Cable TV Silence

Maria lay in bed watching her husband sleep, the blue glow from the cable box illuminating his exhausted face. Three years of marriage, and somehow they'd become strangers who shared a bed and a Netflix subscription.

"Marcus?" she whispered. No response. He'd stayed out late again—padel with the boys from work, or so he claimed. She knew the scent of another woman's perfume when she smelled it on his collars, sharp and chemical, nothing like her own vanilla and old books smell.

She slipped out of bed and went to the kitchen. On the counter sat her weekly pill organizer—vitamin D for the seasonal depression that had been crushing her since autumn, B-complex for energy she never felt, magnesium for sleep that wouldn't come. She swallowed them dry, staring at the dark window and her own ghostly reflection.

The cable company called yesterday. They'd detected unauthorized signal piracy at their address. Marcus must have forgotten to pay the bill again, or maybe he'd cancelled it entirely. Another small failure in the constellation of them.

"Maria?" Marcus stood in the doorway, scratching his chest. "What are you doing up?"

"Thinking about vitamins and cable bills," she said, voice flat. "And how you came home smelling like expensive perfume."

He stiffened. "I told you, we went to that new club after padel. They have those fancy soaps in the locker room—"

"Marcus, please. I'm not an idiot."

He deflated. "I was going to tell you. I just... didn't know how."

"There's how to tell me, and then there's the fact that you didn't. Those are different things."

They stood in the kitchen, the hum of the refrigerator between them. Outside, a car alarm pierced the silence, then died.

"I've been taking those vitamins for six months," Maria said finally. "They haven't fixed anything. You playing padel three times a week hasn't fixed anything. This cable we're both on, pretending everything's fine—it's going to kill us."

"So what now?" Marcus asked quietly.

"Now?" Maria walked to the cable box and pressed power. The screen went black. "Now we stop pretending."