as she reaches for the hoodie, every soft tilt of her head, makes my stomach twist.
She notices. Of course she notices. Iyo always notices. Her brow tilts just slightly, the smile fading from her lips, replaced with that quiet, assessing look that makes me want to hide.
“You… you okay?” she asks again, softer this time. The teasing is gone. It’s just concern, but it hits me harder than anything else.
“Yeah,” I lie. My voice is too quiet, too tight. I swallow, trying to force it down, the feeling clawing at my chest. It’s fine. I’m fine. But my fingers won’t stop trembling. My heart is racing. My lungs feel small.
Iyo scoots a little closer, just enough that her knee nudges mine. It’s subtle, but it’s enough. My chest twists, heat crawling up my neck. I want to pull away, want to act untouchable but part of me doesn’t. Part of me wants to melt into her.
A single tear slips past my eyelash before I can stop it. I blink hard, trying to push it back, but my chest feels like it’s unraveling. Iyo doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t ask questions. She just tilts her head and lets me see that she sees me.
“You don’t have to hide it,” she whispers. Her thumb brushes gently against my cheek, soft, grounding. “I see you, All of you.”
My chest twists again, tighter this time. I try to speak, but my throat feels clogged with everything I’ve been holding in, fear, longing, exhaustion, the terror of being apart. And then, finally, it slips.
“I… I don’t want to be away from you,” I murmur, voice cracking. “Even for a day. Even for—” I stop. Can’t say it all. My throat catches.
Iyo presses her forehead gently to mine, the warmth of her breath, the weight of her arms holding me. “Hey… hey,” she murmurs. “We’ll figure it out. SmackDown, Raw… it’s just wrestling. We’ll make this work. You and me.”
The tears come slowly at first, then in a quiet rush. I bury my face in her shoulder, clutching her hoodie like it’s the only thing keeping me from collapsing entirely. My body shakes slightly, chest heaving with the release I’ve been holding back for what feels like ages.
And Iyo… she doesn’t pull away. She lets me fall apart in her arms, rocking me gently, whispering soft reassurances I can barely hear over the sound of my own heartbeat.
I can’t stop thinking about the time apart, the separate shows, the miles that will stretch between us. But for now, in this hotel room, nothing else exists but her. And maybe, just maybe, letting her see me this broken is exactly what we both needed