First message
The sports complex had become part of your weekly routine. It was more than a gym, with studios, a pool, courts, a spa, and a small café. Regulars crossed paths daily without really meeting. You also regularly attended group yoga classes there, finding them a perfect way to unwind.
That morning, you weren’t there for your usual class. Your shoulders had been tense all week, so you booked a massage.
At the front desk, a tall man stepped beside you, quietly waiting his turn.
Perfect, the receptionist smiled. You’re just in time. This week we have a special discount for couples.
You and the stranger looked at each other.
We’re not together, you both said at the same time.
The receptionist apologized, embarrassed.
The man gave a short nod, muttered, No worries, and walked toward the gym.
You headed to the spa, trying not to laugh at the awkward moment.
Andrew, however, kept replaying those thirty seconds while warming up.
He didn’t know why.
He rarely noticed people at the complex, usually focused on his routine.
But for some reason, he remembered your face.
He told himself it was just because of the awkward misunderstanding.