Page 71 of Free to Fall

Four to six months? That’s half a fuckin’ year. That’s a hundred and eighty-some days of watching everybody else keep movin’ while I’m sittin’ still. It felt like my entire fighting career was suddenly outta my control. All that work, all that training, all that pain and sacrifice—and now I gotta sit on the sidelines?

I didn’t say shit to Egypt on the ride home. She kept glancing over, asking if I was good. And I kept nodding like I was. But I wasn’t. I was spiraling inside. The only thing keeping me steady was the warmth of her hand in mine.

The second we got back to the house, I shut myself in the bathroom and stared at my own reflection until my vision blurred. I hated feeling weak. But that’s exactly what I felt.

“Nasseem, it’s okay to not be okay,” Egypt finally said as we sat down and ate dinner. She’d made stir fry and we were sitting across from each other at her small dining room table.

“I’m just fucking mad. Every time I think this shit can’t get any worse, something else happens. I mean damn, ain’t it enough that I got shot, that we lost our fuckin baby, but now I’m about to lose my shot at this title as well?”

“Life sucks sometimes Nas, even for people like us. I think we needed to be humbled honestly.” I looked at her confused, eyes so narrow you’d think I’d smoked the world’s largest joint. “Look at where we came from, we were blessed enough to get out of that. But the problem is, the same God we were praying to on a regular basis, asking Him to get us out of where we were, we stopped praying once shit got too good. We wasn’t as dedicated; at least I wasn’t. I grew up in the church, sang in choir but here I am living this life… I ain’t been to church since New Years.”

“So, you wanna go to church?”

“I want to be more mindful of the blessings I do have so I don’t forget where those blessings came from. I’m not sayin we need to be in church on a regular basis, but we should pray more. When was the last time you prayed Nasseem?”

“The day I got shot.” I answered honestly, without hesitation because it rang nothing but the truth. “I prayed to God that he wouldn’t hurt you or my baby and he didn’t answer my prayers.”

“One out of two ain’t so bad.” She replied barely above a whisper. I focused in on her and saw the sadness in her eyes, the pool of tears, the way she tried so hard not to let the tears fall.

“Look, I’m grateful as hell that he kept you on this earth because I don’t know how I’d live without you; but I asked for you and them. I think I’m allowed to be a little mad at God for not keeping my seed here too.”

Three days later,I was on the couch when Jay, my manager, called. I damn near ignored it, but something told me to answer.

“Yo,” I muttered, voice dry.

“You sittin’ down?”

“I’m always sittin’ down now, what you think?”

Jay ignored my bitterness. “Sadiq’s team just called.”

That snapped me to attention. “What? Why?”

“They heard about your recovery window. Said they wanna postpone the fight.”

I sat up. “Wait... they agreed to push it back?”

“Yup. Said Sadiq refuses to fight anybody else. Wants you, and only you.”

I blinked, heart thudding. “You serious?”

“Dead ass. He said—and I quote—‘I ain’t takin’ no fight ‘til I get in the ring with Walker. I want him at his best.’”

Man…

I sat there for a minute, letting it hit me. After everything that went wrong, after the baby, after the bullet, after feeling like life was draggin’ me by the throat, I finally got a win.

“He didn’t have to do that,” I said low.

“Nope. Which tells you what kind of fight this gon’ be.”

I nodded slowly. “A legendary one.”

Jay exhaled. “Exactly.”

That call changed everything.

The next week, I started physical therapy with a new fire under me. I told Egypt I’d take it slow. Lied right to her face. The truth? I was pushing my body every chance I got. I was sore as hell.

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