Love Games at Sunset

The padel court echoed with the rhythmic thwack of racquets meeting ball, but Elena's mind was elsewhere. She watched Lucas across the net, his sweat-dampened shirt clinging to muscles that used to feel like home. Now they felt like territory she'd lost.

"Your serve," he called out, not meeting her eyes.

She missed the ball entirely. It bounced twice, dying near the baseline like their conversation earlier that morning.

After the game, they sat on the bench separating them. Lucas's cat, a scruffy tabby he'd rescued after their breakup, wound around his legs. The irony wasn't lost on Elena—she'd chosen the apartment, he'd chosen the cat, and somehow he'd won both.

"Hungry?" he asked, finally looking at her. The papaya he'd brought sat between them, ripe and splitting like their secrets. "Your favorite."

She'd stopped eating papaya three months ago, when she discovered his texts to someone else. But she said, "Sure."

He carved the fruit with practiced hands. They'd shared hundreds of breakfasts this way—him preparing food, her watching from the counter, their separate morning routines merging into something sacred. Now the papaya tasted like betrayal and nostalgia.

"I'm cooking tonight," he said. "Spinach and feta tart. Remember how you used to make it?"

She remembered. She remembered everything. The way he hummed while washing dishes. How he held her during miscarriage scare. The small kindnesses that made leaving impossible for two years.

"I have plans," she lied.

The cat jumped onto the bench between them, demanding attention from both. Lucas scratched behind its ears, his ring catching the light—still the one she'd given him.

"Elena," he started, then stopped. The papaya lay forgotten between them, oxidizing in the cooling air.

She stood up, grabbing her bag. "Same time next week?" she heard herself ask, the question automatic and hopeless.

He nodded, not smiling. "Same time."

Walking away, she realized the cruel truth: she kept showing up to these games not to win him back, but to remember why she'd lost. The padel court had become their cemetery, and she kept bringing flowers.