Breathing Under

The padel court echoed with the rhythmic thwack of rubber against glass. Elena hadn't picked up a racquet in seven years, not since Marcus moved to London and their friendship dissolved into forwarded emails and occasional holiday texts.

"Your backhand's gotten sloppy," he said, leaning against the net. Same crooked smile. Same infuriating calm.

"And your ego hasn't shrunk at all." Elena wiped sweat from her forehead. "Why did you call me, Marcus? After all this time?"

He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he walked to the bench where his cat carrier sat. A black cat with amber eyes watched them through the mesh. "This is Bull. My ex's cat. She's moving to Dubai and can't take him."

"You named a cat Bull?"

"Short for Bulleit. Like the bourbon. We used to drink it while swimming in your building's pool at 3 AM." He looked at her. "Remember?"

Elena remembered. That was the night everything changed between them—the night Marcus almost kissed her beside the pool's glass wall, the night she pulled away because she was marrying someone else three months later. Someone who turned out to be exactly as terrible as her mother warned.

"That was a lifetime ago," she said.

"I'm getting divorced," Marcus said quietly. "She's taking everything except the cat. I'm starting over. And I thought... maybe you could take Bull."

"You flew all the way from London to ask me to cat-sit?"

"I flew to ask if you're still swimming alone at 3 AM."

The silence stretched between them, heavy and charged. Elena's marriage had ended six months ago. She'd been swimming in that same building pool every night since, waiting for something she couldn't name.

Marcus's phone buzzed. He checked it and cursed. "That's my ride. I have a flight back in two hours."

He pushed the cat carrier toward her. "Think about it. Either way, don't swim alone."

Elena watched him walk away, the echo of his footsteps fading. The cat meowed, a sound like a question. Outside, the London rain had followed him here, darkening the sky.

She opened the carrier. Bull stepped out, amber eyes calculating, and wound around her legs. In the glass wall's reflection, Elena saw herself: older, yes, but for the first time in years, not holding her breath.

"Alright then," she whispered, lifting the cat into her arms. "Let's go home."