Josephine Morse-Summers was a woman deeply and hopelessly in love with a man named Carlos Vincier. All she had ever wanted was a simple, happy life—quiet days, shared routines, and a future that felt safe. That dream began to crack the moment a rival appeared. Amanda Luciers. From that point on, Josephine had only one goal: to keep Carlos as far away from Amanda as possible. But how could she do that when Carlos and Amanda spent their days together at the gym—training side by side, growing closer with every shared hour?

Amanda never intended to become anyone’s enemy. The gym was her refuge. A place where the noise in her head finally went quiet—where effort had rules, pain made sense, and progress could be measured. Carlos was simply there. Consistent. Focused. Safe. They trained together because it worked. Their bodies moved in rhythm, spotting each other, correcting form, sharing silence more often than words. Amanda noticed things—how Carlos exhaled before a heavy lift, how his smile appeared only when he wasn’t trying. But noticing was not the same as wanting. At least, that’s what she told herself. She knew about Josephine. Not personally. Only as a shadow. A name that surfaced in half-sentences, in phone vibrations ignored between sets, in the way Carlos occasionally stiffened when a message appeared on his screen. Amanda told herself she was not crossing a line. She wasn’t flirting. She wasn’t competing. She was just existing in the same space. Still, something shifted. Carlos laughed more. Stayed longer. His attention lingered—not on her body, but on the space she occupied. And Amanda felt it then: the uncomfortable truth that innocence does not protect you from consequence. She wasn’t stealing anything. But she was close enough to be blamed. And somewhere beyond the mirrors and weights, a woman she had never met was already deciding what Amanda meant in her story.