As soon as Ray stepped into the gym, the vibe was off.
There was none of the usual hype. No clanging weights from ego-lifters. No grunting. No fake-friendly bro chatter.
And this was the weekend—peak hours.
Ray glanced at the wall clock.
"Weird... it’s dead quiet," he muttered.
A few mbers were inside, but their movents looked stiff. Every now and then, guys would sneak glances at their own asses in the mirror, looking paranoid—like they were checking if it was still safe.
"Ray."
That voice made his shoulders tense instantly.
Sonya.
Gym manager. Hot. Strict. Usually chill—but right now her tone was sharp enough to cut glass.
"My office. Now."
Ray nodded, keeping his face neutral.
As he passed the front desk, he caught whispers. So mbers were theorizing that maybe this ti it’d be the guys’ turn. A couple of dudes visibly shuddered. Others were doing calf raises with their hips suspiciously high, looking... hopeful.
CLICK.
Sonya’s office door shut tight behind him.
The mont Ray saw who was inside, his stomach dipped.
Mia.
The gym owner’s wife.
The woman whose thick assets Ray had left fingerprints on yesterday.
She sat on the small sofa, arms crossed, huffing in annoyance.
Next to her—
Her husband.
The Owner. The guy who yesterday had looked a little too amused watching his wife get "greeted."
And in the other chair...
Karl.
Regular mber. The gym bro accomplice—the one who handled the left cheek while Ray took the right.
Ray closed the door slowly.
Sonya pointed at the empty chair in the center of the room.
"Sit."
Ray sat.
No small talk. No pleasantries.
Sonya grabbed the remote and turned on the wall monitor.
"Ray," she said flatly. "Do you rember this incident?"
The screen lit up.
CCTV footage.
Friday morning. Chaos.
n "greeting" female mbers. Slaps. Grabs. Even Sonya herself wasn’t spared—caught on cara the mont she stepped out of the bathroom.
Then the feed zood in.
Ray.
Looking around nervously. Walking up to Mia.
SLAP.
A clean hit.
A firm squeeze.
Sonya stared him down, gripping the remote so hard her knuckles went white.
"Ray," she said again, voice ice-cold. "Do you rember this? Or not?"
Ray pretended to think. He rubbed his chin, furrowed his brow, then shook his head.
"Nah. I don’t rember, ma’am. For real. My mory’s blank."
Karl jumped in instantly, desperate.
"See?! Told you! Even Ray doesn’t rember! C’mon, guys, I didn’t do anything wrong! It was a Matrix glitch or sothing!"
The Owner slowly shook his head.
Defeated. Pale. Eyes darting from Ray to Karl, then nervously to his wife.
He said nothing.
Mia uncrossed her legs and leaned forward, eyes burning into Ray.
"So what do you rember, Ray?"
Ray swallowed.
His mind flooded with crystal-clear mories.
The warmth.
The softness.
The jiggle.
The faint, expensive scent of lotion he’d shalessly sniffed later.
But his face stayed calm.
"I just rember working like usual," Ray said smoothly. "I greeted Mrs. Mia politely—said ’Good evening, ma’am.’ That’s all. Then I chatted with Karl about calisthenics form."
Karl frowned. "Calisthenics? What calisthenics, bro? We were just—"
Sonya raised a hand.
Karl shut up instantly.
Her gaze locked onto Ray, weighing him—deciding whether to fire him or believe this mass insanity.
The room felt smaller. The air heavy.
Then the Owner finally spoke.
"So it’s true, huh..." His voice was low, heavy. He shook his head, eyes dropping to the floor.
Ray’s heart skipped.
Is he about to throw under the bus?
The Owner sighed—a long, tragic sound. When he spoke again, his tone shifted. Defensive. Almost pleading.
"Everyone rembers that incident differently. So people blacked out. Sothing’s off. Turns out... it really is so weird global phenonon."
Relief washed over Ray.
Yes, sir... preach, he thought, barely holding back a grin.
The Owner turned to Mia, eyes full of desperate hope, gently touching her arm.
"See, honey? It’s real. It wasn’t just . I told you since yesterday—"
Ray and Karl exchanged glances.
Told her what?
The Owner looked his wife straight in the eyes.
"I didn’t an to cheat with your mom! It was the phenonon!"
Ray and Karl nearly fell out of their chairs.
"DAMNNNN!!!!"
Their bodies recoiled in perfect sync—leaning sideways like they were dodging a sniper shot.
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