I woke up as the first light of dawn peeked through the blinds, warming the tousled sheets. A familiar mantra gently nudged me into consciousness, urging me to "embrace the day with purpose and positivity, Oorun!"

Yes. Another day.

I awoke at precisely 4:37 a.m., my eyelids fluttering open eight minutes before my smartwatch alarm went off. Years of routine I have had made my body a pre-programmed timer.

But this morning, frustration gnawed at me as I lay on the bed, not starting the day my usual way.

I was aware that I had dreamed last night. It was so vivid in the waking moments, but the entire scene shimmered and dissolved, leaving only a hazy impression behind. Images flickered at the edges of my consciousness like phantoms in a dissipating fog, refusing to solidify as the minutes ticked on.

"Urgh!" I said, the noise causing my husband, Adrian, to stir a bit. I stopped breathing and steeled my limbs. I did not want to wake him. After a moment, he fell back into his rhythm of slumber.

I looked at the ceiling and thought, the dream must have been significant.

My internal voice was laced with a twinge of guilt. Why guilt? I wondered.

I knew someone had entered my sleep state. But who? The weight of foreboding pressed against my chest. Did they bring some warning or clue?

I squeezed my eyelids shut, willing the dream back, but it was like trying to catch smoke. A soft sigh escaped my lips as I acknowledged the futility of my efforts. The dream had to remain a frustrating enigma for now.

My morning routines were overdue.

I glanced over to the other side of the bed, where my husband's ribs continued to rise and fall. The throaty snuffle of his snore filled the room.

Then, when a subtle, almost playful tremor danced across my wrist, I realized too late that my ruminating on the dream had caused me to forego my five-minute morning meditation. The wake-up call from my timepiece was entirely unnecessary. I pressed "stop" and breathed through three contemplative inhales and three slow exhales.

I take care not to rouse Adrian as I slip out of bed and grab my gym clothes from the floor. The night before, I had placed in their familiar spot to help me start my day without friction.

Striding to the bathroom, I flipped the light and turned on the Bluetooth speaker at a low volume. I opened my iPhone's "Take on the Day" playlist and bobbed my head as I prepared for the gym.

While I'm cautious not to disturb Adrian, part of me wished we exercised together, but we never do. He's been so good to me, but I'm disconnected from our relationship. We go through the couplehood motions when needed and have individual routines most days. We're comfortable with our standard operating procedure.

After so many years of marriage, I know we look like a model couple to everyone around us. We have a lovely house in the suburbs. Adrian works on it most days, not fixing it but making it more spectacular. Since he's been out of work, he's added a deck, enclosed the porch, and built a Juliet balcony off our second-story bedroom.

When I slow my runs home enough for them to catch up with me, the neighborhood blonds always gush about how dreamy he is and how lucky I am.

I rolled my eyes at this thought.

Yes, I am lucky to have maintained a source of income throughout the pandemic. I worked hard to ensure that the money to keep up our lifestyle kept coming in. I trained the bodies of high-net-worth professionals, athletes, and stay-at-home trophy wives. When everything closed down in 2020 because of COVID-19, Adrian lost his job, and I scrambled to transform my business into a remote model. But I have been overwhelmingly stressed for the last four years.

Still, I've internalized the challenges and bottled up my frustration to avoid emasculating Adrian. It's taken a toll on me, but I've tried, at least. He's a good man. For many years, he had a successful career as a construction engineer on a fixer-upper show for military families. He was devastated when the production shut down because of the pandemic. He came home thinking it would be a few weeks; then, it became a few months. When it was clear that the show wouldn't return, he started looking for a job of the same stature or income level. I think he's given up and only occupies his time with home projects.

Most days I wished he would take anything he can get-anything to help us.

Sigh

Today, I banished those wishes and hopped in the shower to allow the hot water to run over my body.

Six minutes later, I was out. I dried off and styled the soft curls of my natural hair with a leave-in conditioner created by a Black woman. After I dabbed my neck and the valley of my breasts with a sweet-smelling essential oil, I headed downstairs for breakfast. I devoured the small bowl of overnight oatmeal with in-season blueberries and toasted almonds, pulled on my sneakers, grabbed my gym bag and headed out the door.

I made my way to the nearby fitness center in determined strides, the sun gradually painting the sky with its gentle rays as it began its ascent. I entered the gym with joy and energy but accidentally bumped into someone who was leaving as I swung the door open. I stumbled two and a half steps backward, and my senses lit up.

A man. A man who defied all notions of beauty I've ever encountered arrested my sight. He stood in front of me, a stunning human-form masterpiece. I wondered how such a being could exist. Is he real?

