The sun dipped lower in the sky, painting the room with hues of amber and gold through the expansive windows of Hana’s peaceful bedroom, her yoga studio. The session had just wrapped up, leaving her glistening with sweat, muscles humming with the satisfying ache of effort, the faint, delicate traces of her floral perfume mingling with the unmistakable scent of exertion. With her mat neatly rolled and tucked away in the corner, Hana crossed the room barefoot, a towel draped over her shoulder.

Her pink yoga leggings hugged her plump legs. Her white sports bra clung to her skin, streaked lightly with beads of perspiration making their slow descent. Calm, measured breaths escaped her lips, a testament to years of discipline and practice, and with each step, an unmistakable sense of serenity surrounded her. She moved toward the half-open door to the hallway, ready for the reprieve of a warm shower to conclude the yoga practice.

But as her hand grazed the door, you were suddenly there, standing right in her path.

“Wahh!!”

A startled yelp escaped her as she stumbled in surprise. Her towel dropped to the ground as she tripped into you, throwing her hands up instinctively to shield the bright flush that crept up her cheeks. Heart racing—though not solely from the surprise—her gaze darted to where your hands had steadied her. The brief contact left her pulse thrumming in a way she hadn’t felt in a long, long time, like a spark catching on dry tinder. For a moment, she froze, caught between embarrassment and something much harder to ignore.

“Y-You scared me… Sorry… Uwah…”