This seems to be a new trend.
Confronting Jillian.
Driving to St. Mary’s gym, I steal glances at Carlie sitting beside me. She’s quiet, her gaze fixed on the passing cars. I can almost hear the jumble of thoughts in her head as the past and present collide and we approach our destination.
I think about the stories she’s shared with me—the stark contrast between her sessions with me and those with Jillian. She once described Jillian as a ‘militaristic drill sergeant.’ That’s a far cry from the approach I’ve always tried to take with her.
Hell, with everyone.
A part of me still can’t even fathom what was going through Jillian’s head when she acted that way. Sure, she’d always been more focused on appearance, but truthfully, that made her a good trainer. She could spot the places on a client that could be improved.
But she was never mean about it—at least, that I knew of.
Until Carlie.
Whether it’s a solitary incident or an epidemic, I don’t know.
All I know is that the woman beside me deserved better.
I’ve seen her struggle, but also grow. Her determination and resilience have blossomed with each session we’ve had together. It’s a transformation that goes beyond physical strength, though.
It touches the very core of who she is.
“Hey,” I say, breaking the silence and reaching out to take her hand in mine, “remember how far you’ve come since those first sessions at the gym? You’ve grown in ways Jillian could never understand.”
She turns to me, a flicker of that fierce determination I’ve come to admire shining in her eyes. “I know, Adam. It’s just ... facing her, it’s like facing a ghost of who I used to think I was. It’s weird. And terrifying. And … oddly exhilarating.”
“And you’re going to show that ghost just how much you’ve changed,” I assure her, squeezing her hand gently. “Jillian’s part in your story ... it’s over. Today, you close that chapter.”
Carlie nods, a resolute expression settling over her features. “We both do.”
“Definitely,” I agree with a nod.
As we pull into the parking lot, the enormity of what we’re about to do hits me. This isn’t just any gym—it’s a place where people come to heal and to improve themselves.
And that’s exactly what Carlie has been doing—in more ways than one.
We get out of the car and walk towards the hospital entrance. The automatic doors slide open, ushering us into the familiar, sterile scent of the hospital—a blend of cleanliness and medicine that’s oddly comforting. No matter how long I’ve been away, there will always be a part of me that feels like I’m coming home here.
Walking through the long corridors, we pass by busy nurses and doctors, patients moving slowly with their IV stands, and visitors carrying flowers and gifts. The soft buzz of conversations and the occasional beep of medical equipment create a backdrop to our own silent determination.
Carlie’s steps are measured, her eyes taking in the surroundings. I can tell she’s drawing strength from the resilience on display all around us. This place, a sanctuary of healing and hope, seems to embolden her.
Silently, we make our way to the gym—located in a wing of the hospital dedicated to physical therapy and wellness. As we pass through the threshold, the atmosphere changes.
The clinical ambiance of the hospital gives way to the energetic environment of the gym. The clanking of weights, the rhythmic hum of treadmills, and the muted thuds of medicine balls create a symphony of exertion and perseverance.
Pausing just inside the door, I notice Carlie’s hands are shaking slightly.
I reach over and pull her into a hug. “Hey, you sure you’re up for this?”
Carlie looks up at me, her green eyes flickering. “Yeah, I’m sure. It’s something I need to do. It feels … important.”
I nod, understanding her need for closure. “I’m here for you, every step of the way. You know that, right?”
She gives me a small, tentative smile. “I do. And having you here ... it means everything to me.”
Leaning over, I place a kiss on her temple and whisper, “So fucking brave.”
Carlie pauses for a moment at the entrance, taking a deep breath.
As she stands taller, it becomes clear to me she’s no longer the woman who shrinks away from confrontation. She’s someone ready to stand her ground.
“Remember,” I whisper to her as we pause just outside the main gym space, “no matter what happens in there, I’m proud of you.”
Carlie nods, her gaze fixed on Jillian. “Thanks, Adam. That means a lot.”
