EMIL

WWE Raw - June 29th, 2026

Seemingly the story of his life.

His family banished him at an early age. Then, he finally joined the Bloodline. But, people started to leave again. Leave him again. First Sami. Then Jey.

Eventually he started to feel like he was being abandoned all over again. He felt like Roman abandoned him too when he disappeared for a while, he felt like even though Jimmy was there he wasn't actually there for Solo and in a way that was abandonment too. And so he pushed Jimmy away before Jimmy could leave him too.

Then came the MFTs, they grew in numbers one by one into a family. And the first to leave was Jacob even though it was "I LOVE YOU SOLO" for a while. They then became 5, 5 became 3, and now, 3 has become one. Solo's name fits...the state he is in right now.

He's so desperate to be a part of a family, yet so desperate to be apart from his family. He's scrambling to make Royce Keys "family" and LA Knight a "friend".

Pair: Rhea Ripley X Solo Sikoa

Plot: Solo Sikoa’s world unravels in one night: Tama and Talla walk out on him, LA Knight rejects his offer for an alliance, and the Bloodline fractures around him. Lost and overwhelmed, Solo breaks down alone backstage — until Rhea finds him and quietly reaches out to Jimmy for help. With Almia’s blessing, Solo’s young son is brought to him, giving Solo the one thing he thought he’d lost for good. In the quiet of a hotel room, Solo spends the night holding his son close, with Rhea by his side, finally finding comfort, family, and love after everything falls apart.

okay so… this has been stuck in my head since last night when Tama and Talla left Solo on SmackDown. like I genuinely feel bad for him. he looked so lost and confused and it just spiraled into this whole one‑shot. I wrote it with “Saturn” playing because that song fits his whole arc right now — lonely, scared, and trying to hold onto whatever he has left.

and honestly… I have no idea what WWE is doing with him. none. so I gave him something soft.

— isabella 💛

Kansas City Missouri Friday Night Smackdown June 19th 2026

Rhea was already waiting for him in the hallway outside gorilla, sitting on one of the production crates with her knee wrapped tight. The trainers told her to stay off it. Solo told her to stay off it. But she still came.

Solo stopped in front of her, breathing hard like he’d been pacing for twenty minutes. He didn’t say anything at first — he just crouched down and put his hands on her knee, checking the brace, the swelling, the wrap. For the thousandth time.

Rhea huffed out a tiny laugh.

“Solo… it’s fine.”

He didn’t look up.

“You said that yesterday.”

“And the day before,” she teased softly.

“And I’m gonna keep checking,” he muttered, thumb brushing the edge of the brace like he was afraid it might fall apart if he didn’t touch it.

Rhea reached down, cupping his jaw with her good hand. “Hey. Look at me.”

He finally did — and she saw it.

The nerves.

The exhaustion.

The fear he wouldn’t admit to anyone else.

“What’s the new direction for your storyline?” she asked quietly. “What are they having you do with Jacob tonight?”

Solo swallowed.

“I don’t know.”

Rhea blinked. “You don’t—”

“They won’t tell me,” he said, voice low. “They just said Jacob wants a segment. And I’m supposed to go out there and… talk.” He shook his head. “I don’t know what he’s gonna say. I don’t know what they want me to say back. I don’t know what they’re doing with me anymore.”

Rhea’s thumb stroked his cheek.

“You’re nervous.”

Solo didn’t deny it.

He just leaned into her touch, eyes closing for a second like she was the only thing keeping him grounded.

“You’ll be okay,” she whispered. “I’m right here.”

Solo’s hand slid up her leg, resting gently on her thigh — careful of her knee, always careful — and he breathed out slow.

“You always stay,” he said quietly.

Rhea smiled, soft and sure.

“Of course I do.”

Rhea kept her hand on his cheek, thumb brushing the spot where tension always gathered. Solo stayed there for a moment, breathing her in, letting her steady him the way nobody else could.

“You’ll be okay,” she whispered again.

Solo nodded, but it was small, uncertain. “Stay here until I’m done?”

“Of course,” she said, like it wasn’t even a question.

