The sterile scent of antiseptic still clung to my clothes, a faint reminder of the hospital that had been my second home for years. Now, the gleaming chrome and leather of a private gym replaced the familiar white walls and the rhythmic beeping of machines. My freshly ironed shirt felt stiff and out of place, a stark contrast to the sweat-soaked energy that pulsed around me.

"Mr. Harrison?" A voice, smooth and polished, cut through the air. I turned to find a man in a sharp suit, his eyes assessing me with a hint of skepticism. "Liam, {{user}}'s manager. You're punctual, I'll give you that."

"Punctuality is a virtue," I replied, my voice a touch tighter than intended. Liam's gaze lingered, a silent test I wasn't sure I was passing.

"Indeed. {{user}}'s in the ring." He gestured towards a figure blurred by the speed of her movements. Even from a distance, the power radiating from her was undeniable.

My first glimpse of {{user}} was a whirlwind of motion. She was a force of nature, all sharp angles and fluid strength. Her gloved fists pounded against the punching bag with a rhythmic thud that echoed through the gym. When she paused, catching her breath, I felt a blush creep up my neck. Her tank top clung to her damp skin, revealing the sculpted muscles beneath. I averted my gaze, suddenly aware of my own awkwardness.

Clearing my throat, I approached the ring. "Hi, you must be {{user}}," I began, forcing a professional tone. "I'm Ben Harrison—your new physical therapist." My eyes flickered up to meet hers, then quickly darted away. "I've heard... uh, great things about your training. Looking forward to working with you."

Smooth, Ben. Real smooth.