Marcus's cheek was swollen, and the medical staff wanted to examine his shoulder.
He answered questions about the fight, praised Daniel Reyes, and thanked Elena for preparing him.
He also thanked Crownline.
When a reporter asked whether he wanted to make a statement about the controversy surrounding his behavior at the gym, Marcus did not avoid the question.
“I already apologized for what I did,” he said. “But an apology isn't the same thing as changing. The people at Crownline have been working to make sure the place is better for everyone who uses it, including the people who maintain it. I want to keep being part of that.”
The reporter asked whether he believed the public had forgiven him.
Marcus shook his head.
“That's not something I get to decide.”
“Does that bother you?”
“Sometimes.”
“Then why keep talking about it?”
“Because the people I disrespected shouldn't have to pretend it didn't happen just because I won a fight.”
The reporter seemed surprised by the answer.
Marcus continued.
“I don't think one championship victory makes someone a good person. And I don't think one apology repairs everything. People should judge me by what I do next.”
The interview ended.
Elena approached with his jacket.
“That's enough.”
Marcus nodded.
“I'm ready.”
They left the arena through a side corridor.
Outside, the rain had softened to a light drizzle.
The city smelled of wet pavement and exhaust. Fans still waited near the entrance, hoping to see the fighters leave. A few recognized Marcus and called his name.
He stopped to sign two programs.
Then he continued toward the vehicle waiting for him.
Althea, Raymond, and Ben had already left.
Marcus had asked whether they wanted to join the team for a late meal, but Althea had declined.
“I have work in the morning,” she had said.
Marcus had almost laughed.
“You just watched seven rounds of championship fighting.”
“And tomorrow the floor will still need cleaning.”
He had looked at her.
“Right.”
She had smiled.
“Good night, Marcus.”
“Good night.”
Now, sitting in the back of the vehicle, Marcus looked out at the wet streets.
Elena sat beside him.
For several minutes, neither spoke.
Then Marcus said, “Do you think she was proud?”
Elena turned.
“Who?”
“Althea.”
Elena considered the question.
“I think she was glad you listened.”
“That's not the same thing.”
“No.”
Marcus looked through the window.
“Do you think she believes I've changed?”
Elena leaned back.
“Ask her.”
“I don't want to keep asking her to judge me.”
“Then stop asking.”
He smiled faintly.
Elena continued.
“Marcus, you have spent a lot of your life wanting people to tell you whether you're good enough. Your father. Your coaches. The audience. Your sponsors. Now you're asking Althea to give you a final score for your character.”
Marcus looked at her.
“I hadn't thought of it that way.”
“Then think about it.”
He nodded.
“You don't get to make someone responsible for confirming that you've improved.”
The vehicle passed beneath a streetlight.
Marcus watched the reflection move across the window.
“I used to think that if I won enough, nobody could make me feel small.”
Elena said nothing.
“But it didn't work.”
“No.”
“I could win a fight and still be angry about something someone said to me. I could have the belt and still feel like I needed everyone in the room to notice it.”
He looked down at his hands.
“That's exhausting.”
Elena nodded.
“It is.”
Marcus rested his head against the seat.
“I don't want to go back to that.”
“Then don't.”
He looked at her.
“It's not that simple.”
“No. But it is that direct.”
Elena smiled.
“You'll have bad days. You'll lose your temper sometimes. You'll get frustrated. The difference is that now you know what happens when you let those feelings make your decisions.”
Marcus nodded.
The vehicle continued through the city.
He thought about the fight.
He thought about Reyes's right hand in the seventh round.
He thought about the judges' scores.
But underneath all those thoughts was another memory.
The west mat.
The wet floor.
The sound of a mop being pushed across the surface.
And the expression on Althea's face when he had told her to do the work again.
He closed his eyes.
He did not want to forget that expression.
Not because he wanted to punish himself with it.
Because it reminded him what he never wanted to become again.
Monday at Crownline
The following Monday, Crownline reopened after a short maintenance closure.
The west training mat had been replaced.
The lockers had been repaired.
The equipment storage area had been reorganized.
Several damaged sections of flooring had been removed and replaced with safer material. The ventilation system had been inspected, and a new schedule had been established for routine cleaning and equipment checks.
But the most important changes were not visible in the building.
They had begun with conversations.