Chasing Sunset

The orange sun dissolved into the infinity pool like a dropped pill, bleeding neon across the water's surface. Elena stood at the edge, her corporate-retreat name tag dangling askingly, nursing a drink she didn't want.

"You're not actually going to play, are you?" Mark materialized beside her, his padel racket tucked under one arm like a weapon he'd forgotten how to use. The team-building exercise felt less like bonding and more like a hostage situation organized by HR.

She'd been running from their conversation for three months—since the conference in Barcelona, since the hotel room, since she'd stopped being able to look his wife in the eye at company functions. The guilt lived in her stomach like something that hadn't digested properly.

"I'm thinking I might fake an injury," she said, watching couples drift through the twilight. "Twisted ankle. Sudden migraine. Food poisoning from the shrimp appetizers."

"You always were terrible at lying." His voice dropped, intimate and dangerous. "That's what made it——"

"Don't." The word came out sharper than she intended.

The pool lights flickered on, turning the water into something artificial and glowing. Somewhere on the padel court, laughter erupted—too loud, too forced. This was what their lives had become: manufactured moments in beautiful places, eating overpriced food while pretending they hadn't destroyed something fragile and real.

"I'm leaving the firm," she said suddenly. The truth tasted like orange juice after brushing your teeth—acrid, electric, impossible to ignore.

Mark's face changed. "For him?"

"For me." She set her glass down on the mosaic tile. "I'm done running."