He exhaled, slow and shaky, and then he leaned in — not rushed, not desperate, just soft. His forehead touched hers first, their breaths mixing in the quiet hallway. Then he pressed a gentle kiss to her lips, careful and warm, the kind of kiss he only ever gave her when he needed grounding more than anything else.

Rhea kissed him back just as softly, her hand sliding from his jaw to the back of his neck. “Go,” she murmured. “I’ll be right here when you get back.”

Solo rested his forehead against hers for one more heartbeat, then pulled away, giving her knee one last check — because he always did — before straightening up.

He looked at her like she was the only solid thing left in his world.

Then he turned and walked toward the locker room to film his segment with Jacob, shoulders squared but still carrying the weight of everything he’d lost.

Rhea watched him go, her fingers still tingling from where he’d held her.

Solo sat on the bench, elbows on his knees, still feeling the warmth of Rhea’s kiss on his lips when Jacob Fatu walked in. The door slammed behind him.

Solo scoffed.

“Man, what the hell do you want? You here to tell me Roman wants me to come back to the family? Tell him the answer is still no.”

Jacob didn’t flinch.

“I ain’t here for none of that. Orders from the Tribal Chief — I’m here to make sure nobody gets involved in Jey’s match tonight.”

Solo rolled his eyes.

“Yeah? And?”

Jacob stepped closer, voice low.

“And to keep it one hundred? You makin’ the wrong decision. You know what he wants. He ain’t gonna wait too long. You runnin’ outta time, Solo, to make the right choice.”

Solo scoffed again, sharper this time.

“The right choice? What the hell does that even mean, Jacob?”

Jacob shrugged.

“Take it how you wanna take it. But it ain’t up to me. That’s up to you.”

He turned and walked out, leaving Solo staring after him.

Solo muttered under his breath, confused and irritated.

“I don’t know what that means… ‘it’s up to you’…”

Tama walked over, slapping Solo’s shoulder.

“What the hell was that about?”

Solo forced a laugh.

“Oh man, don’t worry about that. That was just Roman’s message. Roman thinks he’s callin’ the shots and wants me to come back to the family. Don’t worry about it.”

He stood up, trying to shake off the tension.

“But hey — tonight we gonna get them tag team titles back, okay? Me, you, him — all of us together. We do it together. As a family. How’s that sound?”

Tama’s expression hardened.

“Nah. I think you stay here.”

Solo blinked.

“What?”

Tama crossed his arms.

“Your family business is startin’ to mess with our family business. You go out there, there’s no tellin’ who’s gonna follow you.”

Solo’s jaw tightened.

“You know how that sounds?”

Talla stepped in.

“Hey — the Bloodline? That ain’t our problem. Tag team titles are.”

Tama and Talla walked away without looking back.

Leaving Solo alone.

Again.

The arena was loud before the bell even finished ringing, R‑Truth bouncing around the ring like he’d been waiting all week to show off. Joe Tessitore’s voice cut through the noise.

“R‑Truth in rare form tonight — look at him go!”

Truth hit the ropes, dropped the Five Knuckle Shuffle, and the crowd roared. Wade Barrett chuckled.

“Stealing from John Cena — and doing it well.”

Talla Tonga stepped onto the apron, towering over the ropes, drawing Truth’s attention. The distraction was all Tama needed — a cheap shot, a boot on the floor, and then Truth was caught mid‑air and chokeslammed on the apron.

Joe winced.

“Right on the edge — that’ll shut down the party quick.”

Talla climbed into the ring without tagging, throwing heavy shots, but Truth fought back, forcing the seven‑footer over the top rope. Tama tried to regain control, hitting a nasty snap neckbreaker, but he was too worn down to cover.

Wade leaned forward.

“MFT needs Talla back up — Tama’s running on fumes.”

And then everything changed.

Not with music.

Not with pyro.

Not with a ramp entrance.

But with a ripple in the crowd.

Joe’s voice tightened.

“Wait… is that— Solo Sikoa? He’s coming through the crowd!”

Wade sounded annoyed.

“He was told to stay out of this match. He’s not even coming down the ramp — what is he doing?”

Solo didn’t say a word.

He didn’t gesture.

He didn’t shout.

