...are normal?

Tuesday
I was at my desk when Emily's instagram notification popped up. That was unusual - she rarely posted during work hours. She said it felt unprofessional. I tapped the notification and saw a selfie from her office, her hair slightly tousled, a genuine smile slightly hidden by the black coffee mug she was holding in frame.

"Tough morning already, needed this little guy extra creamy today. Thanks @DHendo ☕❤"

I smiled. It was cute, a little random maybe. She usually saved posts for evenings or weekends, but she was probably just having a rough day and wanted a pick-me-up. Nice that she was tagging her boss too. A friendly manager is much easier to work with. I double-tapped it and sent her a quick text: "Saw your post! Hope your day gets better. You've got this ❤".

She hearted my message about twenty minutes later. No reply, but she was busy.

That night, I asked her about it when she came in around 8. "Saw your coffee post, " I said, dishing her up some pasta on the kitchen bar. "Everything okay?"

She blinked, then laughed. "Oh yeah! Just one of those days. Dean had us in back-to-back meetings even though he knew how busy we were - but he at least helped me make a tasty brew." She said, rolling her eyes. She twirled a forkful of spaghetti. "Did you like the picture? I felt kinda silly taking it."

"You looked great," I said. "Really natural. You should post more often."

She beamed. "Maybe I will."

Wednesday
My phone buzzed at 5:42 AM. Emily: "First day at the new gym! Wish me luck! "

I texted back: "Knock em dead! "

I didn't hear from her for a few hours. Then, at lunch, a new Instagram post appeared. A gym selfie, taken in front of a wall of mirrors. Emily was in a sports bra and leggings, a small towel draped over her shoulder. She looked a little nervous, a bit flushed. The lighting was harsh, but she looked good - strong.

"First day at the Iron Temple. NGL, feeling a bit intimidated by all the BIG, STRONG men here. But I'm ready to work! #newgym #girlswholift"

I snorted affectionately. She looked so cute, trying to act tough. I could picture her shuffling awkwardly between the hulking guys, trying to figure out where the dumbbells were. I left a comment: "You're the strongest person I know. Go get em! ❤"

She gave my comment a heart emoji. The same as the others I saw filling up the comments thread. Wow, had she gained a bunch of followers recently? Typical of hot girl accounts I supposed.

That evening, she came home exhausted but exhilarated. She collapsed onto the couch next to me, her gym bag thudding to the floor. "I think I'm going to die," she announced, but she was grinning.

"Regretting it?" I asked, grinning back.

"No, it was amazing. Just hard work, plus the long hours... it's just a lot more than I'm used to taking." She grimaced a little, rotating her hips into the couch. "Maybe I should try a standing desk, keep myself limber through the day." Then she flexed her arm at me. "I can feel the difference already though."

"Babe, it's been one day," I laughed.

"Shh, let me have this." She leaned over and kissed my cheek, then rested her head on my shoulder. "Thanks for being so supportive. I know I've been all over the place."

"I love seeing you excited about something," I said. "It's sweet."

Thursday
Another early morning gym text. another post at lunchtime. This time, the photo was from a different angle - lower, showing more of the gym's equipment in the background. Emily was stretching, her body bent forward, one hand touching her toes. It was a good photo. Tasteful. A little sexy, maybe, but she looked athletic.

"Shoutout to my trainer @MarcusTPT for the thorough stretching session today. I didn't know I could bend like this. #flexibilitygoals"

I stared at the post for a moment longer. Trainer? I didn't remember Emily mentioning a trainer. She'd said she was trying out the gym, but not that she'd signed up for personal training. That was a bit odd - we usually told each other about expenses like that.

I made a mental note to ask her about it later. Then I got distracted by an email from my boss and forgot entirely.

Later that same day, another post. This time, a photo of her coffee mug at her office desk, same kind of shot as Tuesday. The caption: "I think I'm getting addicted to the extra cream. Good thing I'm hitting the gym hard to deal with all the extra protein ☕ #coffeelover #balance"

I laughed. Extra protein. She was so dorky with her puns. I liked seeing this playful side of her emerging. For years, she'd been so reserved online, barely posting anything more personal than a landscape photo. Now she was sharing her life, her humour, her new hobbies.

I was proud of her.

That night we ate leftovers on the couch, watching a cooking show. She was quieter than usual, but not in a bad way. Content. She read her book for about half an hour before bed - something about fairies and crowns, I think - her head resting against my arm, and then she fell asleep, her breathing slow and peaceful. I turned off the lamp and kissed her forehead.

"Goodnight," I whispered.

She stirred, murmured something I couldn't catch, and settled deeper into the pillows.

Friday
Her lunchtime post caught me mid-bite of a sandwich. A photo of a lingerie rack in a shop, frilly and colourful. She'd picked out a specific set - black lace, delicate straps. Her caption: "Shopping for Chloe's bachelorette this weekend. Should I get this? And more importantly... should I post a selfie trying it on for y'all? "

I scrolled down. The likes were stacking up fast. Friends from college, coworkers, a few people I didn't recognise. Her best friend Jess commented: "YES. DO IT" Some else wrote: "We need to see it before Marcus does ". I assumed Marcus was her trainer. That seemed odd, was he going to the party too? Perhaps he'd been invited through gym connections.

I typed a comment: "Get it! You'd look amazing. ❤"

Then I opened Instagram again later and noticed she'd posted a story - a quick mirror selfie in the changing room, the lingerie on but mostly obscured by her phone and her crossed arms. It was playful, teasing. The caption: "I've bought it - you naughty people are bad influences ".

I grinned. She was having fun. Coming out of her shell. That was all I wanted for her.

That evening, she came home later than usual, carrying shopping bags. She dropped them by the door and gave me a long, tight hug.

"I missed you," she said into my shoulder.

"I missed you too. How was shopping?"

"Chaotic. Chloe's friends are a lot." She pulled back, her eyes sparkling. "But it's gonna be so fun. I'm really excited."

"Good, you deserve a break."

She made herself a small dinner - a salad with a grilled chicken - and ate it standing at the kitchen counter, scrolling through her phone. She showed me a picture of the lingerie laid out on our bed. "For tomorrow night," she said, winking.

I laughed. "Very fancy."

Then she showered, came out in her pajamas, and curled up beside me with her book again. I watched her read for a moment, the lamp casting shadows across her face.

"You're beautiful." I said.

She smiled, leaning over and kissing me, softly. "You're sweet. Now let me finish this chapter."

I lay back, watching her read again. Everything was fine. She was happy. Busy, but happy. The gym, the posts, the new habits - they were all part of her growing, exploring, becoming more of herself.

I had nothing to worry about.

Nothing at all.