The gym smelled like bleach and motivation. Machines clinked softly. Air conditioning hummed. Cindy rolled in like she owned the place.

She spotted Harry near the pulley machine, shirt clinging to his back, jaw clenched tight.

No Christina. No playlist. No jokes. Just tension.

Perfect.

"Wow," she said, parking her chair beside him. "You look like you're training to fight your demons and lose."

He didn't respond. Just kept pulling.

Cindy raised a brow. "Silent treatment? That's new. Did the walking bars break your legs or just your pride?"

Harry dropped the cable mid-rep and turned to her slowly. "Cindy. I swear."

"You swear what?" she said sweetly. "You'll glare at me harder? Please. My mum's glares are scarier than that."

He stared at her.

She stared back.

"You're not gonna get rid of me," she said with a shrug. "I've got nowhere better to be, and irritating you is basically rehab for my upper body."

Harry sighed and leaned back in his chair. "You ever think of minding your own business?"

"Oh, every day. And then I remember how boring that is."

He shook his head, but his mouth twitched. That nearly-smile he tried to suppress.

She leaned in a bit. "You miss her, don't you?"

He froze.

"I wasn't—"

"Don't lie," she interrupted. "You're bad at it. And anyway, everyone's talking. Coach hasn't been here since yesterday. Rumour has it she stormed out with murder in her eyes and mascara on her cheeks."

Harry looked away. "She's fine."

"No, she's not fine," Cindy said, sharper now. "She's pissed. She's hurt. She's also the best physio here, and you—dumbass that you are—let her walk away."

He exhaled slowly. "You wouldn't get it."

Cindy folded her arms. "Try me."

He stayed quiet.

"I dare you," she added.

Finally, he looked at her. Really looked at her.

"I don't like being seen like this," he said quietly. "Weak. Pathetic. Needing help just to stand."

Cindy's expression softened slightly. "Harry, no one thinks—"

"She sees me," he cut in. "All of me. The worst parts. And I can't hide from her when she's kneeling in front of me, holding my leg like I might shatter."

Silence.

"And you know what the worst part is?" His voice cracked slightly. "I like her. I—really like her."

Cindy blinked.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Ohhhhhh."

Harry ran a hand through his sweaty curls, then let it fall uselessly in his lap. "And it's not just a crush. I respect her. I admire her. I think about her when I shouldn't. I know she's just doing her job, but every time she touches me, I forget how broken I am."

Cindy's lips parted, but she didn't speak.

"She believes in me," he said, quieter now. "More than I do. And that... that scares the shit out of me."

A long pause.

Then Cindy nodded slowly. "Okay. So, basically... you pushed her away because she makes you feel things. And you're afraid of looking vulnerable in front of someone you actually care about."

Harry looked down.

"That about sums it up."

She let that hang in the air for a moment. Then:

"You're a complete idiot."

"I know."

"No, like—world-class, trophy-winning idiot."

He smiled. A real one, small but honest.

"And also," she added, pointing at him, "a massive romantic sap. Which I did not see coming."

He laughed under his breath.

"I mean, damn," she said, rolling back and folding her arms. "You're out here bench-pressing your feelings like they're kettlebells. Just tell her."

"I can't just tell her."

"Why not?"

"What am I supposed to say? 'Hi, sorry I requested a transfer because you're perfect and I'm terrified of disappointing you and also I want to kiss you when you're not looking'? Yeah, that'll go over well."

Cindy grinned. "Exactly like that, minus maybe the kissing part. Save that for when she doesn't want to strangle you."

Harry dropped his head into his hands.

Cindy rolled forward and gave his arm a gentle tap.

"You've got a second chance, Styles. Don't blow it. You want her? Start by being honest. First with her. Then with yourself."

Harry looked over at her. "You're annoyingly wise."

She smirked. "I have my moments."

Harry sat with his phone resting on his thigh like it weighed a hundred pounds.

Cindy, beside him in her chair, was scrolling her own phone and chewing gum like she was waiting for something to explode.

"Just do it," she said without looking up.

"I am."

"You're staring at your lock screen."

Harry rolled his eyes, then opened his messages. No new notifications. Not from the one person he wanted to hear from.

Coach 💬

He opened the conversation thread. Empty.

He typed:

Hey. Just wondering how you're doing.

Then deleted it.

Yo. You alive?

Delete.

Miss your quotes. Gym's quieter without you.

Delete.

Sorry I ghosted. Want to pretend I didn't?

He stared at that one longer. His thumb hovered.

Backspace. All of it. Gone.

"Jesus Christ," Cindy muttered beside him, watching out of the corner of her eye. "You're texting like a teenage boy who just discovered emotions."

"I want to say the right thing."

"No, you want to say the least painful thing. There's a difference."

Harry groaned and leaned back against the bench. "I don't know how to be normal about this."

"Then stop trying to be normal. Try being honest."

He looked at her. She raised an eyebrow. Chewed.

He turned back to the screen. Fingers hovered.

Then finally, finally, he typed:

Coach...

Pause.

I'm sorry. For everything. I screwed up. Please forgive me. If you'll have me, I'd like to come back.

Cindy leaned closer, saw what he was writing, and immediately began making loud, obnoxious kissing noises.

"Stop that," he muttered.

"Coach... please take me back..." she mimicked in a dramatic whisper, hands clutched over her heart. "Ugh, the romance! I can't take it!"

Harry rolled his eyes but hit send anyway.

Message delivered.

Now he felt sick.

Seconds passed.

Then his phone buzzed.

Her name on the screen.

Coach:

Thank you for the apology. But I can't pretend it didn't hurt.

Harry stared at the message, stomach tightening. The words weren't cruel. But they weren't soft either. No exclamation marks. No emojis. Just her voice. Straight. Tired.

He swallowed hard. Cindy peeked at the screen and grew quiet.

He tapped again.

No jokes this time. No hiding.

He typed:

Christina.
I was scared.
Still am.
But I want to keep trying. With you.
Please.

He hit send.

The dots appeared almost immediately.

Three little bouncing ellipses that made his heart kick like a bass drum.

Then her reply:

Christina:

Alright.
10:00 a.m. tomorrow. I'll put you on the schedule.
We'll take it from there.

Harry exhaled slowly. A breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

Cindy let out a satisfied hum beside him. "Told you. All it takes is guts and proper spelling."

"Thanks," he mumbled.

She grinned.

Then, under her breath:
"Still making kissing noises in my head, though."

Harry shook his head, but smiled.

Tomorrow was booked.

And maybe—just maybe—it wouldn't be too late to fix what he'd broken.