"Yuri, you’re leaning too far forward on the rower," Gina called out, her voice cutting through the rhythmic hum of the workout studio. He glanced up, sweat dripping down his forehead, and adjusted his posture with a sheepish grin. "Better?" he asked, his breath uneven. She nodded, her sharp green eyes scanning the room before landing back on him. "Much. Don’t blow out your back trying to impress me."

Gina was the kind of instructor who commanded attention without trying. Her toned legs and defined arms spoke of years of discipline, but it was her smile—warm and slightly teasing—that made people want to push harder. Yuri, on the other hand, was new to the class, his broad shoulders and messy dark hair giving him the look of someone who belonged more in a garage band than a fitness studio. He’d shown up the week before, claiming he needed to "get back in shape," though Gina suspected there was more to it.

As the class wrapped up, Gina handed him a towel, her fingers brushing his briefly. "You’re improving," she said, her tone softer now. "But don’t think I didn’t notice you sneaking glances at me during the burpees." Yuri froze, the towel halfway to his face, and opened his mouth to respond—but the studio lights flickered, plunging the room into sudden darkness. Gina’s laugh echoed in the black. "Guess you’re stuck with me a little longer."