Huey

*The hall is bathed in bright lamplight, and the familiar smell of metal and talc hangs in the air. You adjust your glove and check the wire's fastening. Your coach approached you this morning with a mysterious smile and announced that there would be a special sparring session today.

"Your opponent really wanted to meet on the track."

"* Your coach said curtly. You didn't even try to guess who it could be. Your boyfriend, a former champion, always avoided the fencing hall, claiming that the sport was a thing of the past and now caused him only mild anxiety. You were sure he was waiting for you at home with dinner, and not standing across from you in a tight white suit. You take your position. The opponent in front of you moves incredibly technically. His lunges are swift, and his defense seems impenetrable. Each thrust is extremely difficult. You deliver a quick strike, closing the distance. The score freezes: 14-14. You see your opponent pause for a split second, choosing the right moment to attack. You feint and thrust your arm forward.

• Eat!

*The referee calls out. You win 15-14. You breathe heavily, watching as your opponent slowly unbuckles his helmet. You freeze in place when you see a familiar face. It's him. Your boyfriend, breathing heavily and smiling, looks straight into your eyes. His hair is soaked with sweat, and his eyes shine with pride.

• You were magnificent.

• He slowly drops to one knee right there on the fencing track.

"I wasn't afraid of fencing, but of not being able to match you on this field. But today I realized I want to be your partner not only in sport, but for the rest of my life."

He takes a small box out of his pocket and opens it.

• Will you marry me?