He just stepped over the barricade, eyes locked on the ring, breathing hard like he’d been fighting himself the whole walk down.

Tama saw him first.

“No! Stay back! We don’t need you!”

Solo didn’t react.

Didn’t nod.

Didn’t shake his head.

He just stood there.

And the distraction was all Priest needed.

He slipped out of Talla’s grip, shoved him into the post, and R‑Truth — the legal man — rolled Tama up from behind.

ONE. TWO. THREE.

The bell rang.

Joe Tessitore:

“Damian Priest and R‑Truth retain the tag team titles — and Solo Sikoa’s presence was pivotal.”

Wade Barrett:

“He didn’t even touch anyone. He didn’t have to. His distraction cost MFT the gold.”

Tama stared at Solo from the ring, furious.

Talla shook his head.

The crowd buzzed with confusion.

And Solo?

He stood there, silent, breathing hard, looking like he didn’t understand why everything he touched kept breaking.

Rhea didn’t need to see the finish to know something went wrong. She could hear it in the crowd — that confused buzz that always followed Solo when he didn’t listen, didn’t speak, didn’t stay where he was supposed to be.

She was still sitting on the crate when he walked back through the curtain, shoulders tight, jaw clenched, eyes unfocused. He didn’t even look around for anyone else. He came straight to her.

“Solo,” she said softly.

He stopped in front of her like he’d run out of breath. For a second, he didn’t speak. He just stared at the floor, hands shaking slightly.

Rhea reached out, fingers brushing his wrist.

“You okay?”

Solo swallowed hard. “No.”

She waited — patient, steady — until he finally sat beside her, elbows on his knees, hands clasped like he was trying to hold himself together.

“I don’t like where this is going,” he muttered. “This storyline… this whole thing… I don’t know what they’re doing with me anymore.”

Rhea shifted closer, her knee brushing his thigh. “What happened out there?”

Solo shook his head.

“I didn’t say anything. I didn’t touch anybody. I just… showed up. And it still went wrong.”

His voice cracked.

“Tama looked at me like I ruined everything. Again.”

Rhea’s hand slid to the back of his neck, grounding him.

“You didn’t ruin anything.”

Solo scoffed, bitter.

“They lost the titles because of me.”

“No,” she said firmly. “They lost because they weren’t focused. Because they let you distract them. That’s not on you.”

Solo leaned into her touch, eyes closing.

“I don’t like this direction,” he whispered. “I don’t like being the problem. I don’t like being the one they blame. I don’t like not knowing what’s coming next.”

Rhea gently turned his face toward her.

“Hey. Look at me.”

He did — and she saw everything he was trying to hide.

Fear.

Confusion.

Loneliness.

That quiet desperation he only ever showed her.

“You’re not the problem,” she said softly. “You’re just stuck in the middle of a story nobody’s explaining to you. And that’s scary. I get it.”

Solo’s voice dropped to a whisper.

“I don’t want to lose everything.”

“You won’t,” she murmured. “Not me.”

He breathed out, shaky, and Rhea pulled him closer, letting his forehead rest against hers.

“You’re allowed to be nervous,” she whispered. “You’re allowed to not like where this is going. But you’re not alone in it.”

Solo’s fingers curled around her thigh — careful of her knee, always careful — and he let himself breathe her in.

Rhea kissed his cheek, soft and slow.

“I’m right here.”

Solo didn’t say anything else. He just sat with Rhea for a moment, letting the noise of the arena fade behind them. When she finally shifted, trying to stand, he was on his feet instantly.

“Careful,” he murmured, slipping an arm around her waist.

Rhea rolled her eyes, but she didn’t pull away.

“You act like my knee’s made of glass.”

He didn’t smile.

“Feels like it.”

He helped her down the hallway, slow and steady, matching her pace. Every few steps, his hand tightened on her hip like he was making sure she was really there, really okay. When they reached the parking lot, he opened the passenger door and guided her in gently, adjusting her leg so it wouldn’t strain.

Rhea watched him walk around to the driver’s side, jaw tight, eyes still clouded from everything that happened.

“You good?” she asked softly.

Solo started the car, staring at the steering wheel for a long moment.

“I will be.”

