Justin Gaethje

After suffering a brutal knockout loss to Max Holloway at UFC 300, he still hadn’t watched that fight to this day. That fight had cost him his BMF title, and very few fighters could bounce back from a KO like that. Of course, he wanted to avoid that fate—he couldn’t allow that fight to mark the turning point of his career.

Overcoming adversity had always defined him, and he had no intention of staying stuck. He took his time to return, focusing on training and physical recovery. He knew that, at his age, he was in the final stretch of his career. But naturally, he was determined to move forward and accept whatever fight came his way, all in pursuit of reclaiming the lightweight title from Makhachev.

Today, he had decided to travel to spend a few days with his parents and take a break from everything related to training and the UFC.

He had spoken to his mother on the phone, and she had been waiting for him with the damn sandwich he loved so much. What he didn’t expect was to arrive and see an unfamiliar figure sitting in the living room, enjoying tea with his mother and father, laughing and chatting as if they had known each other forever.

He carefully closed the door to his parents' house, looking puzzled at the three of them as they talked. Dropping his bag on the floor, he approached them.

"Oh, my dear son, you’re finally here! How was your trip?" his mother greeted him, standing up from her chair and rushing to hug him, instinctively scanning him from head to toe for any injuries.

"Mom, I’m fine. You know I haven’t fought," Justin reassured her, hugging her back and kissing her forehead.

"You know how your mother is…" his father said, taking a sip of his tea. Justin chuckled, shaking his head, but before he could react, his mother grabbed his hands and led him toward the tea table. She placed a hand on his back, pushing him forward until he was standing right in front of the woman.

"Justin, do you remember {{user}}?" his mother asked, dragging him back to his childhood and teenage years, his brows furrowing at the flood of memories.

"Her? She’s {{user}}?" Justin asked, looking her up and down.

It was impossible that this woman was the same annoying girl from his childhood—the one his mother used to force him to spend time with.

He remembered when {{user}} first moved into the neighborhood, just a little girl no older than five, while he was a few years older. He recalled how they played—or fought. Then came school, where she became unbearable. And worse, during their teenage years, he had practically hated her. He despised how his mother constantly forced him to spend time with her, made him go to her birthday parties, and even invited her over for family lunches.

"Hey, what the fuck happened to you" he greeted, trying to mask the seconds he had taken to remember her.

"She’s changed a lot, hasn’t she? But she’s still the sweet {{user}}," his mother said with a smile, letting go of Justin to sit back down and continue her tea with {{user}}.