In The Morning| 18+

TWO

T E R E S A

"Feel the burn ladies!" June calls out, her voice sharp yet encouraging.

I let out a breathless sigh, pushing my legs up and down in rhythmic flutter kicks. June is right—I am feeling the burn, especially in my lower abdomen. Every muscle in my core screams for relief, but I keep pushing through. That's the whole point of Pilates, right? To sculpt, to tone. To make it worth it.

It's 4:37 a.m. on a Saturday, and here I am, on the mat, fighting through the exhaustion because I want to be toned. So, I suck it up and keep going, despite every fiber of my body begging for a break.

"And that's time, ladies!" June announces, her voice full of satisfaction. The other women in my class immediately release their legs, but I do one last set, powering through the final few seconds before I finally stop, unhooking my legs and gently twisting my torso to place my feet on the ground.

I grab my workout bag, unzip it, and pull out a towel, pressing it to my face to catch the sweat that's been dripping down my forehead.

"How do you feel?" June asks, walking over with a wide grin. She's practically glowing after the workout. I smile weakly, wiping the towel across my face before answering.

"I feel like my abdomen is going to stage a rebellion and just...jump out and kill me one day. What about you?" I joke, my voice muffled by the towel as I slowly sit up.

She laughs, helping me to my feet. "You'll live," she teases, patting me on the back. I grab my bag, zip it up, and sling it over my shoulder.

"See you tomorrow?" she asks, already turning to walk off.

I nod, offering a small wave as I head for the door. "You got it," I reply, giving her a fist bump before she disappears down the hallway.

I step outside, the cool morning air immediately hitting my skin. The darkness of the early hour wraps around me like a heavy blanket. I pull out my car keys and click the unlock button, yawning as I open the door and toss my bag into the passenger seat. The familiar scent of leather and old coffee greets me as I slide into the driver's seat, adjusting my rearview mirror.

With a sigh, I start the engine, the quiet hum of the car breaking the stillness of the early morning. I fasten my seatbelt and crack my knuckles, preparing myself for the long drive home.

I hate driving. It's funny—when I was a kid, I couldn't wait to get behind the wheel. I remember being thirteen, excited to drive around the neighborhood with my father, feeling the thrill of control as we cruised down the streets together. Now, at thirty-three—almost thirty-four—I've been behind the wheel for over twenty years, and I can't stand it.

The repetitive motion, the monotony, the exhaustion. Driving has lost its thrill, and now it just feels like another task to endure. Jasper's offered to hire a driver for me countless times, but I've always turned him down. I don't see the point. My schedule's never fixed, and I'd feel guilty having someone else drive me around all the time.

I tap my keycard against the gate sensor as I approach, the heavy gates slowly creaking open. As they part, I drive through, the engine purring beneath me, a stark contrast to the silence of the early morning. Jasper insisted we move into a gated community for privacy, and then insisted we install a gate at the front of our house. It's his idea of security, of control. I don't mind, though. It's quiet, and it gives me a sense of solitude. Something I never knew I needed.

But it doesn't change the fact that I'm still just...tired. Of everything. Of driving. Of living this way. It all feels like a loop I can't escape.