Service Break

The padel court glass backboard shuddered as another volley went wild—thwack against the fence, nowhere near playable. Elena didn't chase it. She let her racket drop to the blue surface, standing there chest-heaving in the humid twilight.

'You're not even trying,' Marcus said from the other side of the net. The sterile indoor lights buzzed overhead, casting harsh shadows across his face. Outside, through the court's glass walls, the first real lightning of the season was stitching the sky purple-white, flash after flash like some desperate warning. 'You haven't been trying for months.'

Elena laughed—a sharp, exhausted sound. 'You think this is about padel, Marcus?' She bent to retrieve her racket, smoothing her skirt with trembling hands. 'I found the texts.'

The silence stretched between them, heavier than the storm-charged air beyond the glass.

In the corner of the court, their dog—a golden retriever named Barnaby who'd been sleeping through his fourth match of the week—lifted his head at the change in tone. His collar jingled as he stood, uncertain, tail giving a tentative wag.

Marcus's face did something complicated—defensive, then caught out, then shuttered. 'It's not what you think.'

'It never is.' Elena walked to the bench where her water bottle sat. She didn't drink. Just watched another lightning fork split the sky, brilliant and terrible and gone in a heartbeat. 'The dog knows, you know. Before I did. He stopped sleeping on your side of the bed.'

Marcus looked at Barnaby, who was watching them both with that desperate, earnest gaze dogs give when they sense something's broken and don't know how to fix it. 'He's a dog, El. He doesn't know—'

'She's twenty-six, Marcus.' The padel court felt suddenly enormous, absurdly small at the same time. 'She's an associate at your firm. I met her at the Christmas party.' She picked up her bag. 'This was our last match.'

Another lightning flash illuminated everything—the court, the dog still standing there confused, Marcus's open mouth, her own hands gripping her bag like she might fall. 'I'm staying at Sarah's.'

She walked out through the glass doors, the storm finally breaking overhead. Behind her, Barnaby barked once—uncertain, questioning—before following her into the rain.