The Last Day in Bali

Mara stood at the edge of the infinity pool, the water lapping against the tile like a whisper she couldn't quite hear. Beyond it, the ocean stretched toward a horizon the color of a bruised peach—orange and violet bleeding into each other as the sun died its daily death. This was supposed to be their honeymoon. Instead, she was alone in Bali, watching the palm fronds sway in the evening breeze, each leaf a finger pointing at what she'd lost.

Three days ago, she'd caught him. Not with another woman—she almost wished she had. No, David had been sitting on this very balcony at midnight, the blue light of his phone illuminating his face like a digital ghost. He'd been typing furiously, and when she'd emerged from their villa, he'd jumped. A spy's reaction. That was when she knew.

She'd spent the past seventy-two hours swimming through possibilities. Was he cheating? Was he in debt? Was he married to someone else? The uncertainty was a riptide pulling her under. She'd ordered room service that morning—papaya, lime, coconut—and eaten it on the bed they were supposed to share, juice running down her chin, salt tears mixing with sweet fruit.

Now she checked her phone one last time. The private investigator she'd hired back home had confirmed what she already knew: David didn't exist. Not really. The man she'd married, the man she'd given three years of her life to, was someone else entirely. False name. False past. False everything.

She slipped into the pool. The water was warm, like bathwater, like the sheets they'd shared. She floated on her back, staring up at the first stars appearing in the darkening sky. The palm trees lining the property were silhouettes against the deepening blue, their trunks curved like question marks she no longer needed answered.

Her phone vibrated on the patio chair. David. Calling for the twelfth time today. She let it ring, watching the screen pulse in the darkness like a weak heartbeat. Then, deliberately, she reached out and pressed decline. blocked. The water cradled her, weightless, and for the first time in three years, so was she.