The sum of the day’s troubles hit Jonah as the final whistle blew.
A rugby scrum had left him bruised, mud clinging to his jersey, but worse was the sneer from Caldwell, the town’s self-appointed champion.
“Scum,” Caldwell muttered, brushing past.
Jonah clenched his fists but didn’t swing.
He remembered his father’s words: strength isn’t in blows, but in rising higher.
Later, he sat with his team, laughter breaking through the gloom.
The sum of loyalty, he realized, always outweighed the sting of insult.

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