The Last Serve

The resort cat — a mangy orange tabby with one ear permanently folded — watched from the edge of the infinity pool. Elena considered the irony: even the cat knew when to walk away.

Across the padel court, David's back glistened with sweat as he retrieved another ball. His new business partner, Sarah, laughed at something he said, her hand lingering on his arm a fraction too long. Elena sat on her lounger, untouched gin and tonic sweating onto the glass table, counting the ways her marriage had died without either of them noticing.

"She's got quite a swing," David called out, gesturing toward Sarah with his paddle. "You should take lessons, El."

The words hung in the humid air like cigar smoke. Elena had taught him tennis on their honeymoon. She'd been the athlete, the one with fire in her belly. Now she was just the wife who needed lessons.

The cat padded across the pool deck, stopping to drink from a puddle near her feet. It looked up, meeting her gaze with those yellow eyes that seemed to say: *You see it too.*

"Actually," Elena said, standing up, "I think I'm done being a student in my own life."

David's smile faltered. Sarah stopped mid-swing, the ball dropping forgotten at her feet.

"What's that supposed to mean?" David's voice carried that familiar edge — the one he'd started using in board meetings, with her, with everyone.

Elena walked to the pool's edge. "It means I'm checking out tomorrow. And you can keep the club membership."

She took off her wedding ring — gold band with a diamond she'd once loved — and dropped it into the water. It made a tiny splash, then sank without a trace. The cat blinked slowly, as if in approval.

"Elena, don't be dramatic," he said, but the cracks were showing. He looked at Sarah. He looked at the ring's ripple spreading across the pool's surface. He looked everywhere but at her.

The orange cat stretched and ambled toward the padel court, curled up in a patch of sunlight near the net, and began grooming itself. Something about the creature's casual certainty made everything clear.

"I'm not being dramatic," Elena said, already turning toward the hotel. "I'm just finally playing my own game."