Suspension

The cable car swayed over the Mediterranean, Elena's reflection ghosting across the glass. She shouldn't have come. The invitation had arrived like all of Marcus's gestures—expensive, thoughtless, assuming she'd be impressed.

"You're quiet," he said, adjusting his watch. "I booked us a padel court for noon."

"Marcus, we need to talk about—the emails. His assistant."

He laughed, the sound hollow in the suspended carriage. "Always so serious, El. That's why I love you. But you're too intense. You need to loosen up."

Below them, the water bruised against cliffs. She thought of last month, when she'd found the hotel receipt, the way he'd looked at her—apologetic, annoyed, like a child caught stealing candy. Not sorry. Just inconvenienced.

"It's not just intensity," she said quietly. "It's that I've been bearing something for three years that's gotten too heavy."

The cable car docked with a jolt. A red fox darted across their path, pausing to study them with amber eyes before slipping into scrub brush. Something wild and untethered. Something that knew when to leave.

They played padel in silence. Marcus's competitive edge surfaced immediately—smashing the ball, grunting with effort, pretending this was just another game he could win through sheer force. Elena let shots pass. She watched the ball hit the screen and roll away.

"You're not even trying," he said, sweat on his forehead, chest heaving.

"No," she agreed. "I'm not."

She walked to the edge of the court. The ocean stretched endlessly, indifferent and blue. She thought about how she'd become someone who tolerated small degradations, how love had calcified into habit, how fear of starting over had kept her frozen.

"Marcus," she said without turning. "I'm not coming back."

"What? Don't be dramatic. We have dinner reservations."

She faced him. "This isn't working. Maybe it never did. I think I've been in love with the possibility of you, not who you actually are."

The fox reappeared at the treeline, watching them. Above, the cable car began its descent without them.

"You can't just—" Marcus started, then stopped. For the first time, he looked unsure. "What do you want me to say?"

"Nothing," Elena said. "I just want you to hear me."

She walked toward the path that would lead down to the water, not looking back at the court or the man standing there with his racquet raised, frozen in the middle of a game he'd already lost.