Liquidity Crisis

The iphone buzzed against the marble countertop, its screen lighting up with HER name again. Sarah's hands trembled as she reached for it, the condensation from her glass of water leaving wet rings on the expensive surface. Three missed calls. Two texts: "We need to talk." and "I know about the promotion."

The cat—a scrawny rescue tomcat named Lucky—wound around her ankles, purring loudly as if sensing her distress. Lucky was the only living thing in this penthouse that didn't want something from her.

"You're up early," came a voice from the doorway.

Mark stood there in his suit, already manicured for another day of conquering Wall Street. His eyes flicked to her phone, then away. "Big presentation today. The bull market's waiting for no one."

"Bullshit," she said, the word escaping before she could catch it.

He froze. "Excuse me?"

"The market's been bearish for weeks. You've been staying late at the office every night this quarter." She picked up the iphone, her finger hovering over Jessica's messages. "What's her name?"

Mark's face went through several emotions—shock, denial, then a weary resignation. "It's not what you think."

"It never is."

The moment stretched between them, thick and suffocating. She thought of the water glass behind her—how easy it would be to shatter it against the floor, to create some kind of catharsis. Instead, she turned to the sink and began washing her hands, as if she could scrub away the last seven years of marriage.

"Sarah—" he started, reaching for her.

She pulled away, her hands still dripping. "Don't."

The cat jumped onto the counter, nudging her hand with its head. She buried her fingers in his fur, finding comfort in the only honest thing in this room.

"I'll stay at a hotel tonight," she said, grabbing her bag. "Don't wait up."

The door clicked shut behind her. Outside, the city skyline glittered with thousands of lights, each representing someone else's illusion of happiness. She walked toward the river, watching the water flow beneath the bridge, thinking about how some things—like trust, like time—were far more valuable than any stock portfolio could ever measure.

Her iphone buzzed again. This time, she didn't check it.