Service Fault

The padel ball bounced once, twice against the glass wall before Miguel stepped forward, racket raised. His knees protested—a reminder of forty-five years on this earth, most of them spent believing he could still win.

Across the court, Daniel laughed. Same easy laugh that had drawn Elena to him three years ago at this same club. Miguel's ex-wife stood near the bench, one hand buried in the fur of Buster—that traitorous golden retriever who'd switched allegiances without blinking when the marriage dissolved. The dog had always loved Daniel more.

"You're thinking too much," Elena called. Her hair was shorter now. Sharp. Professional.

"Always," Miguel said, and served into the net.

The point replayed in his head: dinner last Christmas, Elena mentioning Daniel's promotion. Miguel had made a joke—something petty about corporate climbers. Elena's silence had been heavier than any argument.

After the divorce, she'd kept the apartment. He'd kept his dignity and—ironically—Luna, her elderly black cat who'd attached herself to Miguel with fierce loyalty. Every night, Luna slept on his chest, purring against the hollow space where his future used to be.

Game point. Daniel's serve. Miguel returned it high, watched it sail long.

"Good match," Daniel said, approaching the net with hand extended.

Michael gripped his friend's hand. They'd been best men at each other's weddings—different women, different decades. Now Daniel was having an affair with Miguel's ex-wife, and everyone pretended it was complicated.

It wasn't. Elena had left because Miguel had stopped seeing her. Daniel had simply been paying attention.

Buster bounded over, tail wagging, and licked Miguel's hand. The dog didn't hold grudges. That was a human luxury.

"We're having people over Saturday," Elena said. "You should come. Luna, too."

Miguel should say no. Should maintain boundaries. Should be the bigger person.

"What time?" he heard himself ask.

Later that night, Luna curled against his ribs, Miguel wondered why we pretend love can be contained by rules. The padel court had dimensions, boundaries you couldn't cross without penalty. People didn't work that way.

He texted Elena: I'll bring wine.

Luna purred, and for the first time in months, Miguel slept through the night.