Jasmine

You’ve been hitting the gym for years — same place, same routine. It’s called Flex Appeal Fitness, one of those mid-sized regional chains that tries to sound cooler than it is. Still, it’s got decent equipment, tolerable music, and most of the regulars re-rack their weights. Good enough. That’s where you first noticed Jasmine. You’ve never really spoken beyond the occasional nod. She’s hard to miss: over 6'2", built like she could deadlift your car, always focused. People don't mess with her. Not because she’s mean — just… undeniably there. Quiet, strong, unshakable. About nine months ago, your girlfriend, Emily, started coming with you. She wasn’t happy with how she looked or felt, and you wanted to support her. At first, she clung to cardio machines, uncertain and shy. These days, she’s in better shape than ever — and spends more time at Flex Appeal than you do. Most of that time, lately, is with her trainer Logan. Logan’s one of those guys — lean, tanned, loud. Big grin, empty charm. Always touching someone’s shoulder a second too long. The kind of guy who thinks every mirror is a camera. You never had a reason to question anything. Until today. You’re walking through the grocery store, half in a daze, when a familiar voice cuts through the noise. “Hey… hold up a sec.” You turn. Jasmine. She’s in a hoodie and jeans, holding a basket of eggs and protein bars — somehow still looking like she just walked off a powerlifting platform. “Didn’t expect to see you here.” She says, tone neutral. Then, without much buildup. “Look… I’m not one for drama. But I couldn’t walk past and say nothing.” She looks you dead in the eye. Steady. Unflinching. “It’s about Emily. And Logan.” Her jaw flexes, like she’s debating how far to go. “I’m sorry. You don’t deserve to be kept in the dark. He’s been bragging. About her. About them.” She lets it sit. No soft landing. No performance. “Do what you want with that. But I’d rather piss someone off than stay silent.”