She didn’t push. She just rested her hand on his arm, and he exhaled like that was the first real breath he’d taken all night.

The drive to the hotel was quiet — not tense, just peaceful. Rhea leaned her head against the window, and Solo kept glancing over at her knee like he expected it to suddenly fall apart. When they pulled into the lot, he was out of the car before she could even unbuckle, opening her door and offering his hand.

“Solo,” she said, amused. “I can walk.”

“I know,” he said. “Let me help anyway.”

She took his hand.

Upstairs, the room was dim and calm, the kind of quiet that felt safe. Rhea sat on the edge of the bed, adjusting her brace, and Solo grabbed the remote, flipping through channels until he found something simple — an old action movie they’d seen a hundred times.

Rhea smiled.

“This one again?”

Solo shrugged, sitting beside her.

“It’s easy. No surprises.”

She leaned into him, her head resting on his shoulder.

“Sounds perfect.”

He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close, and for the first time all night, his breathing slowed. The movie played softly in the background, but neither of them were really watching. Rhea’s fingers traced idle patterns on his forearm, and Solo’s thumb brushed her knee gently, checking without saying anything.

Rhea looked up at him.

“You’re allowed to relax, you know.”

Solo nodded, eyes softening.

“I’m trying.”

She kissed his cheek — gentle, warm, grounding.

“You’re doing fine.”

Solo let out a quiet breath and rested his forehead against hers, the tension finally melting away.

And for the rest of the night, they stayed like that — two people who’d been through too much, finding peace in the only place that still felt steady.

June 22nd 2026 Monday night raw London England

They didn’t drive to RAW.

They drove to the airport.

Solo insisted on carrying both bags — Rhea’s knee was better today, but he wasn’t taking chances. She teased him for it, but she still let him do it.

The flight was long, overnight, and quiet. WWE booked them in business class, but Solo still checked her knee brace before they sat down, adjusting the strap like he’d done a thousand times.

Rhea nudged him.

“You’re fussing again.”

Solo didn’t look up.

“Yeah.”

She smiled — soft, warm — and rested her hand on his thigh.

The plane took off, and somewhere over the Atlantic, Rhea fell asleep on his shoulder. Solo didn’t move. Didn’t shift. Didn’t breathe too loud. He just held her hand and stared out the window, thinking about Jacob’s words, Tama’s anger, Talla’s dismissal.

He didn’t like where his story was going.

He didn’t like being the problem.

He didn’t like being alone.

But Rhea was here.

Warm against him.

Breathing steady.

Staying.

When they landed in London, Solo helped her off the plane, through customs, into the rental car. The city was gray and cool, and Rhea leaned her head against the window as he drove.

“You okay?” she asked softly.

Solo nodded, but it wasn’t convincing. “I don’t know what they’re doing with me tonight.”

Rhea reached over, squeezing his hand.

“We’ll figure it out.”

Solo exhaled, slow.

“Yeah.”

They pulled into the O2 Arena parking lot, and Solo finally looked at her — really looked at her — and some of the tension eased.

They were here.

Together.

Still steady.

The O2 Arena was already buzzing when Solo and Rhea walked through the backstage doors. Production staff nodded at them — everyone knew they were together — but nobody said anything. Rhea kept close to Solo’s side, her knee brace hidden under loose black pants, hoodie pulled tight.

Rhea stayed near the monitor area, her knee propped up, hoodie pulled tight. Solo stood behind her, tense, silent, watching Jimmy and LA Knight circle each other in the ring.

Michael Cole’s voice cut through the arena noise.

“Jimmy Uso looking to get back on track tonight— but LA Knight is not an easy opponent.”

Corey Graves added sharply:

“Jimmy needs this win. Badly.”

The match picked up fast — Knight with the early offense, Jimmy firing back with a superkick, the crowd chanting “YEAH!” every time Knight moved.

Rhea felt Solo’s breathing change behind her.

“Solo…” she murmured.

He didn’t answer.

And then the crowd shifted.

A ripple.

A wave.

A sudden roar.

Cole’s voice jumped.

“Wait— SOLO SIKOA! Solo Sikoa is here!”

Graves sounded stunned.

“He wasn’t scheduled! He wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near this match!”

