“The Stair Climber!” Rhys says proudly, reaching the tall machine.
I groan instantly. My legs are ready to give up the ghost at any minute, and my head is spinning from my eight hundred-calorie daily limit. I don’t know if I can handle this.
Sensing my hesitation, Rhys takes my hand and leads me onto the first step. He throws my stuff roughly onto the floor next to us and turns the machine on.
“This machine will shred that fat and tone your arse in no time. You know I’m an arse man, Mat.”
“Of course.” I nod determinedly. I could at least try. For my marriage, for my husband and for my sanity, I will try. Luckily, this part of the room is fairly quiet, so I don’t feel quite as self-conscious.
“Okay, off you go then.” Rhys presses the start button, andI slowly climb the moving stairs. Rhys gives me a pleased wink and slaps my arse before leaving me alone again.
After that first fateful day, Rhys put me on a gruelling training regime. That evening, he printed off my daily schedule and pinned it up on the living room wall. It was daunting to look at and even worse to try to fulfil. I was booked onto an hour-long class each morning, ranging from spin to HIIT to Pilates, and I had a two-hour training session with Rhys each day after lunch. The week was utterly exhausting. But next week looks even worse.
As well as my morning class and post-lunch session with my personal trainer-slash-husband-slash-torturer, Rhys has added in an afternoon walk ‘to loosen your muscles after working so hard’. He expects me to walk five miles daily, come rain or shine. Personally, I think a hot bath would loosen my muscles just as well, but who am I to argue with the expert?
Despite my constant groaning and whinging, I’m determined to follow through on my promise to be better. I’ve attended all the morning classes, even if I do have to arrive an hour early so I have time to have a panic attack in my car beforehand. Rhys is religiously keeping track of my food app, but I would be sticking to my allowance regardless. I’ve found a routine with my food that makes it easy to stick to. There’s very little variety, I’m always hungry, and I feel woozy whenever I move, but at least I know where I stand. Fruit salad for breakfast and a regular salad for lunch and dinner. Simple.
I was hoping that by spending more time together, Rhys and I would feel closer, and that he’d feel proud of the effort I’m putting in. It’s what he wanted, after all. But Rhys has been more and more distant lately, and I think I know why.
We still haven’t had sex since we got back together. I’m still not sure I’m ready for that, but even if I was, he’s running me ragged, quite literally, with his workout plans. I don’t have the energy left at the end of the day to lift my arms to wash my hair properly in the shower, let alone sleep with someone. And, despite my hard work, I don’t yet look or feel any better than I did before, so my confidence is still at an all-time low.
Putting those thoughts out of my mind, I tread the familiar walk to the changing rooms at the gym, put my belongings in a locker and head off to find Rhys. I find him in the office, talking animatedly to one of his colleagues, a man of the same height and build as Rhys. Same age and haircut too, actually. It must be part of the criteria to work at a place like this.
When Rhys spots me, his smile falters slightly. I keep smiling broadly anyway, hoping it will be infectious. It’s not.
“Ah, Mat! Sorry, Muffin, I’ve got a shit ton of stuff to catch up on here,” he says, feigning frustration. “You okay to sort yourself out for this session? You know what to do, right?”
I do know what to do, but the thought of doing it without Rhys’s presence causes my anxiety to flare up. He’s never stayed with me while I worked out, just turns up to move me on to the next exercise and set the controls for me, but I always felt reassured that he was around. Now I’m going it alone, and I’m terrified.
“Okay. Yeah, sure, of course!” I start to back away. I try my best to look confident, but my shaking hands are a giveaway. Rhys’s friend dips his head to hide his smirk and my face flushes scarlet.
I turn away quickly and make a beeline for the treadmills for my usual half-hour jog. I pounce on the opportunity to use one of the quiet treadmills in the corner that Rhys usually won’t let me go near. Setting up the pad as I’ve seen Rhys do so many times before, I start my run.
By the time I’m done, I’m sweaty and breathless and still feeling like a fish out of water. Keeping my head down to avoid seeing how many people are staring at me and, more importantly, so I don’t see my own reflection, I shuffle over to the stair climber. I take a deep breath as I look up at the machine, and the room spins. I wait for the now-familiar sensation to pass, then step on.
I’ve been climbing for five minutes when the room spins again. This time, as I’m standing on a set of moving stairs, it’s harder to refocus.
It’s fine – it’ll pass. No pain, no gain, fatty.
I keep climbing, not wanting to have to start all over again if I stop, but my foot slips. I feel the world around me spin in slow motion and my head split open.
Then everything goes black.
Chapter 23
Can you hear me?
“Oh my God!”
“Are you alright, love?”
“Does anyone know first aid?”
I’m not sure where the voices are coming from, but they sound distant and muffled. Maybe I’m underwater? I’m certainly finding it difficult to breathe, and my head feels wet. I try to open my eyes, but the bright lights above me cause my head to pound, so I shut them tight.
“Don’t move her!”
“Does anyone know her name?”
