Fatty's Court

Chapter Three: She Wasn't Playing Me

60 minutes: Harry felt as if his feet no longer belonged to him. It felt like a thousand-pound weight was crushing his shoulders. The soreness and weakness were indescribable. Every time his tendons tightened, his knees screamed out a serious warning.

His body was telling Harry that if he continued running, his knees might snap at any moment.

Despite the agony and the warnings, Harry did not stop.

At this moment, Harry didn't actually have many thoughts left in his head. He certainly wasn't waiting for her to come back anymore.

He had only one thought: Keep running. Don't stop.

Harry had long forgotten how much time had passed. He just kept repeating the mantra in his mind: Run. Run.

Gradually, Harry became numb. Even his mind went blank. He ran mechanically, like a robot.

Seventy minutes passed. Then eighty. Harry no longer knew what he was doing; his vision began to blur into a haze.

The gym attendant had quietly moved to stand beside the treadmill, waiting silently for Harry to collapse. He clutched his phone in his hand, fingers hovering over the keypad, seemingly worried that he would need to call 911 at a moment's notice.

At the 90-minute mark, the attendant refilled Harry's water bottle once more. But this time, Harry barely had the strength to wrap his lips around the straw. He could only inhale slowly, a sight that was heartbreaking to watch.

Two hours later.

The crowd at Titan Fitness had gradually dispersed. Even the onlookers who had stayed to watch Harry's insane marathon had gone home.

Harry’s body began to sway dangerously. His steps became erratic, stumbling as if he had reached the stage of total physiological collapse.

Harry had no idea that all of this was being observed by one person—someone he never imagined was there.

A beautiful silhouette stepped forward from the shadows and slammed her hand on the emergency stop button.

The machine whirred to a halt. Harry wanted to yell at the intruder, but found he didn't even have the strength to open his mouth.

The figure spoke. "Alright. I'll be your coach."

Harry squinted, trying to focus his blurry eyes. It was her.

Harry smiled faintly, his legs gave out, and he slumped directly onto the floor.

She handed the sports drink to Harry. He tried to raise his hand to take it, but his arm was like jelly; he couldn't lift it. Harry struggled for a moment, uselessly.

She noticed the problem immediately. Without a word, she held the bottle to his lips.

Harry didn't have the energy for shame or politeness. He simply drank, draining the entire bottle with her help.

For fifteen minutes, there was silence. Neither Harry nor the woman spoke as he sat there, catching his breath.

Finally, she broke the silence. "Do you have the strength to listen to me now?"

Harry wheezed, "I'm... fine."

She crossed her arms. "Why did you run for so long? Did you really believe I'd come back? Or are you just out of your mind about losing weight?"

Harry paused, composing himself. "I didn't believe you would come back. I honestly thought you were gone. As for why I persisted... I don't really know. I just wanted to keep running."

He took a breath. "I do want to lose weight, that's true. But I know weight loss is a long-term job; you can't rush it in one night."

The woman listened to the fat man's words, then nodded slowly. "Not bad."

She continued, "Actually, I came back half an hour later. I came in through the back door so you wouldn't see me. But I was watching you from the shadows the whole time. I saw everything, including when the attendant brought you water."

Harry looked at her in surprise.

She continued, stern and professional. "There is one last condition for me to be your coach: You have to do whatever I tell you to do. You can ask why, but I might not answer. Do you accept?"

Harry answered without hesitation, his voice confident. "No problem."

She nodded. "I'm Ruby Sutton. From now on, you answer to Coach Ruby."

Harry replied weakly but respectfully, "Hello, Coach Ruby. I'm Harry Lane. High school senior."

Ruby asked, "Can you play basketball?"

Harry hesitated. "No. I've... touched a ball once or twice."

Ruby asked again, "Do you plan to learn how to play?"

Harry immediately replied, "Yes!"

Ruby leaned forward slightly, craning her neck to look at Harry with wide, intense eyes. "Really?"

Harry flinched backward slightly but held his ground. "Really."

Ruby sat back down on a nearby bench. "Do you know why I agreed to be your coach?"

Harry said, bewildered, "Is it my perseverance? Or do you just pity me?"

"Perseverance is a very important aspect," Ruby admitted. "But there are physical reasons, too."

She pointed at him. "I observed you carefully when we first met. You have broad shoulders, a massive wingspan, and large hands. Also, although you're overweight right now, the bone structure and proportions of your upper and lower limbs are excellent."

She smirked. "You have the natural build of a basketball player. That is talent."

Hearing Ruby praise him like that, Harry looked at her in shock. He had always been insecure about his size; no one had ever called it "talent" before.

Ruby stood up. "I'll take the job. Meet me here at the gym tomorrow night at 7:00 PM. Wait for me at the main entrance. And remember to bring your payment."

Ruby turned to leave. After taking seven or eight steps, she suddenly stopped, remembering something. She turned around.

"When you get home tonight, apply muscle rub heavily on your joints—knees and ankles—after you shower. This will help you recover."

She glared at him playfully. "You know what to do when I give an order, right?"

Harry mustered his strength and shouted, "Do as you say!"

Ruby turned and walked away, leaving behind a beautiful silhouette that made Harry feel like he was floating on air.

Harry had gradually recovered some of his strength by this time. He could walk, but riding his bicycle back home was impossible. He decided to abandon his bike at the gym overnight and hailed a taxi home.

Following Coach Ruby's instructions, Harry showered and slathered muscle rub over his aching legs. He collapsed onto his bed and fell asleep instantly.

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