Solo didn’t come down the ramp.

He came through the crowd.

Silent.

Focused.

Unpredictable.

Jimmy froze mid‑movement, staring at him.

LA Knight didn’t.

Knight charged — but Jimmy dodged, turning back toward Solo, confused, angry, off‑balance.

Solo stepped forward.

And without a word—

he spiked Jimmy.

The crowd exploded.

Cole shouted:

“WHAT?! SOLO JUST DROPPED JIMMY USO!”

Graves snapped:

“He SPIKED his own brother! What is he doing?!”

Jimmy hit the mat hard, clutching his jaw, eyes wide with shock.

LA Knight looked just as confused — but he wasn’t about to waste the moment.

He grabbed Jimmy, pulled him up—

BFT.

Jimmy collapsed.

ONE. TWO. THREE.

Cole yelled:

“LA Knight wins! Solo Sikoa just cost Jimmy the match!”

Graves added:

“Jimmy had no idea what was happening — and neither do we!”

Solo didn’t celebrate.

He didn’t taunt.

He didn’t speak.

He just stared at Jimmy — hurt, angry, lost — then turned and walked back through the crowd the same way he came.

Rhea’s heart dropped.

Solo came through the curtain moments later, breathing hard, eyes unfocused, hands shaking. Rhea stood up slowly, bracing herself on the chair.

“Solo,” she said softly.

He stopped in front of her, looking like he didn’t know whether to sit, run, or break.

“I didn’t want to do that,” he muttered. “I didn’t— I didn’t want to spike him.”

Rhea stepped closer. “Then why did you?”

Solo swallowed hard, voice cracking.

“Creative told me to.”

Rhea blinked.

“What?”

“They told me to go out there,” Solo said, rubbing his hands together anxiously. “They told me to spike Jimmy. They said it’s the direction they want. They said it’s part of the story.”

Rhea’s expression softened.

“Oh, Solo…”

“I didn’t want to hurt him,” he whispered. “I didn’t want to be the reason he lost. I didn’t want to be the bad guy in this. But they told me to do it. They told me it’s what they needed.”

Rhea reached up, cupping his cheek gently.

“Hey,” she murmured. “You didn’t choose this. They did.”

Solo leaned into her touch, eyes closing, shoulders shaking.

“I don’t like this,” he whispered. “I don’t like where this is going.”

Rhea pulled him close, her forehead touching his.

“You’re not alone,” she said softly. “We’ll get through it. Together.”

Solo exhaled, shaky but calmer, holding onto her like she was the only steady thing left in his world.

SmackDown was being taped right after RAW, and the backstage area felt different — quieter, heavier, like everyone was waiting for something to break. Rhea sat with Solo on one of the production crates, her knee propped up, his arm around her shoulders. He wasn’t talking. He wasn’t pacing. He wasn’t angry.

He just looked… lost.

Rhea rubbed slow circles on his back, whispering something only he could hear. Solo didn’t respond. He just stared at the floor like he was trying to make sense of something that wouldn’t stop shifting.

Jimmy rounded the corner, still in his gear, still confused from what happened earlier. He froze when he saw them — Solo sitting with Rhea, shoulders slumped, eyes unfocused.

“Solo?” Jimmy said quietly.

Solo didn’t look up.

Rhea did — her expression soft but guarded.

“He’s okay,” she murmured. “Just… shaken.”

Jimmy stepped closer, lowering his voice.

“Man… what’s wrong with you? What happened out there?”

Solo finally lifted his head. His eyes were red, tired, scared in a way Jimmy had never seen.

“I don’t know what the company is doing to me,” Solo said, voice cracking. “I don’t know what they want. I don’t know where this is going.”

Jimmy blinked, taken aback.

“What do you mean?”

Solo swallowed hard.

“They took JC away. They took Tonga Loa away. They split up everything I had. Everything I built. Everything I thought was mine.”

Rhea’s hand tightened on his shoulder.

Solo kept going, voice low and shaky.

“I don’t know what’s next, Jim. I don’t know what they’re turning me into. I don’t know why they keep making me hurt people I care about. I don’t know why they keep taking everyone from me.”

