Rally Point

The morning routine was precise: coffee, B-complex **vitamin**, exactly seven minutes of meditation. Elena checked her phone again—nothing from Marcus. Three days of silence since the **spy** drone photograph surfaced, her face caught in that compromising moment outside the Geneva safehouse.

She should have told him about her past work, the surveillance, the corporate intelligence game. But how do you explain that your former job was stealing trade secrets while you're falling for someone who believes in complete honesty?

Barnaby, their golden retriever, nudged her hand with his wet nose. He was the only one who didn't seem to care about her duplicity. "Come on, boy." She grabbed the **padel** racket from the hallway hook. Their usual Sunday match—she and Sarah against Marcus and whichever partner he'd scrape together. If he even showed.

The club was already sweltering at 9 AM. Sarah was waiting at the gate, sunglasses hiding her concern. "You okay? You look like you haven't slept."

"Rough couple of days." Elena scanned the courts. There. Marcus, stretching near Court 4 with his brother-in-law. Their eyes met across the synthetic blue surface. No warmth there, only the cold assessment of someone realizing they'd been played.

The match was brutal. Elena threw herself into every rally, the ball ricocheting off her racket with angry precision. Sweat dripped down her spine, her breathing sharp. With every smash, she thought: this is what it means to be fully known and still loved anyway—or not.

Afterwards, in the parking lot, Marcus leaned against her car. "Sarah told me about the biotech job you had in Zurich. The one you said was market research."

"I wanted to tell you. I just—"

"I don't care about the past, Elena. I care that you didn't trust me with it." He held out her dog's leash—Barnaby had slipped away during her conversation with Sarah. "But I'm trying to understand what kind of person builds a life on omission."

The vitamin bottle in her pocket felt suddenly heavy. Some things you can't fix with supplements.

"The kind who's terrified that if people see everything, they'll leave," she said quietly. "The spy stuff was just a job. The lying to you—that was fear."

Marcus studied her for a long moment. The morning heat pressed between them, thick with unsaid things. "Next Sunday," he said finally. "Same time. Don't make me find a new partner."

He walked toward his car. Elena exhaled, surprised to find she'd been holding her breath. Barnaby trotted after her, tail wagging—something, at least, that was still uncomplicated.