The Art of Drowning

The restaurant was dimly lit, the kind of place where people went to confess sins or end marriages. Elena sat across from Sarah, her oldest friend, watching the candlelight dance on the **water** in their wine glasses. They'd known each other since college, had shared apartments and lovers and secrets. But tonight, something felt off.

"You've been quiet," Sarah said, spearing a piece of **spinach** from her salad. The leafy green hung precariously from her fork, dark and glistening with dressing. "Everything okay with Mark?"

Elena's stomach tightened. Three days ago, she'd found the folder on Mark's laptop — hundreds of photos, emails, call logs. Her husband, it turned out, wasn't just traveling for business. He was a corporate **spy**, selling trade secrets to competitors. And Sarah, sitting there with that concerned expression, worked for the company Mark had been targeting.

"Mark's fine," Elena said, her voice barely steady. She took a sip of wine, the red liquid coating her throat like blood. "Actually, I wanted to ask you something."

Sarah's fork paused mid-air. The spinach fell back onto her plate.

"How long have you known?" Elena asked.

Sarah's face didn't change, but something flickered behind her eyes — fear, or maybe recognition. "Known what?"

"Don't." Elena reached across the table and grabbed Sarah's wrist. Her pulse hammered against Elena's fingers. "I found the emails, Sarah. The ones between you and Mark. You weren't just sleeping with him. You were paying him."

The restaurant noise seemed to fade. Somewhere, a glass shattered.

"Elena—"

"How much did my company's secrets cost?" Elena's voice rose. Other patrons were turning now. "Was it worth it? Was it worth fifteen years of friendship?"

Sarah pulled her wrist free, her face finally crumbling. "It wasn't supposed to be like this. I swear, Elena, Mark said you two were already separated, that he was leaving—"

"Liar." Elena stood, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. "You knew. You knew everything."

She walked out without paying, leaving Sarah sitting alone with her spinach and wine and lies. Outside, the rain had started. Elena tilted her face to the sky, letting the water wash over her, and for the first time in months, she felt clean.