Again, I can’t help but kiss her. My lips brush her forehead and she sighs into my touch.
We walk into the gym together, the familiar sounds and smells wrapping around us. I can feel the tension radiating from Carlie as her eyes zero in on Jillian across the room, her back turned to us, confidently instructing a client.
Carlie squares her shoulders and rolls her neck, a physical manifestation of her mental preparation. Her transformation from the tentative, self-doubting woman I first met to the confident, self-assured person she is at this moment is a palpable thing.
We’re not just walking through a gym—we’re walking into a moment of reckoning.
“Ready?” I ask softly.
She nods, releasing my hand to stand alone. This conversation—it’s her battle to fight, but she knows I’m right there with her. A silent pillar of strength for her to lean on.
Jillian’s smile is all carefully orchestrated personal trainer charm, but her eyes narrow when she sees the two of us. They zero in on Carlie’s determined stance and a barely veiled sneer flickers to her face. Without even a moment’s hesitation, she walks over to us.
“Carlie, Adam, what brings you here … together?” she asks, her tone patronizing.
I can see in the shadows that flicker in her eyes, she wasn’t expecting a united front.
Hell, she probably wasn’t expecting any front.
She probably thought her BS would break us apart.
Carlie doesn’t miss a beat, though. “I’m here to close a chapter, Jillian. One where the antagonist gets her comeuppance.” Her voice is steady, her writer’s mind turning this confrontation into a climactic scene.
I chuckle under my breath, sliding my hands into my pockets, and looking forward to however this thing plays out.
“What are you even on about?” Jillian, as expected, rolls her eyes. “Please, spare me your dramatics, Carlie, and talk like a normal person.”
Carlie steps forward, undeterred. Her nostrils flare and her hands clench into fists at her side. “This isn’t drama, Jillian. This is you, being called out on your web of lies. Like any poorly written villain, you underestimated the hero.”
Jillian laughs, a sharp, derisive sound. “And let me guess, you think you’re the hero in this story.”
Carlie’s eyes flash emerald. “Every story has its hero, Jillian. Sometimes they’re hidden in the shadows, but they always emerge. And when they do, villains like you fall.”
Irritation flickers across Jillian’s face. She’s not used to being spoken to like this. It’s only a matter of time before she lashes out. I take a step closer to Carlie, ready for it.
“You’re delusional,” Jillian spits out. “This is real life, not a silly novel. God, you’re such a loser. I can see why the two of you were drawn together. You definitely deserve each other’s crazy. So, good luck with that.”
Jillian’s eyes flit to me and all I can do is huff a laugh. If she thinks that comeback is going to hurt either one of us, she’s the delusional one.
Carlie’s face hardens, her voice cutting through the gym’s ambient noise. A couple of gym-goers stop their reps to gawk as she takes a step into Jillian’s space and says, “Let’s talk about real life, Jillian. Like how you treated me when you were my trainer. Remember all the ways you kept trying to make me feel small? Or the times you told me I was too hopeless to get fit? That was you trying to break me—to project your own insecurities onto me.”
Jillian’s smirk fades, replaced by a look of contempt. “You were a waste of my time, Carlie. Clumsy, incapable of …”
Carlie interrupts her, her voice rising with conviction. “No, Jillian. I was a project you failed at because you were too consumed with your own jealousy. I didn’t know about your history with Adam at the time—but you did. You saw a potential relationship happening between us and you tried to stifle it. But here I am, stronger, not because of you, but in spite of you. And that relationship you tried to kill off, it’s a reality now.”
Jillian scoffs, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Oh, please. You’re giving yourself too much credit. You’re—”
Carlie cuts her off again, her tone unwavering. “Oh, and let’s not forget how you spread those lies about Adam using me for his business, then concocted stories about him crawling back to you. That’s the kind of plot twist you see in cheap thrillers, not in this ‘real life’ you seem so fond of. Your heart isn’t just black, Jillian—it’s a void. A place where empathy and decency go to die.”
