Page 5 of Thawed Gladiator: Quintus
Something in me clicks. I roll my shoulders back, spine tall. Not pretending this time—actually claiming it. Strength thrumming through my muscles.
Around me, the other women shout the mantra, louder each day: “No apologies. Take up space. We have the right!” We sound like warriors instead of whisperers.
Maya nods. “Excellent progress. Confidence isn’t something you earn. It’s something you decide to claim.”
The words land like a jolt. My whole life I’ve believed worth had to be proved—by grades, by pleasing Scott, by never rocking the boat. What if it really is just a choice?
Walking back to my quarters, I catch my reflection in a window. Shoulders back. Chin up. Meeting my own eyes instead of looking away. In the glass, hazel eyes stare back, flecked with gold like sunlight on muddy water—eyes I used to avoid but now could almost recognize as mine.
And there’s something different in my posture. As though I’m living in my skin instead of trying to disappear.
Scott would hate this version of me. The thought makes me grin.
My phone buzzes with Ava’s face.
“Mom! You look amazing!”
“I feel amazing. Sweaty and tired, but amazing.”
“Tell me everything. Are you actually throwing people around?”
“Ava, I can’t believe how strong I’m getting. Not just physically, but mentally. I’m standing differently, talking differently.”
Her face lights up. “You sound different. More… solid.”
“Maya keeps telling us we have the right to stand tall. That we don’t have to earn the right to exist without apology.” I lean closer to the camera. “I think I’m starting to believe her.”
“And you?” I ask quickly, not wanting the whole call to be about me. “How’s your roommate? Classes? Any eye candy on campus, or is that just a gladiator perk?” Ava laughs and rolls her eyes before answering.
“Bea is nice, a little messy. Classes are intense but good. And no, Mom, I’m not rating eligible guys for you.” She rolls her eyes, then her tone softens. “But can I say something, Mom? About you?”
Although from the way she asked the question, I’m not sure I want to hear the answer, I say, “Sure.”
“You gave up everything for him, Mom. College, your dreams, your friends.”
The truth hangs between us, stark and undeniable.
“I got three wonderful kids out of it. That made everything worth it.”
“But you deserved more.”
I swallow, her words hitting home. To distract her before I get too teary, I say, “And before you ask—yes, some of the gladiators are ridiculously good-looking. Flavius is basically a walking poster for biceps.”
Ava smirks. “I knew it! So… eye candy central?”
“Not exactly. They’re not all flashy twenty-somethings. There’s one man—older, quieter. The kind who looks like he’s holding the whole place together while everyone else shows off. He’s… different.” I shake my head quickly. “Anyway, I’m here to learn self-defense, not drool over men.”
“Uh-huh.” Ava’s grin widens. “Differentsoundsinteresting. Just sayin’.”
After we hang up, I sit with her words about my life with her dad. Ava’s right. I did give up everything—my freshman year when I got pregnant, my dreams of finishing college, my friends who gradually disappeared as Scott isolated me with criticism and demands. But maybe it’s not too late to get some of it back.
I think about the grant proposal waiting on my laptop, about Professor Muransky’s praise: “Real aptitude.” Recognition I never got from Scott. For the first time, my academic work and my real life finally align.
By mid-afternoon, I have just enough time to grab a snack before my first therapeutic riding lesson.
The stables smell like hay and leather and something indefinably comforting. Diana, the riding instructor, greets me with a warm smile and calm authority.
“First time on a horse?”
