Second Serves

Mark stood alone at the padel court, the glass walls reflecting his hollow expression. Three months since Elena left, and he'd finally learned to play without her—without her laugh echoing across the court, without her competitive smile when she scored against him. The sport she'd dragged him to, the one he'd grown to love, now felt like performing surgery on himself.

"You're gripping the racket too tight."

He turned to find Sarah, his divorce attorney's assistant, standing courtside with a Golden Retriever.

"Buster's my sister's," she explained, seeing his stare. "I'm watching him while she's in Greece. Lucky me."

The dog wagged his tail, as if mocking Mark's solitary game.

"Want to play?" Mark heard himself ask. Why not? Sarah had handled Elena's paperwork with ice in her veins. She'd probably destroy him at padel too.

Twenty minutes later, he was sweating, frustrated, and grinning. Sarah played ruthlessly, calling her shots with cold precision, while Buster lay in the shade, occasionally lifting his head when someone cheered.

"You're good," Mark admitted, wiping his forehead.

"I played in college. Tennis." She hesitated. "My ex-husband introduced me to padel. Said it was more 'social.'"

The irony hung between them like smoke.

Afterward, they sat at the café nearby. Mark ordered a spinach salad because that's what Elena always ordered—healthy, virtuous, utterly joyless. He found himself describing the garden he'd started, the spinach growing in rows like little soldiers, and how he'd forgotten to water them this morning.

"Buster would love a garden," Sarah said, watching the dog nose at a fallen croissant. "He digs up everything my sister plants. She calls him her landscaping assistant."

Mark laughed, and for the first time in months, it wasn't forced.

"Maybe I need a dog," he said. "Someone to remind me I'm still alive."

Sarah's phone buzzed. Her sister was extending her trip two more weeks.

"Buster needs a place to stay," she said, not meeting his eyes. "My apartment doesn't allow pets."

Outside, the dog pressed his nose against the glass, tail thumping a hopeful rhythm. Mark's spinach sat untouched, but for the first time, he wasn't thinking about what he'd lost. He was wondering what he might grow in those neglected garden beds, and whether a dog named Buster might like spinach too.