Swimming in Circles

The kitchen smelled of wilting spinach and something else—something like regret. Maya stood at the stove, watching the greens collapse in the pan, her phone vibrating on the counter again. Another text from Richard about his padel match. He'd been spending more time at the club than at home lately, his racquet getting more attention than she had.

"You're overthinking it," Sarah had said over coffee yesterday, stirring her own drink with that maddening calm. "Men have hobbies. It's what they do."

But it wasn't just the padel. It was the way Richard moved through their apartment now like a ghost, his clothes migrating to the guest room, his side of the bed growing cold. It was the orange glow of streetlights filtering through their bedroom curtains at 3 AM when she couldn't sleep, listening to him breathe on the other side of the door.

The goldfish bowl sat on the windowsill, its single inhabitant circling endlessly in water that needed changing three days ago. She'd won it at a carnival five years ago, during that weekend when they'd still held hands in public, when Richard had still looked at her like she was the only thing worth seeing. The fish had outlasted their marriage by at least six months now.

"Maya?" Richard's voice from the doorway made her jump. "I thought we were eating at seven."

She turned off the stove. The spinach was ruined anyway, reduced to something slimy and unrecognizable. Much like them.

"I'm not hungry," she said, not looking at him. "There's leftovers in the fridge."

He hesitated. She could feel him behind her, the weight of all the things they weren't saying.

"The divorce papers came," he said quietly. "I signed them today."

Maya gripped the counter until her knuckles turned white. Outside, the sky was that bruised orange color of endings. In the fishbowl, the goldfish continued its endless circles, unaware it could swim to the other side if it just tried.

"I know," she said. "I served them yesterday."

She watched the fish swim, thinking how easy it must be to forget you can leave the bowl when you've spent so long swimming in circles you've convinced yourself the whole world is just glass and water.