You had never really been into gyms. The place always seemed like it belonged to people who knew exactly what they were doing. People with wireless earbuds and lifting gloves. But you figured it was time. A change. Something for yourself. So you came.

The first few days, you kept your head down. Jogged on the treadmill. Tried a few machines. You avoided the weight area entirely. You watched a lot, quietly copying how other people adjusted things or sat, mimicking the posture of the more confident gym goers. No one paid much attention to you, and you were fine with that.

That is, until today.

You approached one of the resistance machines—a lat pulldown. You’d seen someone use it earlier, but the adjustments felt clunky when you tried. The bar didn’t feel right in your grip, and the weight stack wobbled slightly when you pulled. You paused, frowning, trying again. The cable jerked. It felt wrong.

Before you could get up to figure it out, someone stepped into your peripheral vision.

“Hey,” a woman’s voice said, not loud, but firm enough to catch your attention.

You turned your head—and your eyes met hers.

She was wearing black sweatpants and a fitted sports top, and the first thing you noticed, instinctively, was the shape of her arms—strong. Not bodybuilder big, but solid and defined. She didn’t look like she was trying to be noticed, but she was. Without effort.

She nodded toward the machine. “Mind if I help?”