Surveillance

Elena's red hair spilled across her pillow like a warning she couldn't take back. At 3 AM, she pressed her phone against her chest, the screen glowing with the spy software she'd installed on David's phone two weeks ago. She hated herself more with each notification.

The pool was empty at this hour, its surface still and perfect—a mirror that wouldn't lie to her. She sat on the edge, legs in the water, remembering how David had proposed here, how they'd laughed while teaching their daughter to swim, how the future had felt inevitable then.

Now she knew he was at the padel club with Sara from accounting. Their messages had been innocent at first. Work things. Then inside jokes. Then "I can't stop thinking about you."

Elena's father had given his baseball glove to David the day they found out she was pregnant. "Protect her," he'd said, shaking David's hand like it was a contract. David still had that glove. Elena had seen it in his closet last week, gathering dust beside the expensive padel racket Sara had given him for his birthday.

The water rippled as she slid deeper in, fully clothed. She hadn't played tennis since college. David was the athlete now—weekend warrior, sauna regular, someone who belonged in bodies that moved toward pleasure without consequence.

She surfaced, gasping. The phone buzzed on the pool deck. A message from David: "Can't sleep. Thinking of you."

Elena pulled herself from the water, her heavy clothes dragging at her, and didn't pick up the phone. Let him wonder. Let him feel it—the space between them growing, a pool he'd have to cross if he wanted to reach her again. She squeezed water from her hair and walked toward the locker room, finally ready to be seen.