The Last Goodbye in Barbados

The plane ticket on the nightstand felt like a verdict. Elena traced it with her thumb, the paper edge catching against her skin. Tomorrow she'd leave this island, leave Marcus, leave the version of herself that had believed they could survive what happened.

Outside, the palm fronds rustled in the wind—a sound that had become the soundtrack to their unraveling. Six days ago, she'd arrived with hope packed beside her sundresses. Now, hope was just another thing she'd discard at customs.

Marcus stirred beside her, his breathing still even in sleep. She'd taken her vitamin D supplement religiously every morning of this trip, some desperate attempt to stave off the gray that had settled in her bones. But no pill could fix what was broken between them.

She'd learned about the fox two days ago—his assistant, Sienna, with her sharp smiles and late-night texts. That's what he called her in his secret iphone notes, the ones Elena found when his phone died and she tried to charge it for him. "Clever fox," he'd written. "Makes me feel alive again."

The words had carved something hollow inside her chest.

Elena slipped out of bed, the humidity instantly clinging to her skin. She walked to the balcony where the ocean stretched dark and endless. Earlier, she'd gone swimming, trying to outrun her own thoughts, diving beneath the waves until her lungs burned. But you can't drown out betrayal, not even in the Caribbean Sea.

"Couldn't sleep?" Marcus's voice came from behind her.

She didn't turn. "Just thinking."

"About us?"

"About who we were. Before."

His silence stretched. "I never meant to hurt you, El."

The thing about foxes: they're beautiful creatures, but they survive because they're ruthless. Marcus had always been charming—she'd fallen for that smile twelve years ago. But charm without substance was just performance.

"I know," she said softly. "That's the sad part. You didn't mean to. You just didn't mean not to, either."

She turned finally. His iphone sat on the table between them, a dark mirror reflecting three people's wreckage. Tomorrow, she'd board a plane alone. But for the first time in six days, she felt something like certainty.

"I'm going for a swim," she said. "Alone this time."

The ocean would be cold, dark, indifferent. But at least it wouldn't lie to her. At least it would be real.