Absorption

Marcus lined up the supplements on the granite counter in military precision. Vitamin D, magnesium, zinc—a daily ritual of faith in chemistry over feeling.

"You're doing it again," Elena said from the kitchen island, her orange juice glass sweating onto the coaster. "Trying to optimize yourself out of being unhappy."

He didn't turn around. "It's called self-care, El. Not everyone can just—exist."

"Exist." She laughed bitterly. "Is that what we call lying in bed until noon because you're 'depleted'? While I cancel my paddle tournament because someone has to pay for the organic spinach that rots in the crisper drawer week after week?"

Marcus swallowed the handful of pills with practiced efficiency. The click of the empty vitamin bottle hitting the counter echoed.

"I signed up for the new padel league," he said. "With David from work."

Elena's stilled. "David. The one who sent you those articles about male optimization?"

"He understands. About the fatigue."

"The fatigue of choosing to check out?" Elena's voice cracked. "You know what I absorbed today, Marcus? While you were optimizing? A cancellation from our fertility clinic. The third one this quarter. Because someone has to work while you're busy finding yourself in supplements and racket sports."

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating. The orange glow of sunset hit the kitchen windows, illuminating the dust on surfaces neither of them had cleaned in weeks.

"I'm tired," Marcus whispered, finally facing her. His eyes were bloodshot, rimmed with exhaustion that no amount of zinc could fix. "I thought if I could just—fix the body—"

"The body isn't the problem." Elena walked to him, placed a hand on his chest. "The absorption you need isn't something you can buy."

She kissed him softly, tasting of orange and salt. Behind them, the forgotten spinach wilted in the refrigerator, a testament to everything they kept choosing instead of each other.