Service Fault

Elena's thumb hovered over her phone screen, the charging cable fraying at the connector—much like everything else in her life these days. Three missed calls from Marcus. She hadn't even left the office yet.

"You're coming tonight, right?" Jenna called from the doorway, already decked out in her neon pink padel outfit. "We need a fourth for mixed doubles."

Elena hesitated. Padel with Marcus's colleagues. Again. The same colleagues who'd been in the meeting yesterday where her project got reassigned to him. "I'm not feeling great. Think I'm coming down with something."

"Take a vitamin, drink some water, and get your ass on the court." Jenna's cheerfulness was exhausting. "Marcus said he'd save you a spot on his court. He's being so supportive about the whole reorganization."

Supportive. The word tasted like ash. Marcus had gotten the promotion Elena had been working toward for three years. His "support" consisted of suggesting she take a vitamin D supplement for her stress, as if sunlight in pill form could fix systemic workplace inequity.

She grabbed her bag anyway.

The padel club was a temple to performative wellness—turquoise courts, white uniforms, organic juice bar. Marcus stood at court four, laughing with his boss, radiating the easy confidence of someone whose life was unfolding according to plan.

"There she is!" Marcus wrapped her in a hug that felt staged. "Jenna said you weren't feeling well. I've got some vitamins in my locker if you need them."

His hand lingered on her waist. The message was clear: play along. Keep the peace. Don't make things weird.

The game was a blur. Elena missed every shot. Marcus kept apologizing to their opponents, making a show of patience, as if her incompetence on the court somehow proved why he'd gotten the promotion and she hadn't. The cable of her self-control was stretching thin.

"Your form's off," he whispered during a changeover. "Maybe we should skip post-match drinks. You need rest."

That was it. The cable snapped.

Elena walked off the court, leaving Marcus mid-sentence. She drove home, ripped the charging cable from her wall, and threw it in the trash. Some things couldn't be fixed. Some things weren't supposed to be.

Tomorrow, she'd update her résumé. Tonight, she ordered a pizza and watched trash television in the dark. The vitamins could wait.