Silence is deafening
Kasey Apartment
Las Vegas, Nevada
The apartment settled into silence slowly, like it was deciding whether or not to trust it. Alexandra stood in the kitchen after the door closed behind her daughter, listening to the echo of footsteps fade down the hall. Fifteen was old enough to leave without fanfare, no frantic reminders, no clinging at the door. Just a nimble hug, a distracted “Text you later,” and the sound of independence moving away. She exhaled and let the calm arrive.
LJ had already left earlier that morning, law books stacked in his bag, gear stowed away like he was attempting not to let those two worlds bleed into each other too much. Law school demanded structure. Wrestling demanded sacrifice. He somehow gave both what they asked for, even when it cost him sleep. Now the apartment belonged to her. Not empty.
Just still. Quiet. The silence gave her way too much time to think.
Alexandra poured herself coffee she didn’t really want and leaned against the counter, the mug warming her palms. Morning light stretched across the living room floor, catching dust motes and the faint scuff marks from boots kicked off in a hurry. A pre-calculus textbook half haphazardly abandoned on the dining table, a hastily written note slapped onto the page in her daughter’s messy handwriting. Evidence of a life in motion. She turned her left hand slowly.
The engagement ring glinted in the sunlight, unapologetic. It looked different on her hand than it had in the box the night she opened it from the puzzle box, less new now, further integrated. Like it belonged there. Like it had always been waiting for the rest of her life to catch up. Alexandra rubbed her thumb over the band, grounding herself. Engaged. A mother. A fighter. None of those things canceled the others out, no matter how badly some people wanted them to. Her thoughts slid, inevitably, toward Seleana and the upcoming Bombshell Internet Qualifier.
The match sat hard in her chest, not with fear but with awareness. Seleana wasn’t just perilous because of her skill, though she was identical, identical in a good way. She was perilous because she represented a version of the path Alexandra might have taken under different circumstances. No child waiting at home. No partner splitting time between law briefs and ring tape. Just extraordinary focus, sharpened into a blade. People would compare them. They already were. Alexandra knew the whispers. Knew the implication threaded through every analysis and preview.
Has Alexandra lost her edge? Is it possible that the end was coming for her?
She scoffed softly and took a sip of coffee, grimacing when she realized it had gone cold. If anything, she felt sharper now. No loss of focus. Less reckless. Hunger didn’t always look like desperation. Sometimes it looked like control. She crossed the living room and knelt beside her gear bag, unzipping it slowly. The smell immediately hit leather, sweat, and wrist tape. Comforting. Familiar. She ran her hands over the contents like a ritual, feeling her pulse steady. She imagined Seleana across the ring. The tension. Their stare down. The moment where instinct took over and everything else fell away. Seleana wasn’t new to Alexandra, nor was she to Seleana, they had fought several times before, would this one be any different? Despite everything to the contrary, Alexandra knew not to underestimate her.
Underestimating your opponent could be your downfall. And she couldn’t do that again, she had doubted others before and look where that landed her.
And she imagined LJ nearby. Not hovering. Never hovering. Just ever present, as he had been. Backstage if time allowed it. Ringside if he could swing it. It was always touching that she could find him in the chaos, always more than enough that she knew without looking that someone who understood the cost was watching. A sound at the door pulled her out of her thoughts. The jingle of keys in the lock. A familiar rhythm. Boots hitting the floor. He was home, right when the world seemed to get too quiet.
Alexandra straightened just as LJ’s voice carried down the hall. “Angel?”
“In here” He appeared moments later, jacket slung over one shoulder, law books peeking out of his bag. There was tape still wrapped around his wrists, the edges somewhat frayed, and a faint bruise darkening on his forearm. Training, she guessed. Or sparring that had gone a little harder than planned.
“Thought you had class all afternoon,” she said. “And then training.”
“Professor let us out early,” he replied. “Cold-called half the room and then after a bit of training I decided that was enough suffering for one day.”
She smiled despite herself. His eyes went immediately to her hand. They always did. Not because he needed reassurance, but because he still seemed quietly amazed. “There it is,” he said softly, reaching for her. She let him take her hand, their fingers fitting together with ease. His thumb brushed the ring, callused and gentle. “You okay?” he asked.
