Backhand Against the Dark

The padel court became Marcus's confessional at 6 AM, before the rest of the corporate world woke up to strategize and steal. His shoulder screamed every time he swung the racket—a physical reminder of the promotion he'd sacrificed at the altar of integrity. Three months of early mornings, and he still couldn't decide which hurt worse: the tendonitis or the principle that cost him his career.

"You're tightening up again," Sofia called from the other side of the net, bouncing on the balls of her feet like she hadn't just turned forty-five last week. "Your backhand is telegraphing everything you're afraid to say."

Marcus laughed, bitter and short. "Since when did you become my therapist?"

"Since you started throwing games because you're too busy staring at your phone to hit the ball."

She was right, damn her. The orange notification light on his phone had been blinking since dawn—his former assistant, probably trying to warn him about tomorrow's board meeting where his replacement would be announced. The man who'd signed off on data manipulation Marcus had refused to touch.

After the match, they sat on the bench as the sun crept over the horizon, turning the sky that particular shade of orange that made everything feel possible and hollow at the same time.

"I've been offered his job," Sofia said quietly, peeling the skin from a clementine. "The board wants someone with 'fresh perspective.'"

Marcus's stomach dropped. "And?"

"And I told them I'd think about it." She segmented the fruit with deliberate precision. "They don't know I saw the files. They don't know I kept copies."

He turned to her, really seeing her for the first time in three months of sunrise games. "You'd blow the whole thing up?"

"Some things are more important than being the person in charge." She handed him a segment of the orange, her fingers sticky with juice. "Come swimming with me Saturday. There's a cove past the old resort where the water's deep enough to drown out second thoughts."

Marcus took the fruit, tasted the sharp sweetness against the bitterness in his throat. "Sounds like a plan."

He didn't check his phone again until they reached the water's edge, and by then, the notification had expired into the gray light of another beginning.