Jillian’s face turns a deep shade of red, her fury palpable. “You think standing here makes you something special? You’re nothing, Carlie.”
The tension in the gym is palpable, with bystanders stealing glances at the unfolding drama.
Carlie’s voice, however, carries a note of finality as she huffs a humorless laugh. “This is where your part in my story ends, Jillian. You’re just another lesson along my journey. My only wish is no one else would ever have to deal with you. You’re not fit to train anyone.”
“I hate to break it to you, but I’m good at my job. Just because you couldn’t trade your two left feet for ones that work, doesn’t change that fact. So, if you even think about fucking me over—I’ll bury you.” Jillian’s face is the epitome of rage as she spits out, “God, you’re such a b—”
Her venomous words are cut short by a gasp from the crowd.
We all turn to see an older gentleman, distinguished and clearly important, his eyes fixed on Jillian with a mix of shock and disapproval. He’s wearing a polo shirt with the gym’s logo and “Board Member” embroidered beneath it.
Oh, shit. Mr. Richards.
Jillian’s eyes widen in panic.
Mr. Richards steps forward, his voice stern. “Is this how you represent our gym, Jillian? By belittling our members and having a heated argument in front of everyone?”
Jillian stammers, trying to regain her composure, but her usual charm is failing her now. “I ... Mr. Richards, it’s not what it looks like. I was just—”
“I’ve heard enough. Your behavior is unacceptable,” he says, pointing to the door. “We’ll discuss this in the conference room. Now.”
Jillian’s face turns pale, her usual confidence evaporating. When she glances at us, her expression is a mixture of hatred and defeat.
Carlie lets out a jagged breath and turns to me with a triumphant sparkle in her eye. “Looks like the villain’s arc just ended.”
I chuckle under my breath. That’s one way of putting it.
Carlie steps back, letting Jillian and Mr. Richards pass. In the movement, she bumps into a gym-goer walking by with a chocolate protein shake in his hand.
The collision sends the shake flying right onto Jillian’s back as she’s ushered away by Mr. Richards. It sticks to her designer gym gear, looking like a bathroom disaster gone terribly wrong.
The gym erupts in a cacophony of gasps and stifled laughter. Carlie’s eyes widen in horror—and then amusement.
“Well, I guess that’s the messy climax this story deserved,” she mutters under her breath.
Jillian whirls around, her shriek echoing through the gym. The sight of her, covered in chocolate protein shake, looking both furious and ridiculous, draws the attention of anyone who missed the earlier confrontation.
“This is outrageous!” she yells, pointing an accusatory finger at Carlie. “You did that on purpose.”
“It was an accident.” Carlie, for a moment, looks mortified. But then, she straightens up, meeting Jillian’s fury with a calm defiance. “I’m sorry about the shake, Jillian, but maybe it’s a metaphor. Sometimes life throws messy things at you. It’s how you handle them that shows your true character.”
Jillian’s eyes darting around the gym as she realizes she’s the center of a scene she can’t control.
“You ... you did this on purpose!” she stammers again, trying to wipe the sticky mess off her clothes. When it doesn’t work, she whirl on Carlie, giving her a shove.
The gym-goer who accidentally collided with Carlie steps in, pushing Jillian back before I can step in. “Like the lady said, it was an accident, Jillian.”
Jillian looks desperately at Mr. Richards, who’s watching the scene with a grim expression. “Mr. Richards, I can explain—”
Mr. Richards holds up a hand, stopping her mid-sentence. “Enough, Jillian. This incident, along with your earlier behavior, is completely unbecoming of our gym’s standards. Please, gather your things. You are suspended until the rest of the board can meet to discuss your future here.”
Jillian gasps, stumbling after him as the gym slowly returns to its regular buzz of activity. Carlie watches her go with an expression of vindication clear across her face.
I lean closer to Carlie, whispering, “You okay?”
Sighing deeply, she turns to me and grins. “Every good story needs a dramatic ending, right?”