Alexandra hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. Just, the quiet got too loud.”
LJ hummed in understanding and stepped closer, resting his forehead against hers. He smelled like soap and sweat and something distinctly him. “Thinking about Seleana,” he said.
“Is it that obvious?” She took a deep breath trying to steel herself.
“Only if you know what it looks like when you’re already in fight mode.” He nodded.
She snorted. “You mean brooding?”
“I mean focused, Angel.”
She leaned into him, arms circling his waist. His hands settled at her back without hesitation, grounding, steady.
“They’re going to tear this match apart, tear me apart.” She said quietly. “I just want to actually do something worth it this time. I feel like my life is turning into a storyline.”
“Our lives aren’t a storyline,” LJ replied. “Even if you think it is starting to be.”
Alexandra tilted her head back to look at him. “Does it ever bother you? That people think I’ll hesitate now? That I'm being labeled a choke artist.”
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles, right over the ring. “They don’t know you,” he said simply. “And they don’t understand that having something real to fight for doesn’t make you weaker.”
Her throat tightened unexpectedly. “I just feel like I’m starting to fail you, failing my daughter and myself.”
“You aren’t failing anyone, love. Not me, not Ash,” he added. “I’ll be there, I always am. If I’m not backstage, I’ll be ringside. You know I will..”
She smiled, that quiet, fierce smile that only came out around him. “You always are.”
“Occupational hazard,” he said lightly with a smirk that made her blush. “Law school teaches patience. Wrestling teaches loyalty.”
She laughed softly and pulled him into a kiss, unhurried, familiar, full of shared history. When they broke apart, Alexandra rested her forehead against his chest.
“Can we just stay like this for a little bit?” She asked. “Before we both have to go back to being responsible adults.”
“Absolutely,” LJ said.
“Thank you.” She smiled softly.
“For what love?”
“Always being the voice of reassurance.”
They settled onto the couch together, Alexandra tucked into his side, his arm solid and reassuring around her shoulders. Outside, the city continued to move. Inside, the moment held. Her fingers found the ring again, not because she needed reassurance, but because it reminded her of exactly who she was.
And why she wasn’t afraid. Why she never gave up. She had her family, which was growing with the addition of the Kasey's.
Moments of Light
Forestiere Underground Gardens
Fresno, California
LJ and Alexandra took in some of the sights of the Forestiere Underground Gardens, she found a spot, knowing she needed to say something about her match against Seleana. Despite having said so much about her opponent before in previous matches they had. There really wasn’t much else she could say. Perhaps it shouldn’t be about Seleana, after all, Alexandra had been taking her own round of losses lately. Taking a few moments after the camera came on, she gave a few moments to pause, before a soft laugh leaves her lips. She wasn’t going to wait any longer.
“Seleana, damn. Here we are again, what is this, the fifth time? Goodness, after a while you’d think you’d get tired of losing to me. This time however, I seem to be on a downward spiral, so you might get lucky, right? After all, every time it’s a big one, I never manage to get the job done. We had the two failures at getting my hands on the World Bombshell Championship, my countless failed attempts at regaining the Bombshell Roulette Championship. The failed attempts at the Mix Tag Titles when they existed.”
She pauses and moves around a bit.
“Now here we are, another title shot in the balance. Which leaves everyone, including myself asking can I do it? I know I can. But the question here is darling, do you? Do you believe enough in yourself to get past me?”
Alexandra lets the question hang in the cool underground air, the calm broken only by rich footsteps and the soft echo of water somewhere rich within the Gardens. She exhales slowly, eyes tracing the carved stone walls about her as if they might offer answers. When she speaks again, her voice is steadier, further grounded, like she has settled into the truth she is about to say.
“You know, people love to keep score. They love numbers. Four times before this, five times now. Wins, losses, streaks, slumps. They look at the past like it is a prophecy. Like because something happened before, it has to happen again. And I get it. History matters. Ours especially. Because every time you and I cross paths, something shifts. Careers bend a little. Confidence gets tested. Egos get bruised.”
