The Charging Cable

The iPhone screen glowed at 2% as Elena sat on the edge of the bed, Marcus's back turned to her. The baseball game droned from the television—Yankees vs. Red Sox, bottom of the ninth. Their anniversary dinner had been silent, heavy with everything unsaid.

She scrolled through photos from three years ago: Marcus holding her hand at a spring training game, both of them sun-drunk and foolish with new love. Now his phone facedown on the nightstand, hers dying in her hand.

"You're doing it again," he said, not turning around.

"Doing what?"

"Living somewhere else. Through that screen."

"I'm not—" The phone flashed its final warning before going dark.

The sudden blackness felt like waking. She set it on the nightstand, reached for the charging cable, but her hand stopped. The white cord lay coiled like a snake, its end frayed where Marcus had chewed it during law school exams. She remembered him studying at this very desk, muttering about torts, teeth marks in the cable like tiny scars.

On television, the batter connected. The crowd roared. Marcus had taken her to Fenway for their first date, explained baseball's architecture, how the game moved in its own time, couldn't be rushed.

"We used to watch together," she said softly.

He turned then, eyes red-rimmed. "We used to do everything together."

The cable sat between them like an accusation. She could plug in, retreat to the infinite scroll, or stay in this uncomfortable, necessary silence.

"The baby's due in June," she said. "We haven't spoken a real word to each other since the ultrasound."

Marcus's shoulders dropped. "I thought you didn't want me there. You seemed so... distant."

"I was scared." She picked up the frayed cable, ran her thumb over the bite marks. "You chewed this because you were anxious about exams. You told me once it helped you think."

"I haven't done that in years."

"I know." She set it down carefully. "But I remember."

Outside, April rain tapped against the window. The game went to commercial. In the quiet, Marcus reached for her hand across the space between them—small, tentative, like a first date all over again.

"I'm terrified too," he said.

The iPhone remained dark on the nightstand. The baseball game faded to background noise. Elena squeezed his hand, feeling the pulse point at his wrist, steady and alive. "We don't have to figure it out tonight."

"No," he said, pulling her closer. "But we have to start somewhere."

The frayed cable lay forgotten between them, no longer charging anything, just waiting—like they were—to be made whole again.