My Wife’s Yoga Pants Tore at the Gym

I stared at the black fabric I had just pulled out of the washing machine, my fingers unconsciously tracing the torn lace edge. The tear in these yoga pants was right in the crotch area. The material was high-quality, Lily’s favorite Lululemon brand. She always said this fabric was breathable and form-fitting, perfect for yoga without any risk of exposure. But now, these four-figure yoga pants had a vicious tear in the crotch, as if something sharp had forcibly ripped them open. What concerned me more was the suspicious white stains along the edges of the tear. They had dried and crusted, feeling hard to the touch. I leaned in for a closer look and caught a faint, fishy smell that made my stomach churn. “What are you looking at?” Lily’s voice came from behind. I instinctively stuffed the yoga pants into the laundry basket and turned around with a forced smile. “Nothing, just finished the laundry,” I said casually, but my eyes couldn’t help but linger on her face. She had light makeup on today, with perfectly drawn eyeliner and soft pink lipstick. She looked polished and elegant. “Oh,” she responded indifferently, walking to the fridge to grab a bottle of yogurt. “I’m going to the gym tonight, so you’ll have to eat dinner alone.” I nodded, watching her scoop up the yogurt. A drop of white liquid fell from the spoon, leaving a small stain on her shirt. She frowned and grabbed a tissue to wipe it off. “By the way,” I asked, trying to sound casual, “what happened to your black yoga pants? How did they get torn?” She paused for a moment, the spoon clinking against the glass bowl. “Oh, that,” she continued scooping the yogurt, “I accidentally caught them on some equipment during training yesterday. Just my luck.” “Is that so?” I stared at her profile. “The tear looks pretty bad.” “Yeah,” she smiled, tossing the empty yogurt container in the trash. “But it’s fine, I’ve had them for a while anyway. I’ll buy a new pair soon.” I watched her walk into the bedroom to change, but my heart felt heavy. She had only bought those yoga pants last month. She even posted about them on social media, bragging that they were limited edition and hard to get. And knowing her personality, if she had really accidentally torn them, she would have been devastated. How could she be so nonchalant about it? I walked back to the laundry basket and picked up the yoga pants again. The edges of the tear were jagged, as if they had been forcibly stretched open. Upon closer inspection, I found a small electronic key sewn into the inside of the waistband, engraved with a series of numbers: XX-032

XX was the abbreviation for a high-end gym in our city, and 0321 was a locker number. I remembered that Lily did have a membership at that gym, but she usually went with Victoria and rarely went alone. As I was pondering this, Lily came out of the bedroom, dressed and ready to go. She wore a pair of gray sweatpants and a loose hoodie, looking fresh and sporty. “I’m leaving,” she said, picking up her bag and heading for the door. “Wait,” I called out to her, “Why have you been going to the gym with Victoria so often lately?” She stopped and looked back at me, her eyes shifting slightly. “What do you mean? We’ve always gone together, haven’t we?” “But you used to only go on weekends. Why are you going every day now?” I probed. She laughed it off, saying lightly, “Work’s been stressful lately. I just want to exercise more and relax a bit.” I nodded, not saying anything more. She turned and left, and I stood by the window, watching her walk quickly towards the community gate where a black SUV was already waiting. The window rolled down, and Victoria waved at her. Lily opened the door and got in. The car soon disappeared from view. I returned to the living room, picked up the yoga pants, and carefully examined the electronic key. The VIP lockers at XX Gym were only for premium members, but Lily’s membership was just a regular one. I opened my phone and searched for XX Gym’s official website. I discovered that their VIP membership fee was over $10,000 per year and required strict vetting to obtain. Lily’s income was decent, but not enough to justify such an extravagance. As I was thinking, my phone suddenly vibrated. It was a text from an unknown number: “Don’t forget, Wednesday at the usual place for the reshoot.” I stared at the message, feeling uneasy. Lily’s phone was still on the coffee table; she had forgotten to take it with her. After a moment’s hesitation, I picked it up and unlocked it. Her password was still my birthday, which gave me a small sense of relief. I opened her text messages and found that she had been frequently communicating with an unknown number over the past few days. The messages were mostly brief exchanges like “See you Wednesday” and “Remember to bring clothes.” I scrolled to the top and found the first message from a month ago: “Wednesday, 3 PM, XX Gym VIP area. Remember to wear those black yoga pants.” My heart started racing, and my fingers trembled slightly. As I continued scrolling, I discovered that they met every Wednesday, and each time, those yoga pants were mentioned. The last message was sent yesterday: “Good performance today. Let’s continue next time.” I put down the phone, feeling like a heavy stone was pressing on my chest, making it hard to breathe. Lily had been going to the gym every