Serving the Truth

The padel court smelled of rubber and desperation. Maya wiped sweat from her forehead as Elena's ball smacked into the wall, bouncing back at an impossible angle.

"You're playing like shit today," Elena called from across the net, grinning that predatory grin that had intimidated Maya since college. "Everything okay with Daniel?"

Maya's jaw tightened. She gripped her racquet harder. "Fine. Just tired."

"Tired like 'work's been crazy' or tired like 'your husband forgot your anniversary again'?"

The ball hit the fence. They both ignored it.

"Drop it, Elena."

Her friend chugged water from a plastic bottle, throat working. Elena always looked good, even flushed and sweaty—fifteen years of pilates and an allowance from daddy's trust fund would do that. Maya felt the familiar knot in her stomach, the one that tightened whenever they spent time together lately. The comparison game she couldn't stop playing, the resentment she couldn't quite swallow.

They met at the café afterward, as usual. Elena ordered the spinach salad with grilled chicken, hold the dressing. Maya ordered the same, because that's what she did now—mirrored Elena, somehow hoping it would close the gap between them.

"I saw Daniel's car outside that hotel near the airport last Thursday," Elena said, stabbing at her spinach. "Around 11 PM."

Maya's fork stopped halfway to her mouth. A piece of spinach clung to Elena's front tooth—green and vivid and absurdly ordinary against the backdrop of her words.

"He was working late," Maya said, but her voice sounded thin. Reedy.

"Maya." Elena's face softened, the teasing gone. "He was checking into the Hilton with that redhead from his marketing team."

The spinach still clung there. Maya wanted to reach across the table and pick it off, fix something, anything.

"You saw him check in?"

"I was dropping off Marcus at the airport for his bachelor party weekend." Elena covered Maya's hand with her own. "I'm sorry. I thought you knew."

The tears came fast and hot. Maya let them fall, tracking through her foundation. Elena squeezed her hand, hard and urgent, and Maya realized: this wasn't competition. This wasn't comparison. This was just friendship, messier and more necessary than any sport.

"Order some wine," Elena told the waiter. "And bring extra napkins."

The spinach finally fell from Elena's teeth. Maya cried harder, and for the first time in years, didn't wonder if she looked pathetic doing it.