"Woah, woah, careful there, Toya! Watch your bance!" James interjected, his voice a bit louder than necessary, deliberately cutting through the awkward tension. He used the fabricated concern as an excuse to quickly step forward, physically positioning himself slightly between Toya and Dipa. He reached out and made a big show of adjusting Toya’s posture during the stretch, even though her form was perfectly acceptable.

  "Gotta keep that back straight, core engaged! Remember what I said? Don't wanna risk pulling a muscle or tweaking something." He tried to sound like a genuinely concerned (and slightly overbearing) fitness partner.

  Without missing a beat, he smoothly transitioned, changing the subject with the subtlety of a foghorn. "Alright, excellent! Let's switch legs, then move onto some calf stretches," he announced, demonstrating the next movement with perhaps unnecessary enthusiasm. "Super important to make sure we cool down properly after that… insanely challenging jog we just conquered." He shot Toya a very pointed look over Dipa’s head, hoping she’d get the message: Drop it.

  Now.

  Toya caught his gre and returned a look that was a masterpiece of conflicting emotions – one part pure annoyance at having her interrogation interrupted mid-flow, two parts sparkling amusement at his btant, clumsy deflection tactics. She probably found his panic hirious. Across from them, Dipa visibly rexed, the tension draining from her shoulders like air from a balloon.

  She took an extra-deep, grateful breath and quickly refocused on meticulously copying the new calf stretch, the intense blush finally starting to fade from her cheeks. Crisis momentarily averted.

  It happened right at that exact moment. James was demonstrating a triceps stretch, arm bent behind his head, instructing them to gently push the elbow down. "Just hold it here, feel it in the back of your arm…" And then he saw her.

  Out of the corner of his eye, jogging along one of the paved pathways that crisscrossed the park, maybe fifty or sixty yards away. Mili.

  Headphones were nestled snugly in her ears, the white cord trailing down to wherever her phone was stashed. Her familiar dark ponytail bounced in rhythm with her steady, efficient stride. She looked like she was in her own world, enjoying the run, the music, the te afternoon air.

  Her eyes were doing that casual scanning thing runners do – gncing at the trees, the path ahead, other people enjoying the park. Idly taking it all in. Then, her gaze swept across their little group on the grass. James watched it happen, feeling like time had suddenly switched to slow-motion.

  He saw her eyes pause, focus, and take in the whole weird tableau: Him, James, standing quite close to Dipa, seemingly mid-instruction, looking like he was coaching her one-on-one. And right there, practically glued to his other side, was Toya, leaning against him with easy familiarity, arm still looped loosely through his from earlier, radiating 'comfortable girlfriend' vibes. The visual narrative it presented was… problematic.

  Deeply, wildly inaccurate, and just pin awful.

  Mili's smooth, rhythmic jogging pace stuttered. It wasn't a full stop, more like a sudden, jarring hesitation, as if she’d hit an unexpected patch of mental mud. James saw it clearly across the distance – the unmistakable flicker of confusion washing over her features. What is...?