The Last Match

The iphone buzzed against the bench—again. Elena didn't look. She knew it was him, or maybe it wasn't. That was the problem with Marcos. He was a sphinx wrapped in charm, presenting riddles she couldn't solve and secrets she'd stopped trying to unravel.

"Your serve," Marcos called from across the padel court. His voice carried that practiced warmth that had drawn her in three years ago—the warmth that now felt like performance.

Elena gripped her racket. The blue surface of the court blurred. "You always said that. Your serve. Like everything was yours to give."

"It's just a game, Elena."

"Is it?" She laughed, a harsh sound in the empty court. They'd booked this slot every Tuesday for eighteen months. Now their rental time was running out, just like everything else.

Her phone lit up. A notification: *Where are you? We need to talk.* Not Marcos. Someone else. Someone who didn't speak in riddles.

"You're going to pick it up, aren't you?" Marcos stood at the net, sweat darkening his shirt. For once, his expression was unguarded. Real.

"Does it matter?"

"It matters to me."

"Why?" She stepped closer to the net. "So you can decode it? So you can tell me what it really means?"

Marcos's jaw tightened. "I never lied to you."

"No. You just never told me the truth." Elena thought of all those conversations that circled and doubled back, everything and nothing said. Like the sphinx's riddles—answer wrong, and you died. Answer right, and what? You got to live another day with someone who'd always be half mystery.

The iphone buzzed again. This time she looked. *I'm outside. *

"I'm done solving puzzles, Marcos. I want answers. I want someone who doesn't make me guess what they're feeling."

"That's not fair."

"Fair?" Elena set down her racket. "You left me clues instead of a map. Then blamed me when I got lost."

She walked to the bench, picked up her phone, and typed: *Coming. *

Marcos watched her go. There was something like recognition in his eyes—the sphinx finally understood that some riddles aren't meant to be solved. They're meant to be left behind.

Elena pushed through the court gates without looking back. Some games, you don't finish. You just walk away while you still can.