Split Decision

The lightning storm caught them on the padel court, sudden and violent, illuminating everything Marcos wished he could unsee. The way Elena moved—fluid, predatory—when she returned serves to him, versus the stiff, mechanical way she played against anyone else. He'd spent six months telling himself he was imagining it. That the vitamins she started taking were just vitamins. That the late-night cable TV watching was insomnia, not avoidance.

'You should go back to the hotel,' she said, rain plastering her hair to her face, making her look like a stranger. 'I'll finish the game with Javier.'

Javier, who'd appeared from nowhere three months ago. Javier, who now owned half of Elena's free time and somehow, inexplicably, half her padel matches. Javier, who was currently standing way too close under the overhang, hand resting on her back like he had a right to it.

'Marcos?' Elena's voice pulled him back. 'The pool, after? We can order room service, talk about us.'

He almost said yes. Almost pretended the lightning hadn't exposed everything—the secret glances, the practiced intimacy, the months of lies wrapped in daily multivitamins and meaningless cable shows they watched together without touching. But something in him had already left.

'There is no us,' Marcos said, and the words felt like electricity through his veins—terrifying, powerful, final. 'Not anymore.'

He walked away through the downpour, not bothering to shield himself, letting the storm wash away six years of marriage. Behind him, under the flickering court lights, he didn't look back. Some lightning strikes, he realized, don't just illuminate—they burn everything down.