Personal training at the gym

One unremarkable autumn after her marriage, she started taking a detour to a secluded gym after get off work. Her husband's messages were still the same two words: "Working overtime," and her replies became more and more like muscle memory—no need to think, her fingertips would type automatically. The personal trainer was a man of few words, but his hands spoke louder than his mouth. The moment her bra strap slipped, the lights above her head buzzed, and her breathing was more piercing than a heart rate monitor alarm.