Still Water Runs Deep

The bar glasses sweated onto the mahogany table, condensation pooling like Maya's anxiety. She hadn't seen Elena in three years—not since the corporate espionage investigation that had half their department fired. Elena had survived. Maya had been collateral damage.

"You look good, Maya," Elena said, swirling her mineral water. The ice clinked, a brittle sound.

"So do you." Maya's phone buzzed in her pocket. She ignored it.

Elena's iPhone sat face-up on the table between them, screen lighting up with notifications. Maya watched Elena's eyes flick toward it, again and again. A compulsion.

"I'm not supposed to be meeting you," Elena admitted, voice low. "There's an ongoing investigation. They think someone's leaking to competitors."

"And they suspect you."

"They suspect everyone." Elena's fingers traced the rim of her glass. "That's why they installed the monitoring software. On company devices. Personal ones too, if you connect to their network."

Maya's stomach tightened. "You told me to connect my phone that day. The lunch before the audit."

"I was your friend. I am your friend." But Elena wouldn't meet her eyes.

The water in Maya's glass trembled. Her hand, she realized. Her hand was shaking.

"You were the spy," Maya said, the words finally finding shape. "All those coffees, those 'accidental' meetings. You weren't just being friendly."

"It wasn't like that—"

"What was it like?" They were in public, surrounded by laughing couples and the clatter of dishes, but Maya felt stripped bare. "Did you read my emails? My texts? God, Elena. We talked about everything."

"Only work-related communications," Elena said, but her voice cracked. "And look, they fired you anyway. My reports... they actually showed you were innocent. I tried to help."

"You tried to help by spying on me."

"By protecting you." Elena reached for her iPhone, then stopped. "You want the truth? They would have destroyed you, Maya. I gave them enough to satisfy them, and I left out the parts that would have implicated you in something bigger. You think you lost your job? You could have lost everything."

The server refilled Maya's water glass. The ice settled with a soft plink.

Maya looked at her friend—really looked at her. The exhaustion around her eyes, the way she picked at her cuticles, the surveillance-state paranoia that had become her life. Elena was drowning too.

"Are you still working for them?" Maya asked.

"Until I find something else." Elena's phone lit up again. She didn't look. "They own me now, Maya. They own everything."

Maya drank her water in one long swallow. It was cold, clean, honest. "Then find something else. Tonight. Pack a bag, leave your phone, get on a train."

"I can't just—"

"You're my friend, Elena. Even after all this." Maya stood up. "But I won't watch you destroy yourself. Not again."