Wednesday, always wearing those black yoga pants. And today, those pants were mysteriously torn, with suspicious white stains. I picked up the yoga pants again, re-examining the tear. The lace around the edges was ripped, as if something had forcibly stretched it open. Suddenly, I had a thought. I picked up my phone and searched for “yoga pants tear.” The results that popped up made me freeze. The first search result was a post on an anonymous forum titled “Exposing the Gym’s Hidden Camera Industry.” I clicked on it and found that the original poster had detailed how to use the gym’s changing rooms and equipment areas to secretly film female members. There was even a specific “yoga pants series” because these pants were form-fitting and easily damaged, making them ideal targets for hidden cameras. My hands started shaking as I continued reading. The poster mentioned that those who set up hidden cameras usually chose VIP lockers because there were fewer people and more blind spots in the surveillance. They would also install tiny cameras in the lockers to specifically capture footage of female members changing clothes. I suddenly stood up, grabbed my car keys, and rushed out. XX Gym wasn’t far from my house, only a ten-minute drive. I had to go see for myself what was hidden in that VIP locker. I drove there quickly, my mind replaying Lily’s recent unusual behavior. She always came home late, sometimes with strange bruises on her body. When I asked, she would say she accidentally bumped into something while working out. She also frequently received text messages from unknown numbers, always deleting them nervously after reading. I parked outside the gym and walked quickly towards the VIP area. The security guard at the entrance stopped me, but when I showed him the electronic key, he let me through. I found locker 0321 and inserted the key. The door opened with a click. It was empty except for a small SD card lying in the corner. I picked up the SD card, my fingers trembling slightly. I knew that it must contain some dark secret. I found a corner, inserted the SD card into my phone, and opened the file manager. There was only one video file, named “0321-20231004”. Taking a deep breath, I clicked on the video. The image was blurry at first but soon came into focus. The camera was aimed at a dimly lit room with workout clothes hanging on the wall and a yoga mat on the floor. A woman wearing black yoga pants had her back to the camera, doing stretching exercises. My heart rate suddenly increased. I knew that silhouette all too well – it was Lily. She seemed completely unaware of the camera’s presence and continued with various yoga poses. The camera angle was very low, as if filming from the ground up, providing a clear view of her lower body. Forcing myself to keep watching despite my discomfort, I saw the scene suddenly change. Lily walked towards the camera and crouched down, apparently adjusting something. At that moment, a hand suddenly reached out from off-screen and grabbed her ankle. Lily cried out in surprise and tried to break free, but the hand was strong and pulled her to the ground. The image began to shake violently. I could only vaguely see Lily struggling on the floor, while the owner of the hand never came into view. The video abruptly ended there. I stared at the blank screen, my mind completely blank. Lily had been secretly filmed, and the person behind it clearly had malicious intentions. I suddenly stood up, rushed out of the gym, and drove straight home. I had to get to the bottom of this. However, when I got home, Lily wasn’t there. Her phone was still on the coffee table. I picked it up and saw that the unknown number had sent another message: “Meet at the usual place tonight. Remember to wear those black yoga pants.” I gripped the phone tightly, a sense of foreboding washing over me. Tonight, I had to go to this “usual place” myself and see who was behind all this. I sat on the couch, clutching Lily’s phone. That text message felt like a thorn, piercing my heart. The content was simple, yet it sent a chill down my spine: “Meet at the usual place tonight. Remember to wear those black yoga pants.” The usual place? Where was that? The VIP area of XX Gym? Or somewhere else? I stared at the phone screen, my mind racing through Lily’s recent whereabouts. She went to the gym every Wednesday, but aside from that, she didn’t seem to have any other regular haunts. I opened her messaging app and scrolled through her recent chats. Besides her daily conversations with Victoria, a contact labeled “Coach” caught my attention. Their chat history was brief, mostly about scheduling training sessions, but the recent messages were strange. “Meet at the usual place tonight. Remember to wear those black yoga pants.” This was the latest message from him, identical to the text on Lily’s phone. I frowned and clicked on his profile picture. It showed a middle-aged man, around 40, with a muscular build, wearing a tight tank top with an XX Gym badge on his chest. His name was Jack, and he was Lily’s personal trainer. As I continued scrolling through their chat history, I noticed that starting a month ago, Jack had been frequently asking Lily to “add extra sessions,” always reminding her to wear those black yoga pants. Lily’s replies were mostly “Okay” or “Got it,” occasionally asking questions about the training. