The Last Resort

The corporate retreat's infinity pool glittered like a promise Elena couldn't keep. She drifted through the weekend like a zombie—since David left, everything felt like performing emotions she'd forgotten how to feel. That's what led her here: singles weekend at a luxury resort, desperate to remember who she was before she became someone's wife.

"You're that woman from accounting," someone said. Elena turned to find Marcus, the company's golden boy, watching her with unsettling intensity. His eyes held something predatory, fox-like. "The one who almost cried in the elevator last Tuesday."

The bluntness startled a laugh out of her. "And you're the VP who's been dead inside since your divorce. The whole office talks about it."

Marcus's smile was slow, genuine. "Fair." He gestured toward the padel court below. "Play? I promise not to go easy on you just because you're having a midlife crisis."

They played until sunset, her competitive spirit reawakening with every volley. Afterward, they ended up back at the pool, shoulders touching as they dangled their legs in the water. The hotel's ornamental goldfish—orange flashes in the blue—darted around their ankles like tiny, brave thoughts.

"I keep thinking about getting back together with him," Elena admitted. "Isn't that pathetic?"

Marcus looked at the water. "My ex asked to meet for coffee tomorrow. I said yes."

They sat in silence, two zombies learning to hunger again.

"We're going to do it, aren't we?" Elena said. "Go crawling back."

"Probably." Marcus stood, water dripping from his tailored pants. "But maybe first, we could get dinner. Not as reconciliation practice. Just as two people who don't want to be ghosts yet."

The pool lights flickered on. "Tomorrow," she said, "we can be disappointing. Tonight, let's just be here."

Marcus offered his hand. His palm was warm, his grip sure. Elena thought: maybe resurrection wasn't about returning to life as it was. Maybe it was about daring to live differently. She took it.