Corporate Ascent

The villa's infinity pool disappeared into the darkness of the Sinai desert, its surface broken only by gentle ripples. Maya floated on her back, eyes fixed on the distant silhouette of the Great Pyramid, half an hour north. This was supposed to be their second honeymoon—a salvaging operation, really, after the affair.

Her iphone vibrated on the stone deck. Richard's work number. Again.

She let it go to voicemail.

The water felt like silk against her skin, cool and indifferent. Six months ago, she'd discovered the messages on his ipad. A junior associate. Someone climbing the corporate pyramid alongside him, someone who understood the long nights, the sacrifice, the game.

"You're overreacting," he'd said, pouring them both glasses of wine. "It's the culture. Everyone at the firm does this. It's not personal."

Maya dipped beneath the surface, holding her breath as long as she could. When she emerged, gasping, Richard stood at the pool's edge, illuminated by the glow of his phone screen.

"They need me," he said, not meeting her eyes. "The merger announcement is tomorrow."

"It's always something, Rick." She swam to the ladder, pulled herself out. Water dripped from her body, forming dark circles on the limestone. "Your father's funeral. Our anniversary. Now this trip."

"This is my career, Maya. We agreed—"

"We agreed that once you made partner, things would change." She wrapped herself in a towel, shivering despite the desert heat. "That was two years ago."

He sighed, scrolled through emails. "I ordered dinner. Room service. They made that spinach salad you like."

Maya laughed softly. "You remember what I like. That's something."

Richard finally looked up. His eyes were tired, haunted. "I'm doing this for us. For the house, the future—"

"What if I don't want that future anymore?" The question hung between them, heavier than the ancient stones looming beyond the resort's walls.

He lowered his phone. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that for years, I've been waiting for my husband to come back from the office." She stepped closer, dripping water onto his expensive leather loafers. "But I'm starting to think he died in that building, and what's left is just—something else. Something that knows my spinach order but can't remember the last time we made love without checking his email first."

The desert wind picked up, carrying dust and the distant echo of call to prayer. Richard's phone buzzed again.

He looked at it. Then at her.

Then he dropped it into the pool.

It sank without a sound. The ripples spread outward, distorting the reflection of stars above them.

"I can't promise I'll be perfect," he said quietly. "But I can try to be present. For however long you'll still have me."

Maya watched the water settle, smooth and dark again. "Start with dinner," she said. "And no phones at the table."

"Okay," he said. "Okay."

They walked back to the villa together, leaving wet footprints on the stone path that would evaporate by morning, just like all the things they'd said and left unsaid for so long.