Just landed a roundhouse that didn’t hurt

Sparring with Leo tonight—same old rhythm, same tired eyes—but I threw the roundhouse like I meant it. Not because it was perfect, but because I didn’t flinch when my foot came down. That’s the thing about boxing now: it’s not about winning. It’s about not wincing. The silence after the hit? That’s where I live now. And for once, I stayed in it.