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. But the torn yoga pants and the video on the SD card made it impossible for me to believe in this facade of normalcy anymore. I decided to go to XX Gym myself and see what this Jack was up to. I drove to the gym and walked straight to the front desk. The receptionist smiled and asked how she could help. I showed her Lily’s membership card and said I wanted to find Coach Jack. “Coach Jack is in a session right now. You can wait in the lounge area if you’d like,” the receptionist pointed to the nearby sofa area. I nodded and sat down in the lounge, but my eyes were fixed on the training area. Not long after, I saw Jack walk out of a private training room, followed by a tall woman – it was Lily. She was wearing a tight sports top and black yoga pants, the same style as the torn ones. Her hair was tied in a high ponytail, and her face was flushed from exercise, looking energetic. Jack said a few words to her, then patted her shoulder before turning towards another private room. Lily headed towards the changing room, apparently getting ready to leave. I stood up and quickly followed her. The changing room door was slightly ajar. I stood outside, overhearing a conversation between Lily and Victoria. “Why are you so late today?” Victoria’s voice sounded displeased. “Coach Jack said we needed extra training, so I stayed a bit longer,” Lily’s tone sounded tired. “Extra training? Did he make you wear those yoga pants again?” Victoria’s voice suddenly rose. “Yeah, he said these pants help with the training,” Lily’s voice lowered, sounding a bit guilty. “Help with training? I think he has other intentions!” Victoria scoffed. “Do you know his reputation at the gym lately? I’ve heard he often gets handsy with female members.” “Don’t say that. Coach Jack is a good person. He’s just helping me correct my form,” Lily’s tone was urgent, as if defending herself. “Correcting your form? Then why does he always make you wear those yoga pants? Don’t you find that strange?” Victoria’s voice was tinged with sarcasm. “I…” Lily fell silent, seemingly at a loss for words. Standing outside, I felt a tightness in my chest. Victoria’s words further confirmed my suspicion that Jack’s “extra training” with Lily was definitely problematic. Just then, the changing room door suddenly opened, and Victoria walked out. She was startled to see me standing there. “What are you doing here?” Her tone was surprised, but she quickly regained her composure. “I’m here to pick up Lily,” I said calmly, my eyes fixed on her face. Victoria’s expression was peculiar. She glanced back at the changing room, then lowered her voice to tell me, “You’d better be careful. Jack isn’t a good guy.” I nodded without saying much. Victoria turned and left, and I walked into the changing room to find Lily sitting on a bench, changing her shoes. She looked up in surprise when I entered. “Why are you here?” Her tone was flustered, as if she hadn’t expected me to show up. “I’m here to pick you up,” I said, walking to her side, my eyes falling on her yoga pants. The crotch of these pants was intact, clearly not the pair I had found in the washing machine. Lily noticed my gaze and instinctively pulled at her waistband, as if trying to hide something. I crouched down, grasped her wrist, and asked in a low voice, “Have you been hiding something from me lately?” Her body tensed, and her eyes darted around. “No, why would you think that?” I stared into her eyes, trying to read her expression. Her gaze was evasive, as if she couldn’t look at me directly. I took a deep breath and decided to confront her directly. “I found a pair of torn yoga pants in the washing machine, with white stains on the crotch,” I said quietly, my voice tinged with suppressed anger. Lily’s face instantly turned pale. She yanked her hand away and stood up, trying to leave. I grabbed her and pulled her back onto the bench. “What are you hiding from me?” My voice trembled slightly, a sense of unease rising within me. Lily lowered her head, her hands tightly gripping the hem of her shirt, seemingly engaged in an intense internal struggle. After a long moment, she finally said in a low voice, “I… I don’t know how to tell you.” “Then start from the beginning,” I forced myself to calm down, sitting beside her and holding her hand. Lily was silent for a while before finally speaking: “A month ago, Coach Jack suddenly approached me, saying there were issues with my posture that needed extra training to correct. He asked me to come to the gym every Wednesday night, wearing those black yoga pants, saying it would help him see my movements more clearly.” “And then?” I pressed. “At first, he was really helping me correct my form, but later…” Lily’s voice trembled, “he started touching me inappropriately, claiming it was to help relax my muscles, but it made me very uncomfortable.” My heart sank. I squeezed her hand, encouraging her to continue. “I tried to refuse, but he threatened to post videos of my training sessions online if I didn’t cooperate,” Lily’s voice was on the verge of tears, “I… I didn’t know what to do, so I just went along with it.” I took a deep breath, trying to suppress the rage building inside me. That bastard Jack, using such despicable methods to threaten Lily. I clenched my fists, silently vowing to make him pay for this.

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