Game Point

The padel court shimmered in the heat, its glass walls sweating under the relentless Mexican sun. Elena adjusted her grip on the racket, watching Tomas across the net. His shirt was already stained through, his breathing too measured.

"You're overthinking it," he called, bouncing the ball. "Like always."

Elena didn't respond. Three months after the promotion he'd stolen—after the late nights she'd put into the proposal, the research he'd taken credit for—he still acted like nothing had happened. Like she should be grateful for the scraps.

Her phone buzzed on the bench nearby. Probably Mateo again. Her brother's golden retriever had died last week, and he kept calling to process it, as if she could make sense of his grief when she could barely name her own. The way he talked about that dog—the way it had waited for him by the door every evening, loyal to the end—made something ache in her chest.

She hadn't been loyal to anything in years.

"You going to serve?" Tomas's voice cut through her thoughts.

"You're not worth the effort," she said, and surprised herself by meaning it.

Later, she found herself at a beachside cantina she'd never noticed before. An old woman sat at a table with a sign: TAROT—PALM READING—$20. Elena's feet moved before she could decide against it.

The woman's fingers were rough against her skin, tracing the lines of her palm. She stopped at Elena's heart line, her expression unreadable.

"You're holding something," the woman said softly. "Something that doesn't belong to you anymore."

Elena thought of the proposal Tomas had presented as his own. The life she'd built on borrowed achievements. The dog her brother had loved so completely, so openly.

"What do I do with it?" Elena heard herself ask.

"That's the only part you can choose."

Outside, the wind moved through the palm trees, their fronds whispering against each other. Elena realized she didn't know what sound they made—had never stopped to listen. Had never stopped at all.

She took out her phone and called Mateo back. On the way to his house, she bought a leash. Something about starting over, about small steps. About finally learning how to be the person who waited by the door. The ball was back in her hands now. This time, she'd serve on her own terms.