The sound of shattered glass echoed in the changing room. A duller sound followed. A punch against a wall, Samir thought without a doubt. He knew that sound too well. Then a scream: "Damn!"

"Bastard," he hissed, holding out his hands to his manager.The man took the scissors and began to cut the bandage that protected Samir's fingers before he put on the gloves. Samir had already removed them, he had pulled on the laces with his teeth and then carefully placed them on a table. Boxing gloves were sacred, especially after a win.

"The judges's verdict was fair. I smashed him and I could have done worse to his pretty face", Samir snorted.

"Samir ..." a woman scolded him. She was sitting on the table next to the boxing gloves. She had followed the meeting and the drama, perhaps more compelling, at the end of it.

"Your opponent disagrees,"  the boxer's manager said, while also freeing his other hand. "He is going nut in the corridor. I saw him kicking a door. I told you he couldn't accept to lose."

"Not my problem". Samir looked at his fingers, sometimes he got surprised by the way he could use them, with a surgical and violent precision, and successfully, in spite of his father who had always told him that he wouldn't be able to do that, that he didn't have the balls to do it. Fuck you Masood, he thought. Fuck me, he blamed himself because he still thought about him.

The manager stood up. "I'm going to see what's happening out there. Get dressed, there are interviews lined up for you".

"Uh interviews! Your favorite moment", the woman teased Samir and then got up.

Samir went close to her. "Maha, I dedicate this victory to you".

"As you should". Her green eyes sparkled with pride. She stood on the tiptoes and grabbed his chin. "Let's see, you won without damaging your pretty face".

"It was easy. My opponent was still sleeping. I think they should forbid boxing matches in the morning." Samir stepped away. He definitely needed a shower. He felt his sweat and the sweat of the other boxer on his skin. The rumors outside subsided, maybe his opponent stopped to be a hothead. How ironic it was that he thought this of that guy when for so many people he was no different. And he couldn't blame them. He took a towel, but hesitated to go in the shower.

"Maha, do you think the match was aired on tv in Tunisia?"

"In our country? I don't know", she answered, then her face dropped. "Why do you care if your father saw it?"

He wanted to hide. He hadn't seen that man in years nor he had the desire to. He just wanted to show him that he was wrong and he could be a successful boxer. He didn't even know why he felt ashamed when he didn't do nothing wrong. Maha knew him so well, and it was so hard hiding from her.

She led him in front of the mirror. "Look at yourself, Samir. You are handsome and talented. Certainly you don't need him, not anymore", she said with a stern expression on her face. Then she held him, circling his waist with her arms.

"Come with me to the party to celebrate my win. Our friend Sayid is going to come too".

"I have other plans. I want to go shopping and look for beauty products, you know those cool things that I can't seem to find in our home town. Also, I need to pack so..."

The manager bursted in. "That drama queen has calmed down, they are waiting to interview you." He lowered his gaze in embarrassment when he saw the couple holding each other. "Sorry, am I interrupting something?" asked.

Maha and Samir exchanged a knowing look. "If you only knew..." Maha answered while an enigmatic smile appeared on her face.