Dhum dhum dhum dhum dhum—
The rhythmic thud of Syn's sneakers pounded the treadmill, the gym's air buzzing with the hum of machinery and the faint tang of sweat.
Four days had passed since Vera's good news, and Syn's recovery had surged, his ankles—once brittle and bound—now steady as he pushed through the fifth mile.
Aster stood beside him, her gym attire hugging her broad frame—black leggings and a teal tank top that clung to her toned curves, her blonde ponytail swaying as she watched him with a mix of pride and something happy.
The treadmill's timer beeped, a shrill chime cutting through the rhythm, and Syn slowed to a stop, his chest heaving, his navy shirt damp with exertion.
He stepped off, his legs wobbling faintly but holding strong, and Aster grinned, slapping his palm in a high five before tossing him a towel.
"Good run," she said, her teal eyes glinting as they walked, her voice warm but edged with a playful challenge.
