Landing on My Feet

The pool was empty at 5 AM — just the way I liked it. Swimming had become my only refuge since Marcia stole my promotion. Sixteen laps in, my muscles burned, but my mind was finally quiet.

"You're getting faster," a voice called from the deck.

I stopped mid-stroke, water streaming from my face. It was Liam, standing there in his uniform, holding a cat carrier. "Since when do you swim here?"

"Since my divorce. Cheap therapy." He set down the carrier. "This is Buster. My ex's cat. She couldn't take him to her new place."

The cat stared at me through the mesh door, amber eyes unblinking.

"Marcia told everyone you're having a breakdown," Liam said, sitting on the edge of the pool. "Said you haven't been the same since the funeral."

I treaded water, my heart suddenly racing. "What funeral?"

"Your mother's. Three months ago." Liam's voice was gentle. "You didn't know?"

The water went cold around me. I hadn't spoken to my mother in eight years — not since she chose Marcia's father over my father. Marcia, my childhood friend-turned-corporate rival, who'd apparently been telling everyone I was grieving a woman I'd erased from my life.

"She's lying," I said, but the words felt hollow.

"Marcia's a cat," Liam said, opening the carrier. The cat stepped out, tail high, head held imperiously. "Always lands on her feet. Whatever she's doing, it's calculation, not coincidence."

Buster walked to the edge and dipped one paw in the water, testing it. Smart cat.

"What did she do?" Liam asked.

I told him everything — the stolen presentation, the whispered rumors, the way she'd systematically dismantled my reputation at work. And now this: manufacturing a personal tragedy to explain away her professional sabotage.

"Classic cat move," Liam said. "Make it about your emotional state, not her actions."

The cat was swimming now, paddling confidently toward the far end of the pool.

"You know," I said, watching the cat's steady progress, "cats always land on their feet. But they still have to fall first."

"True." Liam stood up. "But you're the one who's been swimming every day. Building strength. Getting faster."

He left with the wet cat, and I finished my laps in silence. Tomorrow, I'd walk into that office and Marcia would see exactly what kind of friend she'd made — the kind who comes back stronger than before.