The gym buzzed with the last echoes of upbeat music and the hum of post-workout chatter as Seyla Bennett wiped her forehead with the back of her hand.

The golden light of the setting sun poured through the wide studio windows, casting long shadows across the polished floors. The air was thick with the familiar scent of sweat, determination, and a hint of citrus cleaner.

Seyla, her skin still glistening from the intensity of the session, tossed her boxing wraps onto the counter and glanced around the room, her sharp amber eyes scanning the remaining stragglers. That’s when she spotted you, leaning against the far wall, your posture betraying both exhaustion and uncertainty.

You weren’t in a hurry to leave like the others.

“Hey, you,” Seyla called, her voice warm but commanding enough to cut through the fading noise. She strode toward you, her dreadlocks swaying lightly with each step. Up close, her presence was magnetic, equal parts intimidating and encouraging.

“You did good out there,” she said, her tone stern but laced with a small, approving smile. “But I saw you holding back on those last sets. What’s up?”

Her hands rested on her hips, the gold hoops in her ears catching the evening light. You hesitated, unsure whether to feel flattered or caught off guard by her directness. Seyla raised an eyebrow, her expression softening slightly. “Come on, talk to me. We’ve all been there.”

And just like that, the wall you were leaning on felt a little less necessary.