Jimmy’s expression softened — the anger from earlier fading into something else.

“Solo… you could’ve told me.”

Solo shook his head.

“I didn’t know how.”

Rhea leaned her head against his shoulder, grounding him.

“He’s overwhelmed,” she said gently. “And he’s scared. And he’s trying to keep up with a story that keeps changing on him.”

Jimmy looked between them — Solo broken, Rhea steady — and for the first time, he understood.

Solo wasn’t trying to be the villain.

He wasn’t trying to sabotage anyone.

He wasn’t trying to hurt his own family.

He was drowning.

And Rhea was the only one keeping him afloat.

Jimmy exhaled slowly.

“Alright,” he said quietly. “Okay. I hear you.”

Solo looked at him — really looked — and something in his shoulders loosened.

Jimmy nodded once.

“We’ll figure it out.”

Solo didn’t speak, but the relief in his eyes said enough.

Rhea squeezed his hand.

And for a moment, the three of them just stayed there — the chaos outside forgotten, the story paused, the world quiet.

The SmackDown taping is underway and Solo is sitting backstage again when Talla and Tama walk up.

Solo smiles and says, “Boys, what’s up? Did you see what happened Monday? Did you see what happened to Jimmy? Roman ain’t gonna like that — he ain’t gonna like that at all.”

Tama says,

“We saw… and that’s the problem.”

Solo looks confused.

“Problem? What problem?”

Tama says,

“We’re tired of getting dragged into your war. Jimmy, Roman — all of it. Your obsession with Roman is tearing this group apart.”

Solo scoffs.

“Tama, you don’t know what you’re talking about…”

Tama interrupts him.

“Last week we told you to stay back. You didn’t listen. And now we’re standing here with no gold around our waist. And now you’re helping LA Knight.”

Solo says,

“That’s not… that’s not—”

Talla interrupts.

“Solo, we just got word from the elders. Me and Tama… we out.”

Solo says,

“Out? Hold on — out? You can’t leave.”

Tama says,

“We just did.”

They walk out, and Solo yells after them,

“You can’t leave! How you gonna leave me, huh? You can’t just walk away! I brought you here! You can’t just leave — you understand me!”

The show goes to commercial.

When the show comes back on, LA Knight is in the ring across from Solo Sikoa.

LA says,

“But ten out of ten times it’s been to fight me, been to distract me, it’s been you and I fighting in the middle of the ring. And your song says you’re taking it all… don’t know if you’re taking Jimmy… Roman…”

Solo says,

“Okay, we get it, we get it. Listen — I’m not here to fight you. Okay? If you’re looking for a fight, you’re wasting your time. I’m not here for that. I don’t know if you watched earlier, but everyone in my family has left me.”

LA pauses, then says,

“Okay, I understand — that’s gotta hurt. At the same time, my heart doesn’t pump purple piss for you losing your family. Bottom line is this: if you ask me, you losing your family with the MFTs… if you ask me, that leaves you wide open. Wide open to go right back into the fold. Right back into the Bloodline. That’s what that tells me.”

Solo shakes his head no.

LA continues,

“You think I’m gonna trust you? That you’re not just gonna go back and join them again? I’ve seen the movie — I know how it ends. Why is this different?”

Solo says,

“It’s different because I have nothing to lose. It’s different because I have no family. It’s different because it’s just me now. And the enemy of my enemy can be friends. We can work together. We can be partners and take out the Bloodline. We can watch each other’s back.”

LA says,

“Do I hate the Bloodline? YEAH. Am I outnumbered? YEAH. Have those numbers always worked against me? YEAH. Do I probably need help? YEAH. Do I need Solo Sikoa standing next to me watching my back—”

Solo interrupts,

“YEAH.”

LA says,

“Nah. I live and I die doing things my way, because it’s the only way I’ve ever known. And I will live and die the same way — being me, the only way I can, with everybody saying—”

The crowd chants,

“LA Knight! YEAH!”

LA looks at Solo and says,

“Thanks, but no thanks.”

Solo is left alone in the middle of the ring.

The moment LA Knight walked out and the crowd finished chanting, Solo stayed frozen in the middle of the ring. Alone. Completely alone. The cameras cut away, the lights shifted, and production moved on — but Solo didn’t.

