Blue Light by the Pool

The chlorine still clung to Elena's hair as she sat on the edge of the pool, watching the company retreat dissolve into intoxicated laughter. Her mascara had migrated south sometime around 8 PM, but she'd stopped caring hours ago.

She'd spent three minutes in the bathroom trying to dislodge a piece of spinach from her front tooth with her fingernail, some remnant of the appetizer platter she'd barely touched. That's when she'd seen it—Marcus's iPhone glowing on the counter, a notification sliding across the screen: "Can't wait to see you tomorrow xoxo" from someone named Sarah.

Sarah, who'd been introduced to Elena as Marcus's "work friend" when they arrived that afternoon. Sarah, who currently stood across the pool, laughing too loudly at something Marcus said, her hand lingering on his forearm.

Elena's wet hair plastered against her neck like evidence of a crime she hadn't committed yet. She watched them through the distortion of pool water rippling in the breeze, Marcus's familiar profile illuminated by string lights, Sarah's head tilted at that exact angle that says I'm listening but also I'm interested.

The thing was, Elena had known. She'd felt the distance growing like a tumor, months of Marcus checking his phone during dinner, of "working late" three nights a week, of that new cologne he'd started wearing. But knowing and seeing were different animals. Knowing lived in her stomach. Seeing lived in her throat.

She stood up, water dripping from her dress onto the concrete. The spinach was gone from her tooth, but the taste remained. Some things don't wash clean.

Across the pool, Marcus looked up, his face shifting through recognition, panic, and then something like surrender. He started toward her, but Elena didn't wait. She picked up her bag, her phone, her dignity, and walked toward the hotel entrance.

Tomorrow, she'd call a lawyer. Tonight, she needed sleep.