The Color of Goodbye

The sunset burned orange across the padel court as Marco watched Elena play, her movements fluid and confident, everything he'd fallen in love with three years ago. He stood in the shadows, his iphone heavy in his pocket, the unread messages from her weighing more than the device itself.

'Elena!' he called as she walked off the court, sweating and glowing.

She froze. The smile died on her lips.

'You came,' she said, wiping her forehead with a towel that matched the orange of the dying light.

'I saw the messages,' Marco said. 'On your ipad, when you left it open last night. You're leaving me for him.'

The silence stretched between them like a rubber band ready to snap.

'Padel was supposed to be our thing,' Marco continued, his voice cracking. 'You started taking lessons with him, and now...'

Elena stepped closer, her expression unreadable. 'The lessons were for myself, Marco. Not for him. Not for anyone else.'

'Then what—'

'I'm dying, Marco.' She said it so simply, as if commenting on the weather.

The orange light seemed to flicker. 'What?'

'Pancreatic cancer. Three months, maybe four. I took the padel lessons because I wanted to feel alive again before...' She gestured helplessly at nothing.

Marco's iphone buzzed in his pocket. Another message he wouldn't read.

'Why didn't you tell me?'

'I couldn't watch you mourn me while I was still here. I needed you to hate me instead. It would be easier for you.'

Marco stepped forward and took her hands, the same hands that had gripped the padel racquet with such determination minutes ago.

'I don't want easy,' he said. 'I want you. However much time is left.'

Elena's eyes filled with tears. 'Even when it gets ugly?'

'Especially then.'

As they embraced beneath the orange sky, Marco's iphone continued to buzz with messages—friends, work, the relentless world—but for the first time in his life, he had something more important than any of it.