My Husband’s Brother, My Filthy Trainer

MIA

I sat at the dining table picking at the rice on my plate, trying to make myself smaller. The food was good.

Mom had cooked her special chicken, the kind that usually made me take a second serving. Tonight I only took a little. I already knew what was coming.

My husband, Ryan, sat across from me, scrolling through his phone between bites.

His older brother, Jake, sat to his right. Jake had come over for Sunday dinner like he did every few weeks. He was quieter than Ryan, taller, broader. He always looked like he belonged in a gym, which made sense since he owned one.

Ryan put his phone down and looked at me.

“You’re barely eating again,” he said.

I forced a small smile. “I’m full.”

“You always say that.” He leaned back in his chair. “Maybe if you actually watched what you put in your mouth, we wouldn’t be having the same conversation every week.”

Mom cleared her throat softly. Dad kept his eyes on his plate. Jake didn’t say anything. He just kept eating, but I could feel the shift in the air.

Ryan wasn’t finished.

“My secretary, Lena, she eats like a bird and still has energy all day. You should see her. She’s been wearing these fitted dresses lately. Looks sharp. Professional. Meanwhile…” He glanced at my waist. “You’re still hiding in those loose tops.”

Heat crawled up my neck. I stared at the chicken on my plate and pushed a piece around with my fork.

“I wear what’s comfortable,” I said quietly.

“Comfortable is just another word for giving up.” Ryan chuckled like he had made a joke. “I’m serious, Mia. It’s getting worse. Your face is rounder. Your arms look softer. People notice these things.”

Jake’s fork paused for half a second. He didn’t look up.

Mom tried to change the subject. “The chicken turned out nice tonight, don’t you think?”

Ryan ignored her. “I’ve been thinking. You need structure. Real structure. Not those half-hearted walks you take around the block.”

I already knew where this was going. My stomach tightened.

Ryan turned to his brother. “Jake, you’ve got that gym. You’ve trained people before. Why don’t you take Mia on? Help her lose the weight. She clearly can’t do it on her own.”

The table went quiet.

I looked up fast. “I can do it myself.”

Ryan laughed. It wasn’t a kind sound. “Come on. You’ve been saying that for months. Look at you. Nothing’s changed. If anything, it’s gone the other way.”

My cheeks burned. I hated how small my voice sounded. “I said I’ll handle it.”

“With what plan?” he asked, still smiling. “More excuses? More ‘I’ll start on Monday’?”

Jake finally spoke. His voice was calm, low. “I can help if she wants.”

I turned to him. He was looking at me, not at Ryan. His eyes stayed on my face longer than they needed to. Something about the way he looked at me made my pulse jump. I looked down at my plate again.

“I don’t need help,” I said. “I’ll figure it out.”

Ryan shook his head like I was being difficult on purpose. “See? This is the problem. Stubborn for no reason. Jake’s offering. He’s good at this. People pay him for it. You’re getting it for free.”

“I said no.”

Ryan’s smile faded a little. “You’re embarrassing yourself. Just accept the help.”

Jake spoke again, still quiet. “Only if she’s okay with it. I won’t force anyone.”

I glanced at him. He was still watching me. Not in a mocking way. Just steady. It made me more nervous than Ryan’s words.

Mom tried again. “Maybe we should talk about this another time.”

Ryan waved her off. “No. It’s fine. She needs to hear it. Mia, you’re my wife. I want you to look better. Is that a crime? Lena walks into the office and people respect her. When you show up at company dinners, people look past you.”

The words landed harder than I expected. I set my fork down carefully.

“I’m not Lena,” I said.

“That’s the point.”

Jake’s jaw tightened almost too small to notice. He set his glass down and looked at his brother. “That’s enough.”

Ryan raised an eyebrow. “What? I’m just being honest.”

“There’s honesty,” Jake said, “and then there’s talking to your wife like that in front of everyone.”

Ryan stared at him for a second, then laughed again, shorter this time. “Since when do you care? You’re the one who spends all day around fit women. You know what looks good.”

Jake didn’t answer. His eyes drifted back to me. That same lingering look. I felt it like a hand on the back of my neck. I hated how aware of him I suddenly was.

I stood up. My chair scraped lightly against the floor.

“I’m going to clear the plates,” I said.

No one stopped me. I stacked the dishes with careful hands and carried them to the kitchen. The voices in the dining room continued at a lower volume. I turned on the water and stared at the soap bubbles forming in the sink.

A moment later I heard footsteps. Jake came in carrying two more plates. He set them on the counter beside me.

“You okay?” he asked.

I kept my eyes on the dishes. “I’m fine.”

“He’s been like that more often,” Jake said. Not a question.

I didn’t answer. I didn’t trust my voice.

Jake leaned one hip against the counter, arms crossed. He wasn’t standing too close, but the kitchen suddenly felt smaller.

“If you change your mind about the training,” he said, “the offer stands. Private sessions. No one else has to be around if you don’t want them to.”

I finally looked at him. His expression was calm, but his eyes still held that same intensity from the table. It made my stomach twist in a way I didn’t want to name.

“I said I’ll do it myself.”

He nodded once. “Alright. Just know the door’s open.”

He stayed there another second, watching me, before pushing off the counter and walking back toward the dining room. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

When I returned to the table, Ryan was already talking about work. Mom and Dad looked relieved the earlier topic had died. Jake sat back in his chair, quiet again. Every now and then I felt his eyes on me. Not long enough for anyone else to notice. Just long enough to make my skin warm.

I pushed the remaining food around my plate and counted the minutes until I could leave the table.

Later that night, Ryan came into the bedroom while I was folding laundry. He sat on the edge of the bed and watched me.

“You’re still mad,” he said.

“I’m not mad.”

“You went quiet. That usually means you’re mad.” He sighed. “I only said those things because I care. You used to look after yourself more. Now it’s like you don’t even try.”

I folded a shirt slower than necessary. “Comparing me to your secretary in front of your parents isn’t caring.”

“It was just an example. Lena works hard on herself. That’s all.”

I didn’t answer.

Ryan stood and walked over. He put a hand on my shoulder. “Just try the gym with Jake. One month. If nothing changes, fine. But at least try. For me.”

I kept folding.

He squeezed my shoulder once, then let go. “Think about it. He’s family. He’s not going to make it weird.”

I told myself I would start walking in the mornings. I told myself I didn’t need anyone’s help, especially not his.