My eyes skirted over his face and chest, paused below his waist, and cascaded to his thigh and back up. A tattoo stopped my inspection short. That tattoo was familiar - the intricate, slender, brown, band-like pattern encircled his neck. Its color is close to his skin tone, so it isn't immediately apparent.

I saw it, though. Where have I seen it before?

A song, lyrics a playful declaration of male perfection, began to boom through the gym. It painted the scene with an almost prophetic air as if describing the man who effortlessly commanded the space before me. Did this soundtrack follow him wherever he went?

But it was my sense of smell that completed the knockout punch. He must have showered after his workout. His aroma enveloped me and pulled me closer. It was intoxicating and enticing.

I momentarily closed my eyes, surrendering to the sweetness that invaded my nostrils. It's as if he distilled his essence into a bouquet with hints of comfort, a touch of adventure, and a dash of fiery arousal and bathed in the blend. In this fleeting moment, his scent made me smile involuntarily. My body relaxed and yet awakened in his presence.

For what must have been a half-dozen too-long seconds, I stood immobilized. Then, the luscious lips of the god-among-us-mortals parted, revealing a brilliant smile. He stepped towards me and said, "Good morning, sunshine."

Lord, have mercy-that voice!

I burst into flames as his breath feathered my earlobe and his deep, sing-song accent sunk into me. Those three words lit my entire being on fire.

Whoa! What is this, Oorun?

But before I could form a coherent thought, he stepped around me and exited the building. I blinked in bewilderment.

Then...then, the pathway to a memory sparked with searing energy.

The tattoo and voice - they're from my dream!

"Wait!" I said, turning around.

But I was too late. His car was already driving away. He was gone.

Brrrr-riiiinnng! The attention-grabbing sound of my husband's call cut through.

Right, I'm married. I can't pursue any dream-come-true apparitions today.

"Hello, Adrian . You're up early," I said.

"Yes. Er, I had a bad dream; it made me want to check in."

"Really, what was it about?" I asked as I headed to the lockers to drop off my gym bag before warming up on the elliptical machines.

"Nothing much," he said before clearing his throat and sniffing twice.

He was lying. That sequence was his tell. I wondered if he'd had a dream like mine, but I wouldn't ask him about it. If I did, I'd feel obliged to disclose the details of my dream, some of which I was reminded of just now. I couldn't tell Adrian I'd dreamed of another man while lying beside him.

So, I waited for him to continue.

He said, "Something happened in it, and I thought about you as soon as I woke up."

"Well, that's nice. I'm at the gym now, about to start my workout."

"I'm glad you're okay, Oorun," he said and paused. Then, in a faltering tenor, he said, "I love you."

Whoa. It had been a long time since I'd heard those words. They sounded foreign and empty, rendering me mute.

Thinking I hadn't heard him, he raised his voice and said, "I love you, Oorun."

Several more seconds passed, and my mind whirled, clicking through what I should say. I landed on, "I know."

I knew that was a terrible response as soon as I said it. I didn't want to be mean. But what did he expect? It had been a long time since we'd spoken to each other about anything...real.

Adrian and I were in a strange sync. We were kind to each other, never argued, and remained faithful. But our feelings and interactions held no intensity. We were in a cycle of waking up, doing what we do in our disparate worlds, eating, and sleeping.

I missed our early days' closeness, joy, and purpose.

A scandalous idea struck me: The awakening I'd experienced just now with that stranger was unlike anything I'd ever felt with Adrian. I didn't recall feeling that way even when our love was young.

This admission stunned me and made me angry with myself. A torrent of thoughts came rushing. What are you thinking, Oorun?! What are you doing right after YOUR HUSBAND expresses his love? Ruminating on crazy ideas of another man you just met?! If Adrian ever had thoughts like this of a woman, you would be furious! What the actual f--

"Oorun?" Adrian's voice cut into my alarming thoughts. I shook my head free of them and realized I was standing like a zombie inside the gym's weight room.

"Ahem - yes. Hey Adrian, I've got to start my workout. Let's chat later, okay?"

I clicked the red circle to end the call before he could say anything else.

With determination burning in my veins, I bypassed the usual warm-up routine and marched straight to the power rack.

Each clink of the weights hitting the bar echoed my frustration. I slammed the plates onto the bar, the clang reverberating through the sparsely populated gym. An onlooker would have thought I was setting up for a punishing lifting session.

With my jaw clenched and muscles tensed, I was determined to channel every ounce of irritation into each rep. I wanted an outlet for these senseless emotions.

