Service Games

The ball ricocheted off the glass wall with that familiar satisfying crack, Elena's padel racket slicing through the humid afternoon air. She'd been playing with Marcus every Thursday for three years, their friendship cemented in sweat and competitive banter.

Today, though, something felt off. Marcus's serves were weak, his usual sharp wit dull. When he bent to retrieve a ball, his palm pressed against his knee, and she noticed the tremor—subtle, but there.

"You're dragging,"

Elena called from across the court.

"Just tired,"

Marcus waved her off. But when they collapsed onto the bench between sets, he didn't reach for his water bottle. Instead, he fumbled with a vitamin D supplement, his hands betraying him.

Elena's iphone buzzed in her bag. She ignored it—Marcus's wife, Sarah, had been texting her all morning. Strange, anxious messages: "Have you noticed anything?" "He's not himself."

Marcus swallowed the vitamin dry, his throat working. "Elena, there's something I need to tell you."

She waited, the hum of the air conditioner suddenly loud.

"Sarah left. Two weeks ago."

The silence stretched between them, heavier than the Barcelona heat. Elena stared at him—at the man she'd thought she knew, whose marriage she'd envied, whose life she'd assumed was perfect.

"I've been sleeping in my office. Didn't want anyone to know. Couldn't face... this."

He gestured at the court, at their weekly game, at the illusion of normalcy.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Elena's voice cracked. "We're friends."

Marcus laughed bitterly. "That's just it. Everything's fine—work, padel, drinks afterward. If I say it out loud, it becomes real. And I wasn't ready for real."

Elena's phone buzzed again. She pulled it out—Sarah. "I'm sorry to burden you. I just don't know who else knows anything. I'm worried."

She showed Marcus the screen.

He stared at it, his shoulders slumping. "She still cares. That's almost worse."

"Do you still love her?" Elena asked quietly.

Marcus closed his eyes. "I don't know what I feel anymore. Just tired."

Elena stood up and extended her hand, palm open. "Come on. We're finishing this set. Then you're coming to my place, and you're going to shower and eat something that isn't a vitamin tablet. And then we're going to figure out how you talk to your wife."

Marcus looked at her hand, then up at her face. For the first time all afternoon, something like hope flickered in his eyes.

"You're terrible at boundaries, El."

"I know."

He took her hand, and she pulled him up. "Game on."