Off to the races

 The gates slammed open, and the thunder of hooves shook the earth. Rafael clenched the reins, urging his stallion, Eclipse, forward. To his left, Nico’s mare, Tempest, surged ahead, her sleek muscles rippling with effort. They had been rivals for years with each victory or defeat sharpening their competition into something more than sport, something personal.


Rafael hated the way Nico always rode with effortless grace, hated how the crowd cheered his name just a little louder. But more than anything, he hated how much he cared about winning against him.


Neck and neck down the final stretch, Rafael grit his teeth. He felt the fire of resistance, the sheer force of not wanting to lose to “him”, of all people. Yet, in that split second, he understood: this rivalry was more than hatred. It was love twisted into obsession, the kind that pushes you beyond your limits, that keeps you in the race even when your legs burn and your heart pounds.


Eclipse stretched forward, Tempest matching stride for stride. And in that moment, as the finish line blurred into sight, Rafael realized that without Nico, without this competitive rivalry, with this unrelenting fight— the idea of winning would mean nothing at all.


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