PART 2
“DEREK! LET GO OF HER!”
The scream came from Jessica, Derek’s wife.
A wine glass slipped from her hand and shattered against the stone patio.
For a moment, nobody moved.
Jessica stood near the deck steps, her face drained of color, her phone trembling in her hands.
“DEREK! I’M SERIOUS! LET HER GO RIGHT NOW!”
Derek turned his head, annoyed.
“What the hell is wrong with you, Jess? Leo shoved me! I’m handling it!”
Jessica looked almost sick.
“YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND!”
She hurried down the steps, nearly stumbling as she crossed the lawn.
“Look at my phone!”
Derek tightened his grip on my wrist.
“I’m not interested in whatever stupid thing you’re watching.”
“LOOK AT IT!”
Her voice cracked.
She shoved the screen directly in front of his face.
A familiar voice came from the tiny speaker.
A sports commentator.
An arena crowd.
And then words I hadn’t heard spoken about me in years.
“THE UNDEFEATED WORLD CHAMPION… THE VALKYRIE… MAYA CHEN!”
I closed my eyes for the briefest moment.
Of all the ways my old life could have returned, I had never imagined it would happen in my father-in-law’s backyard, with beer dripping from my hair and my husband bleeding on the ground.
Jessica had apparently been scrolling through a sports anniversary highlight that morning.
A clip from one of my championship fights had appeared on her phone.
And now she was staring at me as though she’d discovered a stranger living inside someone she’d known for years.
On the screen stood a younger version of me.
My hair was braided tightly against my scalp.
I wore black fighting gloves.
My expression was calm.
Behind me, a packed arena roared as the referee raised my arm.
A championship belt gleamed beneath the lights.
My name appeared beneath the image.
MAYA “THE VALKYRIE” CHEN — UNDEFEATED WORLD CHAMPION, 14–0.
Derek stared.
Then he looked at me.
Then at the phone again.
His thick fingers remained wrapped around my wrist.
Jessica’s eyes filled with tears.
“Derek, that’s Maya!”
He scoffed.
“No, it isn’t.”
“YES, IT IS!”
“You’ve lost your mind.”
Jessica swiped through the images.
Another fight appeared.
Then another.
There I was stepping into the cage in Las Vegas.
There I was standing beneath championship lights in Tokyo.
There I was with my former coaching team, holding a gold belt across my waist.
Derek’s expression changed.
Not enough to make him release me.
But enough for me to recognize the first flicker of uncertainty.
I had spent eight years training to become one of the most technically accomplished fighters in my division.
Eight years of early mornings, brutal conditioning, injuries, sacrifice, and battles against women who had devoted their entire lives to combat sports.
I had fought in packed arenas.
I’d endured punches, kicks, takedowns, and submission attempts from world-class opponents.
I’d learned how to remain composed when thousands of spectators were screaming.
And I’d eventually walked away undefeated.
Not because I was afraid of fighting.
Because I was tired of it.
I wanted something different.
I wanted to arrange flowers.
To build a business that smelled of lavender and fresh roses instead of sweat and disinfectant.
To marry Leo, the gentle professor who loved me for my curiosity, my laughter, and the way I arranged wildflowers on our kitchen windowsill.
He had known about my past from the beginning.
He simply never treated my championship titles as the most important thing about me.
To Leo, I was Maya.
Not The Valkyrie.
And that was exactly what I’d wanted.
Unfortunately, Derek had mistaken my desire for peace for an inability to defend myself.
Jessica played another video.
The commentator’s voice became louder.
“UNBELIEVABLE! ANOTHER FINISH FOR THE VALKYRIE!”
One of the cousins stepped closer.
“Wait… Maya Chen?”
Another cousin took out his phone.
“Hang on. I remember her.”
Frank Vance, my father-in-law, leaned forward from the deck railing.
“What are you all talking about?”
Jessica pointed toward me.
“She’s a professional fighter, Frank! Not just any fighter. She was a world champion!”
Derek gave a short, ugly laugh.
“Come on. You expect me to believe this little florist was some kind of fighting superstar?”
Jessica almost screamed.
“LOOK AT HER FACE!”
He finally studied the screen.
The hair was different.
The clothing was different.
But the face looking out from the championship footage was unmistakably mine.
And suddenly, the entire backyard went quiet.
Derek’s eyes narrowed.
“That’s some edited internet garbage.”
Nobody laughed.
He glanced toward his father.
Frank said nothing.
Jessica reached for Derek’s arm.
“Please. Just let her go.”
He jerked away from her.
“Stop making me look stupid!”
I looked past him.
Leo was beginning to move.
He was propped on one elbow, holding his bleeding lip with his free hand.
His glasses lay broken several feet away.
He tried to sit upright.
“Leo,” I said gently, “don’t move too quickly.”
Derek looked back at me.
For the first time, he seemed to realize I wasn’t afraid of him.
That only made him angrier.
“You think I’m scared of some little trophy you won?”
I didn’t answer.
“You’re what, a hundred and thirty pounds?”
He looked me up and down with contempt.
“I’m twice your size.”
Jessica stepped backward.
“Derek, don’t.”
He leaned closer.
“I played college football. I know how to handle myself.”
I kept my eyes on his.
“Let go of my wrist.”
He smiled.
“There she goes. Finally found her voice.”
“Derek.”
My tone remained even.
“Let me go.”
He squeezed harder.
Pain shot up my arm.
But my breathing didn’t change.
He shook his head.
“Make me.”
A few feet away, Leo struggled to stand.
“Derek, stop!”
Jessica was openly crying now.
“Please, Derek. You’re making this worse!”
Derek ignored them both.
“Come on, princess. Show us what you can do.”
I looked toward Leo one last time.
He was conscious.
He was breathing.
But blood still marked the corner of his mouth, and I was worried about the way his head had struck the patio.
I needed to get to him.
And Derek was standing in my way.
“You have one last chance,” I said quietly.
He laughed.
“Or what?”
I lifted my chin.
“You’ll find out.”
For an instant, I saw hesitation in his eyes.
Then his pride took over.
He twisted my wrist again and pulled me toward him.
“Try it, little girl.”
He never finished his next sentence.
Because the moment he pulled, I moved.
And the entire backyard discovered why the woman they’d spent years mocking had once been called The Valkyrie.