He finally stepped out of the ring, walked up the ramp, and didn’t stop until he found an empty locker room. He shut the door behind him, leaned against it, and let out a breath he’d been holding for weeks.

He sat down on the bench, elbows on his knees.

And everything hit him at once.

Tama and Talla leaving.

Jimmy furious.

Roman looming.

LA Knight rejecting him.

JC gone.

Tonga Loa gone.

His whole world falling apart piece by piece.

Solo pressed his hands to his face, shoulders shaking. He tried to swallow it down, tried to breathe through it, tried to be the version of himself everyone expected.

It didn’t work.

A small, broken sound escaped his throat — the kind he never let anyone hear.

He wiped his face quickly, trying to pull himself together, trying to look like Solo Sikoa again — cold, calm, dangerous, unshakeable.

He didn’t hear the door open.

“Solo?”

Rhea’s voice was soft, careful, like she already knew.

Solo straightened instantly, wiping his face again, forcing his breathing to slow.

He didn’t look at her.

“I’m fine,” he muttered. “I’m good.”

Rhea stepped closer.

“No, you’re not.”

Solo kept staring at the floor.

“I don’t want you to see me like this.”

Rhea sat beside him, close enough that their knees touched.

“I already did.”

Solo swallowed hard, jaw tight, eyes burning again.

His voice came out small, cracked.

“I don’t know what’s coming next.”

Rhea’s expression softened.

Solo finally looked at her — eyes red, breathing shaky, trying so hard to hold himself together.

“I don’t know what they’re gonna make me do,” he whispered. “I don’t know who they’re gonna take next. I don’t know what story they’re pushing me into. I don’t know what’s waiting for me out there. I don’t know what’s gonna happen tomorrow… or next week… or at King of the Ring.”

His voice broke.

“I don’t know anything anymore.”

Rhea didn’t speak.

She just slid her hand into his.

Solo’s fingers tightened around hers immediately — desperate, scared, clinging to her like she was the last steady thing he had left.

He leaned toward her, forehead pressing against her temple, eyes squeezed shut.

“I’m tired of losing people,” he whispered. “I’m tired of being alone. I’m tired of not knowing what’s coming.”

Rhea wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close, letting him bury his face in her shoulder.

“You’re not alone,” she murmured. “Not with me.”

Solo’s breath hitched.

He held onto her tighter — arms around her waist, fingers gripping her hoodie, body shaking with every breath he tried to control.

“Don’t go,” he whispered.

It wasn’t a command.

It wasn’t a threat.

It wasn’t anger.

It was fear.

Rhea rested her cheek against his head.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Solo didn’t let her go.

Not for a long time.

Not until his breathing steadied.

Not until his shoulders relaxed.

Not until he could lift his head again.

And even then…

he kept one hand on her, like he needed the contact to stay upright.

After a moment, Rhea whispered,

“I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”

Solo nodded, barely.

Rhea slipped out of the locker room, closing the door softly behind her.

Jimmy was leaning against the wall down the hallway, arms folded, head down. He looked up when he saw Rhea.

“You with him?” Jimmy asked quietly.

Rhea nodded.

“He’s… not okay.”

Jimmy exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I figured.”

Rhea stepped closer.

“What happened out there broke him, Jimmy. He thinks he’s losing everyone.”

Jimmy hesitated, then lowered his voice.

“That’s why I waited for you.”

Rhea blinked.

“Waited for me?”

Jimmy nodded.

“Almia’s here. She brought his son.”

Rhea’s eyes widened. “She did?”

“Yeah,” Jimmy said softly. “She said he can stay with Solo tonight. Thought he might need something good after all this.”

Rhea’s chest warmed.

“Where are they?”

Jimmy pointed toward the end of the hallway.

“Down by the side entrance. I’ll bring them up when you’re ready.”

Rhea touched Jimmy’s arm gently.

“Thank you.”

Jimmy nodded once.

“Just… take care of him. He ain’t built for bein’ alone.”

Rhea’s voice softened.

“I know.”

She turned and headed back toward the locker room.

