The Last Sunday in Malaga

Elena balanced her vitamin D supplement on the balcony railing, watching Marco stretch his hamstrings below by the padel court. His movements were precise, athletic—the same way he did everything now. Measured. Controlled.

"Coming?" he called up, not quite looking at her.

The wind rustled the palm fronds overhead, casting dancing shadows across her bare feet. In three days, this apartment—this view, this life—would belong to someone else. Their divorce had been as amicable as these things ever were, which meant it still left hollows in her chest where laughter used to be.

Their cat, Bodega, wound between her legs, purring loudly. The only creature who didn't seem to notice they were living through an ending.

"Just a minute," she said. But she didn't move.

They'd played padel every Sunday morning for seven years. It was supposed to be this morning too, a final friendly match before she moved back to Barcelona. But the truth was, she'd been playing padel with a zombie for months. Not literally—Marco was very much alive, very fit, very successful now. But somewhere between the startup taking off and the weekends growing shorter, the man she'd fallen in love with had been replaced by someone who asked how her day was and then checked his watch before she could answer.

She picked up the vitamin, considered it. This was her third bottle since she'd started taking them to cope with the gray feeling that had settled over her like fog. The doctor said it was just winter, just stress. Just life.

Marco walked up the stairs, sweat already glistening on his forehead. He looked at the cat, then at the supplement in her hand, then finally at her eyes.

"You're not going to play," he said. It wasn't a question.

"No."

He nodded, almost relieved. "I didn't think so."

"Marco?" she asked, something tightening in her throat. "When did you stop loving me?"

He rubbed the back of his neck, a gesture so familiar it made something in her chest crack. "I don't know that I ever stopped," he said quietly. "I think I just forgot how to show it."

The cat jumped onto the railing and knocked the vitamin pill over the edge. It bounced once on the pavement and rolled away under a bougainvillea.

They watched it go.

"Well," Elena said, forcing something like a smile. "That's that."

"Yeah," Marco said. "That's that."

They stood together on the balcony, the palm whispering above them, not touching but not moving away, letting themselves mourn what they'd lost while somewhere below, a game they wouldn't play waited on a court they wouldn't step onto again.