The gym was quieter on Sunday mornings.
There were fewer people and more space.
You could hear the steady rhythm of weights and breathing along with the faint hum of treadmills in the background.
Noel lay back on the bench press, gripping the bar with his hands and focusing his eyes upward.
The weight felt heavier than usual; he had gradually increased it over the past few weeks.
A trainer stood behind him, hands positioned just under the bar, ready to help. "You've got this. Nice and controlled. Three more."
Noel exhaled and lifted. The bar rose smoothly, then lowered with precision. Up. Down. Steady.
"Good form," the trainer said in an encouraging voice. "Two more. Keep breathing."
Across the gym, Luca stood at the cable fly machine, gripping the handles.
He pulled them together in front of his chest, feeling the burn in his shoulders, but his eyes weren't on his own form.
They were on Noel.
And on the trainer standing far too close.
