Still Waters

The infinity pool at the Marriott Cairo mirrored a sky bruised purple by sunset, but Elena couldn't look away from the **water**'s surface without seeing her own fractured reflection—thirty-eight, successful, and utterly alone in paradise. Marcus had left two hours ago for an 'urgent conference call,' his third since they'd arrived yesterday morning for what was supposed to be their second honeymoon.

'Room service, ma'am.' The voice jarred her. She'd forgotten she'd ordered wine.

The server set down the bottle and pointed toward the desert. 'If you stay out here after dark, the **pyramid** tours will light up. Quite spectacular from this distance.' He paused. 'Your husband still in the room?'

'Working.' She tipped him generously.

By midnight, Marcus still hadn't emerged. Elena sat on their balcony, nursing the last of the wine, watching distant spotlights sweep across the Great **Sphinx**. The ancient creature seemed to mock her—stoic, silent, bearing the weight of impossible expectations across millennia. At least it had the excuse of being carved from stone.

Something moved in the shadows below. A stray **cat**, lean and battle-scarred, padded along the **pool**'s edge. It stopped to drink, then looked up directly at her, eyes glowing like amber warnings. Then it turned and vanished into the dark.

That's when she knew.

She went inside. Marcus was asleep, phone dark on his chest. She picked it up—sixteen missed calls from someone named 'S' that started before they'd even left New York. The last message, sent an hour ago: 'miss u already can't wait 2 see u again.'

The **water** in the bathroom mirror showed her a woman who'd been drowning for months, only now surfacing for air. She packed in silence, leaving her ring on the nightstand beside his phone.

At the front desk, she booked a single room at a different hotel. The clerk raised an eyebrow.

'Marriage trouble?' he asked.

'No,' Elena said, and the word felt true. 'Just finally waking up.'

Outside, the **cat** from earlier sat watching from atop the resort wall. As her taxi pulled away, it dipped its head once—a benediction, perhaps, or simply the acknowledgment of one survivor to another.