The Drop Shot

The glass walls of the padel court amplified every sound — the sharp smack of the ball against the racket, Maria's controlled breathing, my own thudding heart. We'd played every Thursday for three years, through promotions and divorces, through the way she always knew which projects I was pitching before I presented them.

'Your backhand's getting tight,' Maria called from across the court, wiping sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. 'Nervous about the Johnson acquisition?'

The ball hit the mesh fence behind me. I didn't turn to retrieve it.

'I saw your emails,' I said.

Maria's racket dipped half an inch. The silence between us grew louder than the traffic outside.

'Julia—'

'Corporate spy,' I said, the words tasting like bile. 'All those coffees, all those late nights. You were mining me for competitive intelligence.' I laughed bitterly. 'God, I even told you about my mother's cancer. Was that data collection too?'

She stepped to the net, her face collapsing into something like grief. 'It started that way. But you have to believe me— somewhere around year two, you became my actual friend. The reports became shorter. The meetings became real.' Her voice cracked. 'I put in my resignation this morning.'

A ball rolled onto our court from the next one over. Neither of us moved to kick it back.

'Why tell me now?' I asked.

'Because I'm done lying to you.' Maria set her racket against the glass wall. 'And because your Johnson acquisition is going to fail whether I report it or not. Their due diligence is already showing holes.' She looked at me with those devastatingly honest eyes. 'I can help you fix it. Or I can walk away and let it collapse. Your choice.'

I watched a drop of condensation slide down the glass wall, tracing a path like tear tracks. The old betrayal still stung, fresh and raw. But the person standing before me wasn't the spy who'd infiltrated my life anymore.

I picked up my racket.

'Same time next Thursday?' I asked.

Maria's smile was tentative, fragile. 'I'll bring the balls.'