Arjun Sharma climbed the stairs to FitZone Gym on Linking Road, the Mumbai monsoon's 38°C heat lingering in the evening air, mingling with the scent of bhajiyas from the vegetable stalls below. At 45, 1.85 meters, and ~100 kg, he felt a spark Meera's "psycho" chaos—rants over spilled chai or his cricket game binges—had long smothered. Back in his IT days, her Rants and 80-hour workweeks had bloated him with stress, but the Midlife Mastery System was rewriting his story: lighter steps, clearer gut, a grin that stuck. This gym's my next level, he thought, his ₹5,000 Nike sneakers—bought via Swiggy Instamart—gripping the steps.
His phone showed ₹17,050, built from , His daily Ola hustle, could hit ₹90,000 a month, crushing his old ₹50,000 IT peak. Meera controlled every paisa; now I invest in me, he mused, checking his SBI UPI. A pension for Priya's future or a new scooter felt within reach, thanks to the system.
FitZone's second floor was a sprawling maze of treadmills, weights, and mirrors, pulsing with Bollywood remixes. A dozen gym-goers—sweaty bros in tank tops, women in leggings—dotted the space, less crowded than Juhu's beaches. Arjun approached the front desk, where two trainers in yoga pants, Neha and Riya, lounged on a sofa, scrolling phones. "First time here," he said, adjusting his glasses.
The desk clerk, a perky woman in a FitZone polo, lit up. "Welcome! Monthly, quarterly, or yearly plan? Monthly's ₹1500—equipment, showers free. Quarterly's 1200 for three months, same perks. Yearly's ₹12,000,, 1,000 a month. best deal."
Arjun hesitated. ₹12,000 for a year? Meera would've banned gyms as "wasting money," like his ₹5000 Fruits. But the Midlife Mastery System's gym task promised ₹20,000 for the first check-in, plus ₹1,000 daily thereafter. Money's my fitness fuel, he grinned. "Yearly plan," he said, tapping ₹12,000 via UPI. His phone pinged: "SBI: ₹12,000 debited. Balance: ₹5,050."
"Happy fitness!" the clerk chirped. "Want a private trainer session?"
"First timer, so yeah," Arjun nodded. "What's the deal?"
The clerk turned to the trainers. "Neha, Riya, who's free for this bhai?"
Neha, in red yoga pants, glanced up, sizing Arjun's plain tee and lack of bling. Late 50s, no watch, no cash vibe, her look said. "I'm booked," she muttered, eyes back on her phone.
Riya, in blue, smirked. "Me too. Bhai, let's find someone else." She paused, polite but dismissive. "Any preference—male or female coach?"
Arjun shrugged, unfazed. "I'm a newbie. Anyone who can teach a rookie works." Their loss, he thought, catching their subtle shade. Meera's jabs had toughened him—being seen as "old" was nothing new.
A new trainer, Shalini Sharma, strode in, her pink yoga pants and halter top turning heads. At 1.7 meters, with a fit frame and no jewelry, she radiated a quiet hustle. "I'm free," she said, waving off Neha's glance. Unlike the others, she didn't size Arjun up for cash—her smile was genuine, her porcelain teeth catching the gym's neon glow.
"Shalini's great," the clerk said. "She's new but sharp."
"Arjun Sharma," he introduced, shaking her hand. "Same surname—fate, huh?"
Shalini laughed, her confidence easing him. "Maybe, Sharma ji! I'm Shalini Sharma. First time in a gym?"
"Yup," Arjun admitted. "Used to think lifting was carrying Meera's shopping bags." Her laugh echoed, drawing glares from Neha and Riya.
"Follow me," Shalini said, leading him to the equipment area. Treadmills whirred, dumbbells clanked, and mirrors reflected sweaty determination. Male gym-goers stole glances at Shalini, but she ignored them, focused on Arjun. "What's your fitness goal? Casual workout or something specific?"
"Lose weight, get healthy," Arjun said. "I'm 45 but feel older—stress, bad diet, you know. Not chasing six-packs, just a stronger me."
Shalini nodded, her eyes meeting his without judgment. "You're tall, good foundation. Stick with it a year, you'll see results. Most guys your age—beer, biryani, no discipline. You seem different."
Arjun grinned, her warmth a contrast to Meera's chaos. "Got a system keeping me on track," he said, thinking of the Midlife Mastery System. "Let's start small."
She led him to a scale. "Step on, let's check your baseline." Arjun complied, the digital display climbing to 102 kg with shoes. ~101 kg barefoot, he noted, recalling his ~101 kg from running logs. "Height's 1.85 meters, maybe 1.87 with these Nikes," he joked.
Shalini's face stayed calm, professional. "At 1.85 meters and ~101 kg, you're a bit overweight, but it's workable. We'll focus on cardio, strength, and diet. Ready for a trial session?"
"Born ready," Arjun said, following her to the treadmills. As they walked, Neha whispered to Riya, "Shalini's stuck with that uncle. Bet he quits in a week."
Riya smirked. "She's too nice. No rich clients, no commission." Their words drifted, but Arjun caught the vibe. They see an old guy, not my hustle, he thought, unfazed. Shalini's focus felt like a win.
The trial session kicked off with a 10-minute treadmill warm-up, Shalini adjusting the speed. "Ease in, don't sprint like Juhu Beach," she teased, referencing his running task. Arjun laughed, sweat beading as he found his rhythm. She guided him to dumbbells, showing proper form for bicep curls, her instructions clear. "Engage your core, not just arms," she said, correcting his stance.
Halfway through, his phone buzzed—a WhatsApp from Mrs. Desai: "Arjun bhai, heard you're at FitZone! Sanjay's jealous, says he's too broke for gyms. Don't let those trainers flirt you away!" He chuckled, typing: "Just sweating, aunty. No flirting here."
As the session wrapped, Arjun logged his first gym check-in via the Midlife Mastery System. His phone pinged: "First gym check-in complete! ₹20,000 credited. SBI: ₹20,000 credited to account ending 6867. Balance: ₹25,050. Earned: 2 attribute points, 2 knowledge scrolls. Daily gym check-ins: ₹1,000, 1 scroll." The attribute panel updated:
Height: 185 cm (+)Physical Age: 48 (-)Wealth: ₹25,050Strength: 60 (+)Spirit: 40 (+)Props: NoneDaily Tasks: Run 2 km, gym check-in
48? Arjun winced, Meera's rants and IT overtime aging him past 45. But the system's points—strength, spirit, maybe youth—were his comeback. I'm not that uncle they think.
His phone buzzed again—Priya: "Dad, aced a quiz! Celebrating with masala dosa. Home by 9." He grinned, typing: "Proud of you, kid. Save me a bite." Her reply was a heart emoji, warming him more than the gym's heat.
"Nice work, Sharma ji," Shalini said, handing him a towel. "Same time tomorrow?"
"Count me in," Arjun said, his pulse racing—not just from the workout. With ₹25,050, Priya's college secure, and the Midlife Mastery System fueling his hustle, Meera's chaos—chai wars, game bans—was a fading hum. Outside, Linking Road pulsed with rickshaws and neon, a bhel puri vendor calling out. Arjun was lifting new horizons, stronger and freer with every rep.