The sound quality is crystal clear—one of the benefits of the new phone Theo, Nash, and Grayson bought me yesterday, though I'm using my old phone for the actual workout since the new one is too precious to risk dropping during exercise.
"Breathe into the stretch," she says in that perfectly soothing yoga-instructor tone that makes everything feel zen and achievable and like the entire world has slowed down just for this moment. "Inhale for four counts, feeling your lungs expand fully. Exhale for six counts, releasing tension with the breath. Let go of any tightness you're holding in your body or your mind."
I follow her instructions precisely, methodically. Inhaling deeply through my nose—one, two, three, four—feeling my ribcage expand and my lungs fill completely with crisp morning air. Then exhaling slowly through pursed lips—one, two, three,four, five, six—as I sink deeper into the lunge position, feeling my hip flexor release just a little bit more with each breath cycle.
My muscles are warm and pliant from forty-five minutes of continuous movement, that perfect combination of stretched and strengthened that makes me feel simultaneously powerful and flexible. My core is engaged, my shoulders are pulled back, my spine is long. Everything feels aligned and right.
The deck space—technically called the Sunrise Wellness Studio according to the placard by the door—of Winter Pine Lodge is absolutely perfect for this morning practice. The indoor patio area that Theo told me about last night when he kissed me goodnight is enclosed by floor-to-ceiling windows on three sides, offering a panoramic view of the surrounding forest. It's heated to a comfortable temperature that keeps the beginning of December cold at bay while still letting me admire the absolutely breathtaking winter wonderland scenery outside without freezing.
Snow is beginning to fall lightly outside the windows—delicate crystalline flakes drifting down from the heavy gray clouds like nature's own confetti, catching the early morning sunlight that's just starting to break through and sparkling as they descend in lazy spirals. The pine trees surrounding the lodge property are already dusted with pristine white powder from last night's light accumulation, their branches heavy and drooping slightly under the weight, creating that picture-perfect Christmas card aesthetic.
Everything looks magical. Like I've stepped into a Hallmark movie or a luxury winter retreat advertisement. Pristine white snow, dark green pines, the golden glow of sunrise filtering through clouds, the cozy warmth of the enclosed space contrasting with the cold beauty outside.
This is perfect. This moment—right here, right now—is absolutely perfect. I feel so peaceful. So grounded and centered.So completely present in my body and in this experience. When was the last time I felt this content? This satisfied with simply existing?
I'm wearing the festive pink workout set I bought yesterday at the lodge boutique—high-waisted compression tights with adorable little ornament prints scattered across them in silver and white, and a matching sports bra that emphasizes my curves in a way that makes me feel confident and attractive instead of self-conscious and exposed. The fabric is moisture-wicking and surprisingly high-quality, moving with me smoothly through each position without riding up or shifting awkwardly.
I'd added my favorite cream-colored knitted socks over the tights for extra warmth and aesthetic—they go up past my knees with a cable knit pattern that's both functional and cute. And I'd started with my quilted cardigan layered over everything, but I took it off about fifteen minutes into the workout when my body temperature rose from the continuous movement and my muscles warmed up properly.
My hair is pulled up in a high ponytail—sleek and secure—and I'm wearing a cream-colored knitted headband that matches my socks and keeps any flyaway strands out of my face during inversions and floor work. I caught my reflection in the floor-to-ceiling windows earlier during a standing sequence and thought I looked kind of like a Pilates instructor myself—put-together and professional and like someone who genuinely knows what they're doing.
Fake it till you make it, right? Although honestly, I'm not faking anymore. I've been doing Pilates regularly for almost two years now. I genuinely love this practice. Love the way it makes me feel strong and flexible and completely in control of my body. Love the mind-body connection it requires. Love how it challenges me without being aggressive or competitive.
The instructor guides me through a flowing sequence that requires balance and concentration. Warrior two with my arms extended parallel to the ground, feeling the burn in my thighs as I hold the position. Transitioning smoothly into triangle pose, reaching my hand down toward my ankle while keeping my hips square and my gaze lifted toward the ceiling. Then flowing back down to the mat for some intense core-focused work.
Plank variations that make my entire core shake with effort. Holding high plank for thirty seconds, then transitioning to forearm plank for another thirty. Side planks that challenge my obliques and make my supporting arm tremble. Slow, controlled leg lifts from plank position that require immense focus and muscle engagement.
Then back to standing for more balance work. Tree pose on each leg, finding that perfect point of stability where everything aligns. Warrior three, extending one leg behind me while my torso folds forward parallel to the ground, arms reaching ahead. It's challenging enough that I have to concentrate fully, but not so difficult that I feel frustrated or defeated.
I'm so completely absorbed in the workout, so deeply immersed in the movements and the rhythm of my breathing and the tranquility of watching snow fall outside the panoramic windows, that I lose track of everything external. Time becomes irrelevant and fluid. The world narrows down to just this moment—my body, my breath, the instructor's voice guiding me through each transition, the peaceful winter scene unfolding beyond the glass.
"And now we'll move into our final cool-down sequence," the instructor announces. "Come to a comfortable seated position. Cross your legs if that feels good for your body. Roll your shoulders back and down. Lengthen your spine."
I settle into position, feeling the slight ache in my muscles that indicates I worked hard but not the sharp pain that would signal injury.
"Close your eyes," she instructs gently. "Take a deep inhale through your nose for four counts. One, two, three, four. Hold for two. Then exhale for six counts. Let everything go."
I close my eyes obediently and follow her breathing pattern. Inhale—two, three, four. Hold—two. Exhale—two, three, four, five, six.
Peace settles over me like a warm blanket. Genuine, authentic peace that I don't think I've felt in years. Maybe ever. My mind is quiet. My body is satisfied. I feel accomplished and strong and capable.
This is what self-care is supposed to feel like. This is what it means to take care of yourself, to invest time in your own wellbeing. Kael's pack never understood this. They thought taking time for myself was selfish and wasteful.
I open my eyes slowly, blinking against the soft morning light filtering through the windows.
And realize Theo is standing about ten feet away, holding my new phone up, clearly recording me.
I blush immediately—heat flooding my cheeks so fast I probably look like a tomato.
"Oh! Oh my god, I completely forgot about filming clips! You were recording the whole time?!"
He smirks as he ends the video, that devastatingly attractive expression that makes my stomach flip. He walks over to me with confident strides, his olive-green eyes catching the light.
"I got plenty of footage. You were so completely absorbed in your workout that you didn't even notice me. Didn't hear me come in, didn't register my presence at all."
I blush even harder, if that's possible.
"I was in the zone! That's what happens when I'm focused!"
