Chapter 217: [217] "Rose Part 9"

Luc shook his head, abandoning the path and walking slowly onto the cold turf. He approached the front of the class, mindful of his right leg, though the joint felt perfectly stable on the uneven ground.

"What exactly is happening here, Rose?" Luc asked, stopping a few feet away from the speaker.

"Community outreach," Rose declared proudly, not breaking the rhythm of her step-touches. The elderly women behind her continued to follow her movements, though a few of the ladies in the front row had stopped paying attention to the routine, opting instead to blatantly stare at the professional footballer who had just walked into their session.

"I volunteer to lead the silver-sneakers morning mobility class twice a month," Rose explained, stepping to the left, then to the right. "It keeps the blood flowing. It builds community. And it gets Zara out of her apartment before noon, which is a miracle."

"I was blackmailed," Zara muttered darkly, her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her black hoodie. "She threatened to change the Wi-Fi password. I am operating under extreme duress, Luc. Please call the authorities."

"You love the fresh air," Rose countered cheerfully, clapping her hands twice. "Switch to hip rotations, ladies! Nice and slow, open up the joints!"

The fifteen women dutifully shifted their stances, placing their hands on their hips and initiating circular movements.

"You were running," Zara noted, looking down at Luc’s attire. She squinted slightly in the morning light. "I thought you were sofa-ridden."

"That expired some days ago," Luc corrected, rolling his shoulders to keep his muscles warm in the biting wind. "I got cleared for light jogging. I’m just testing the bone. Seeing how the knee handles weight distribution on uneven surfaces."

Rose stopped her hip rotations. She placed her hands on her hips, tilting her head and looking at Luc with a dangerously challenging glint in her eye.

"Uneven surfaces, huh?" Rose asked. "You want to join us and test the stability of that joint? Or are you too elite to do a little stretching with the locals?"

Luc blinked. He looked at Rose, then looked at the rows of elderly women.

A woman in the front row, wearing a pale blue tracksuit and sporting a perfectly coiffed cloud of white hair, offered him a polite, encouraging smile. "It is very good for the lower lumbar, young man. You should try it. You look a bit stiff in the shoulders."

Zara let out a sharp bark of laughter, instantly covering her mouth with her hand to muffle the sound.

Luc stared at the woman in the blue tracksuit. He was the leading goalscorer in Ligue Alpha.

He looked back at Rose, who was currently raising a highly skeptical eyebrow.

"Why not," Luc said softly.

He reached for the zipper of his windbreaker, pulling it down and shrugging out of the dark jacket. He tossed it onto the grass next to the portable speaker, revealing a fitted, long-sleeve black training shirt beneath.

"Move over," Luc instructed Zara, stepping into the line between the two women, positioning himself facing the class.

Zara took a massive step to the side, shaking her head. "You are enabling her. You are validating this behavior. I hope your knee falls off."

"Okay ladies, we have a guest instructor!" Rose announced, her volume increasing as she immediately switched the track on her phone. The 80s synth-pop faded, replaced by a slightly faster disco beat. "Let’s show him how we handle the grapevine. Ready? And five, six, seven, eight!"

Rose stepped to the right, crossing her left foot behind her right, stepping right again, and tapping her heel.

Luc mirrored the movement.

He didn’t execute it with the lazy, sarcastic reluctance that Zara was employing. He was actually engaged. He focused on the movement. Stepping laterally required the knee to stabilize against horizontal force, activating the exact ligaments and stabilizing muscles surrounding his tibial tuberosity that had been dormant for days.

He crossed his left foot behind his right, shifting his weight.

The bone absorbed the minor impact without transmitting a single warning signal to his brain.

He stepped right, tapped his heel, and reversed the motion.

"Look at that form," Rose praised loudly, pointing at him. "He’s light on his feet for a tall guy. Keep up, Zara!"

"I am going to murder you," Zara mumbled, tripping slightly over her own shoelaces as she attempted the crossover step.

The absurdity of the situation.

He was standing in a park on a Wednesday morning, performing a disco-themed aerobic grapevine routine with fifteen senior citizens.

The women in the class were completely unfazed by his presence. To them, he wasn’t a focal point or a media headline. He was just a tall, athletic young man who was surprisingly good at following Rose’s choreography.

"Now, arm extensions with a forward lunge!" Rose commanded, transitioning seamlessly into the next movement. "Keep the back straight. Do not let the knee track over the toes!"

Luc executed the lunge. He dropped his left knee toward the cold grass, placing eighty percent of his body weight onto his right leg to decelerate his downward momentum.

He held the position for three seconds. The quadriceps engaged. The tendon stretched. The bone took the load.

It was flawless.

"You are doing very well," the white-haired woman in the blue tracksuit called out from the front row. "But you must breathe through the diaphragm. You are holding your breath."

"Thank you, Madame," Luc replied respectfully, adjusting his breathing rhythm and pushing back up to a standing position.

"Her name is Madame Moreau," Rose informed him, executing her own lunge. "She has better cardio than half your squad. I’ve seen her run three miles without breaking a sweat."

"I don’t doubt it," Luc smiled, wiping a bead of sweat from his temple.

For the next twenty minutes, Luc allowed himself to simply follow instructions. He executed arm circles, standing crunches, and slow, deliberate high-knee holds. The good morning air filled his lungs. The simple, repetitive nature of the class operated as a perfect, low-stress physical assessment.

He was medically sound. He was ready for Sunday.

Eventually, the disco music faded out, replaced by an instrumental acoustic track signaling the cool-down phase.

"Deep breath in," Rose instructed, raising both arms slowly toward the gray sky. "And exhale, pushing the air out. Let the heart rate drop."

Luc mirrored the motion, feeling the tension drain from his shoulders.

"Thank you, ladies! Excellent work today!" Rose yelled, clapping her hands together. "Drink your water. Protect your joints. I will see you all next time!"

The class broke apart in different directions. The elderly women began retrieving their water bottles and thick coats from the edges of the clearing, all about leaving. A few of them waved politely to Rose and Zara. Madame Moreau walked past Luc, offering him a firm and surprisingly strong pat on the bicep.

"Keep stretching, young man. Flexibility is the key to longevity," she advised, before turning and walking down the gravel path with two of her friends.

"I’ll keep that in mind," Luc replied, grabbing his windbreaker from the grass and pulling it back on.

Zara immediately collapsed onto the turf.