She turns slightly, brushing her fingers on the stone, eyes focused now, intent.
“But here is the part nobody ever talks about. None of those matches were easy. Not for me. Not for you. Every single time, I had to dig deeper than I wanted to. I had to take shots that would have put people down for good. And every time, you kept coming back for more. So no, I do not think you are some pushover who just walks into the ring and hands me another win. You never were. You never will be.”
Alexandra pauses again, nodding slowly, acknowledging something important.
“And maybe that is why this one feels different. Not because of the title shot on the line, though let us not pretend that is nothing. The Bombshell Internet Championship is not some consolation prize. It is visibility. It is relevance. It is proof that you belong in every conversation that matters. This feels different because I am not walking in with momentum. I am not walking in with the full world behind me, convinced that Alexandra Calaway cannot lose. I also know who's waiting for me at the end of this, should I make it. Victoria Lyons.”
She gives a small smile, but there is no humor in it.
“I have been knocked down. Publicly. Repeatedly. I have heard it all. That I choke when it counts. That I cannot finish the story. That I shine bright until the lights get too hot. And maybe some of that is fair. Maybe I have not always lived up to my own expectations. That stings further than anything anyone else could always say.”
Her gaze lifts, eyes perceptive now, fire returning.
“But here is what people forget. I am still here. I did not disappear. I did not hide. I did not ask for time off to lick my wounds and hope everyone forgot. I kept showing up. I kept fighting. I kept putting myself in positions where failure was possible, because I refused to play it safe. I refuse to sit back and wait till the inevitable end. I refuse to give up, even when others think I should.”
She takes a step forward, as if closing distance between her and the camera.
“So Seleana, when you ask yourself if you believe enough in yourself to get past me, you better understand what stands in front of you. Not a woman clinging to past glory. Not a name living off old wins. You are facing someone who has been stripped down to the rawest version of herself multiple times and yet, still comes back. Someone who knows exactly what it feels like to fall short and still chooses to walk back into the fire.”
Alexandra folds her arms loosely, shoulders squared.
“This fifth time is not about revenge. This isn't like when I faced Victoria, that was revenge. It is not about proving that I own you or that history repeats itself. It is about proving that I am not done writing mine. I am not asking for sympathy. I am not asking for excuses. I’m not even asking for permission. I’m taking everything. I am telling you that when that bell rings, you are getting my full attention, my full effort, and every hard lesson I have learned from losing.”
Her voice softens just a touch, but the intensity never leaves.
“And you, Seleana, you are dangerous right now. You have momentum. You have people whispering that maybe this is your time. Maybe this time Alexandra finally slips. I know you feel that. I know you can taste it. That belief can make someone unstoppable, or it can make them reckless. The difference is how you handle the moment when things do not go your way.”
She tilts her head slightly, studying an imagined reaction.
“Because at some point in that match, something will not go according to plan. It always happens. A move does not land clean. A second too slow. A breath knocked out of you. And in that moment, instinct takes over. That is where this match will be decided.”
Alexandra places a hand over her chest.
“I have been in that moment more times than I can count. I have failed in it. I have survived it. I have learned from it. So when I say I know I can do this, it is not arrogance. It is experience. It is the understanding that belief is not loud. It is not flashy. It is quiet, stubborn, and unyielding.”
She straightens up, her resolve clear.
“This championship is not a promise. It is an opportunity. And opportunities do not care about your past. They care about what you do when they are in front of you. On that night, under those lights, it is just you and me again. No shortcuts. No excuses. No what ifs. Just the knowledge that I am one step closer to my goal.”
A faint smile returns, this time edged with confidence.
“So bring everything you have. Bring the hunger. Bring the hope that this is finally your moment. Please, I’m begging you. Don’t bring some watered down version of yourself. I don’t want the woman who I faced before. Because I am bringing the version of myself that refuses to be defined by failure. And if you are going to beat me, you are going to have to do something nobody else has managed to do yet.”
She holds the camera’s gaze, unwavering.
“You are going to have to break me. And I do not break easily.”
