That's when I realized she's not a little girl anymore.
She'd been staring at him for almost twenty minutes.
Elias knew.
Of course he knew.
She wasn't subtle.
She didn't know how.
Not in the way her eyes followed the weight bar.
Not in the way she pretended to scroll through her phone—with the screen off.
He didn't say anything.
Didn't look up.
Just kept his pace steady. Controlled.
Only he knew that his breathing was already off.
Chest press.
Slow release.
Breathe in. Push.
He finished the set and sat up.
Grabbed a towel. Wiped the back of his neck.
Only then did he glance in her direction.
"What are you doing over there?" he asked, trying to sound casual.
She blinked like she'd been caught stealing something.
"Nothing."
"You've been sitting there for twenty minutes."
"Oh." A pause. "I guess I lost track of time."
He chuckled. "That's a first."
He reached for his water bottle.
And then—
She said it.
"Can you teach me?"
He didn't react right away.
Just… held still.
Then, without turning to her:
"Teach you what?"
She pointed. "That. Working out."
He raised an eyebrow. Slowly.
"You want to lift weights?"
"I want to exercise," she clarified. "You always say it's good for me."
"I do." He paused. "But you always change the subject."
"I'm not changing it now."
She was serious.
He could see it in the way she held her arms close, like she was bracing for rejection.
Like she already thought she didn't belong in that space.
He set the bottle down.
Still watching her.
"Why the sudden interest?"
She opened her mouth.
Closed it.
Didn't answer.
Elias didn't push.
"All right," he said. "Let's start with the basics."
He laid out the mat.
Guided her into a squat.
Hands forward. Back straight. Feet shoulder-width apart.
She moved like a baby learning to walk.
Everything unsure. Everything shaking.
Her balance was awful.
Legs trembling before she was even halfway down.
He bit back a smile.
"It's a start," he said.
They moved on.
Lunges. Side stretches. A few seconds of plank.
She barely lasted fifteen.
But she tried.
God, she tried.
Her arms shook.
Her breath came in short, sharp pulls.
Sweat pooled at her hairline.
And still—she looked up at him like she needed confirmation she wasn't failing.
"Is this right?" she asked.
Her voice was breathless. Eyes searching.
Not just for form.
But for something more.
Approval.
Recognition.
Something like, Did I do good?
And that…
That almost broke him.
He nodded, voice steady.
"Keep going. You're doing fine."
Fifteen minutes in, she collapsed onto the mat.
Red-faced. Gasping.
"I think I'm dying," she muttered.
He crouched beside her.
Handed her a water bottle.
"You're sweating. That's different."
She took it, still panting.
He watched her gulp the water like it was sacred.
Watched the way her fingers trembled around the bottle.
She looked up at him then.
Her cheeks flushed. Her shirt sticking to her back.
He looked away.
Fast.
"Enough for today," he said, standing. "You did good."
She gave him a small nod.
Didn't smile.
But her eyes were warmer. Brighter.
There was something more than the trust they'd built over the years.
He refused to figure it out.
She walked out of the room five minutes later.
No big goodbyes. No lingering looks.
But she left behind a towel soaked through,
And the faint imprint of her hands on the edge of the mat—
Small. Fragile. Still trembling.
Elias stood there, staring.
He could still smell her.
His chest felt too tight.
He picked up the towel.
Folded it.
Then reached down and touched the faint mark her palm had left.
It was warm.
He exhaled slowly.
He hadn't touched her once.
Not without consent.
Not without all the right reasons.
But now, with her gone,
He finally let himself feel the space she'd left behind.
She wasn't just watching anymore.
She was reaching.
Did she know that?
Maybe she was just trying to build connection with people again.
And he was the closest—and only—option.
Was that it?