Second Set

The padel court echoed with every shot, the glass walls sweating in the humidity. Marcus hadn't played since the funeral, hadn't wanted to. But Elena had insisted, and after three months of avoiding her calls, he'd shown up.

"You're still gripping it like you want to kill someone," she called from across the net, her orange sports bra bright against the gray sky. The same comment she'd made for years, back when they were something more than friends, before the promotion, before the corporate restructuring, before she'd taken the job in London and left him drowning in mortgage payments for an apartment they'd picked out together.

The rally ended with Marcus driving the ball into the fence. His hands shook as he reached for his water bottle.

"I ordered that salad you like," Elena said, gesturing to a bench where containers of takeout sat wilting in the heat. "Spinach, walnuts, that disgusting vinaigrette you pretend is healthy."

"You still remember."

"I remember everything, Marcus. That's the problem."

Thunder rumbled distantly, almost like the clearing of a throat. The first heavy drops of rain began to fall just as lightning cracked the sky open—a violent fracture of white that illuminated everything between them for one stark, suspended moment. The photos on her phone she'd forgotten to delete. The drunk text she'd sent three weeks after the wedding. The way she'd said his name that last night in the apartment they'd never move into.

They sat on the bench as the rain destroyed the food, orange and green mixing in a sad swirl against the concrete. Marcus's shoulder pressed against hers, the familiar warmth spreading through his wet shirt like an accusation.

"I'm sorry," she said, not for the first time.

"I know," he said, not forgiving her.

They'd finish the set tomorrow. They'd play every Sunday until neither of them showed up. That's what people did when they couldn't move forward and wouldn't walk back—just held their ground in the deluge, pretending it wasn't soaking them both to the bone.