I couldn't understand why I was so frustrated. Adrian and I were fine, weren't we? Nothing major had happened. Had the brief encounter with the stranger caused a significant change in my thoughts or emotions? Had the idea that I wanted or needed something else been there all along? I wondered if I would have felt all these feelings if the meeting had occurred without the dream from a few hours earlier. But that dream...Could the stranger have been the metaphorical moon that threatened to eclipse me?

Without thinking about what I knew about correctly setting up for a safe and effective solo workout, I chose heavier plates than anything I had ever lifted.

I thumped my chest softly; it hurt. I dipped to my haunches and dove to rest the barbell on my shoulders. I grimaced and rose slowly to my feet. I grunted, then strained to lift the barbell loaded with plates on either side. Sweat dripped down my forehead, and my muscles trembled with the effort.

These weights are too heavy for you, Oorun!

Nevertheless, I was determined to lift them. The effort contorted my face, and my eyes squeezed shut as I summoned the strength to complete the lift. Finally, with a loud shout, I lifted the barbell off its hooks, but only briefly before the weight forced me to lower it back down, panting and exhausted from the effort.

Oorun, what are you doing?

I ducked under the bar and rose. The mirrored wall reflected my powerful stance. I cuffed my hands confidently against my hips and planted my feet akimbo. The superhero stance is supposed to call strength to me, but the power I tried to summon faded like smoke when I saw my reflection.

You're ignoring your feelings. That's what you're doing.

Beads of sweat clung to my dark cocoa-toned skin in stark contrast to the white fury that clouded my mind. The memory of meeting the stranger sent a jolt of electricity through me that had nothing to do with the pain of lifting hefty weights.

Shame burned alongside the anger, a bitter cocktail churning in my stomach.

I told myself, You should not think of any man that way except your husband, Oorun. You can't be with anyone else. Adrian is the one for you.

I took a deep, shaky breath and forced my gaze down my body. Tall and powerful, the result of years of dedicated training, it's a temple I'd built for Adrian as much as for myself. He loved to rest his hand in the curve of my lower back. "You're strong and sexy, Oorun," he would say as his fingers tenderly squeezed my muscles.

Our relationship was like a sturdy fortress, a safe place constructed over more than a decade and a half. Caring gestures and a silent commitment to always be there for each other usually brought a sense of ease.

You understand him, Oorun! You swore divorce wasn't an option, Oorun! Not for us. Not another statistic, not another Black couple failing. A soft growl escaped my throat. No. We're better than that.

I clenched my fists; the sharp press of my nails was a grounding force.

Marked in my soul was the will to finish what I started. It was a code I lived by. This marriage, my life with Adrian, was a marathon I signed up for.

But with each thud of my heart, a traitorous question echoed: Is this the course I was meant to take? Is this the finish line I'd envisioned?

Shoot! I'm too worked up emotionally to work out.

I wiped my brow and gulped water before I turned and headed to the lockers.

My brisk run home slowed to a gentle amble as I approached a tranquil lake in the park. Laughter echoed through the air as I noticed two women strolling towards me, their infectious joy striking a chord within me. I remember that feeling, I thought. I stopped my run and settled onto a park bench.

I pulled out my phone, and my fingers flew across the screen as I texted.

"Celie, are you there?"

The screen was blank for a few seconds before the bubbles indicating that Celie was typing appeared.

"Hey! It's real early, woman. What's up?"

"We need to meet up. I've got a--"

I looked up and thought about how to characterize my current emotional state.

"A situation."

"Intriguing! Sure. When and where?"

"How about our usual brunch spot? Can you meet me on Saturday? 11:45?"

"Perfect ❤️ I miss you. See you soon!"

I remained seated and conjured the image of my cherished friend, Celie. Over the years, Celie had been unwavering in her loyalty and friendship, even though we drifted apart during the pandemic when she moved away to be back home with her parents.

An accomplished software developer, Celie's company recently summoned her back to the office twice a week. She had called a few weeks ago to let me know she was back. I think I'm a selfish friend for waiting until I needed something before contacting her.

Celie was the only person I trusted enough to confide in about this evolving relationship predicament. I felt I needed an outsider's perspective, and Celie was candid and straightforward.

I touched the screen to make the time appear on my phone. It was 9:03. Even as I felt the remnants of winter chill in the breeze hitting my legs, I also felt the sun's rays beating on my brow. It was just another day for me, and...

Unbidden, the stranger's face invaded my mind again, and I wondered whether he was thinking of me too.

I stood up and started running again.

You do that when you meet the man of your dreams, but you're married. Run home to your man, Oorun!