Love Among the Ruins

The bear of a problem sat between us on the court, heavy and unacknowledged. Maya adjusted her padel racket, her movements precise, practiced. We used to play Sunday mornings like church — sacred, ritualistic. Now it felt like going through the motions.

"Your backhand's improved," she said, hitting a perfect shot down the line. It sailed past me, untouched.

"I've been practicing."

"At 6 AM? Before work?"

"Yes."

She didn't ask why. She didn't ask about the insomnia, the way I lay awake beside her, feeling like a zombie in my own marriage — present but not alive, moving through days that blurred into each other. The corporate job had hollowed me out. I was successful on paper, empty inside.

"I made that spinach salad you like," she'd said that morning. "With the walnuts and goat cheese."

"I'm not hungry."

"You're never hungry anymore."

Her serve came hard. I returned it weakly. She punished me with a volley to the corner.

"We need to talk," she said between points.

"Can we just play?"

"David, I'm pregnant."

The ball bounced twice before I registered it. My racket slipped from my hand, clattering on the artificial turf. A baby. A life we'd never discussed, a future I'd been too numb to imagine.

"Say something," she said.

"I — I don't know what to say."

"That's the problem. You don't know anything anymore. You don't know me. You don't know yourself."

She walked to the net, tears cutting through her sunscreen. I joined her there, the bear finally out in the open — massive, terrifying, undeniable. My hands shook as I reached for her.

"I'm scared," I admitted. "That I'm already gone. That there's nothing left to give."

She let me hold her, stiff at first, then softening. "Then find something. Anything. But you have to want to."

The sun beat down on us, harsh and unforgiving. Behind us, the next court was empty. No one was watching. I kissed her forehead, tasting salt and sunscreen, and for the first time in months, something stirred inside me — faint, fragile, but real.

"Let's go home," I said. "I'll try the salad."