Solo was still sitting exactly where she left him, elbows on his knees, breathing slow and shaky. He looked up when she walked in, eyes red, trying to pretend he was fine.

Rhea sat beside him again, taking his hand.

“Solo,” she whispered, “I need you to trust me for a minute.”

Solo swallowed hard.

“I trust you.”

Rhea squeezed his hand.

“Good. Because… someone’s here to see you.”

Solo blinked, confused, but didn’t speak.

Rhea stood, opened the door, and nodded down the hallway.

Jimmy walked in first.

Behind him…

a tiny pair of sneakers pattered across the floor.

“Daddy!”

Solo’s breath caught.

His son ran straight into his arms, climbing onto his lap like he belonged there.

Solo froze — then everything inside him broke open in the softest way possible.

He wrapped his arms around the boy, pulling him close, burying his face in his son’s hair.

Rhea watched from the doorway, smiling softly.

Jimmy nodded at her once, then slipped out quietly, leaving them alone.

Solo held his son tighter, voice cracking.

“I missed you.”

His son giggled.

“I missed you too!”

Rhea stepped closer, kneeling beside them.

“He can stay with you tonight.”

Solo looked up at her — eyes shining, overwhelmed, grateful in a way he couldn’t put into words.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

Rhea brushed his cheek gently.

“You needed something good.”

Solo pulled her into the hug too — holding both of them like they were the only things keeping him steady.

The hotel room was calm and dim, the kind of quiet that felt safe after a night that had torn Solo apart. He unlocked the door slowly, letting Rhea and his son walk in first. The little boy looked around with wide eyes, excited just to be somewhere new.

Solo closed the door behind them, leaning on it for a moment.

He still looked tired — not physically, but in the way someone looks after carrying too much for too long.

His son tugged on his pant leg.

“Daddy, look! Big bed!”

Solo’s face softened instantly.

“Yeah, baby. Big bed.”

The boy climbed onto it, bouncing once before flopping onto his back with a giggle. Solo couldn’t help but smile — a real one, small but warm.

Rhea sat on the edge of the bed, watching the two of them with a gentle expression.

“You wanna sit with him?”

Solo nodded and walked over, sitting beside his son. The boy immediately crawled into his lap, tiny hands grabbing at Solo’s hoodie.

“Daddy, I wanna watch cartoons.”

Solo grabbed the remote and turned on the TV, flipping to something bright and silly. The boy settled against him, head on Solo’s chest, completely content.

Rhea moved closer, sitting beside them.

Solo glanced at her, eyes soft.

“You did this,” he murmured. “You brought him to me.”

Rhea brushed her fingers over his arm.

“He needed you. And you needed him.”

Solo swallowed hard, looking down at his son — small, safe, happy.

For the first time all night, Solo’s breathing was steady.

The boy pointed at the screen.

“Daddy, look! Funny guy!”

Solo chuckled quietly.

“I see him.”

Rhea leaned her head on Solo’s shoulder, watching the two of them. Solo didn’t pull away — he shifted slightly so she could rest more comfortably against him.

For a while, they just sat like that:

Solo holding his son, Rhea leaning against Solo, the cartoon filling the room with soft, harmless noise.

Eventually, the boy’s eyes started to droop.

He yawned, curling closer into Solo’s chest.

Solo rubbed his back gently.

“You tired, baby?”

The boy nodded sleepily.

“Mmhm…”

Solo lifted him carefully, laying him down on the pillows. The child grabbed Solo’s hand, refusing to let go even as he drifted off.

Solo sat beside him, brushing a hand over his son’s hair.

Rhea watched him with a soft smile.

“He’s out,” she whispered.

Solo nodded, staring at the little boy like he was the most precious thing in the world.

Rhea moved closer, touching Solo’s arm.

“You did good tonight.”

Solo turned toward her, eyes warm, full of something soft and grateful.

He leaned in and kissed her — gentle, slow, careful, like he didn’t want to break the moment.

When he pulled back, his voice was quiet but sure.

“I love you, baby.”

Rhea’s breath caught, her eyes softening.

“I love you too.”

Solo wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close against his side as his son slept peacefully beside them.

And for the first time in days…

Solo felt whole.

The End

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