He kept scrolling, even into A black hoodie with "CREED" across the chest. The exact one she borrowed and never returned. He still had it folded on her side of the closet.
He pressed Enter.
Then he pulled on the black hoodie. He laced up the running shoes by the door. And at 11:47 p.m., he stepped outside into the cold, breath clouding in front of him.
But he scrolled past. Down into A playlist titled "Training Montage 2.0." He clicked. The first song was "Last Breath" by Future. Maya's ringtone. His throat tightened.
The results unfolded like a quiet avalanche.
Memories (1 result)
The recording ended.
There it was. Michael B. Jordan, fists up, snow in his hair. A digital ghost.
He pressed play.
A Funko Pop of Viktor Drago. She would have called it "adorably terrifying."
"Hey. So I was thinking about that fight—the second Creed movie. You know how Donnie only wins because he finally fights for himself, not for his father's legacy? I think that's you. You're always fighting for other people. But someday..." A pause. A car passing. "Someday, I hope you fight for yourself. Even if I'm not there to see it."