The Last Supper at Casa Verde

The bull statue in the courtyard — charging, bronze, eternal — seemed to mock her from across the table. Elena swirled the mineral water in her glass, watching the condensation weep down the sides like she'd been doing for the past hour.

"You're not listening," Marcus said, cutting into his spinach risotto with surgical precision. "This is the opportunity we've been working toward."

"I heard you," she said. "New York. VP. Corner office. You said it five times already."

Beneath the table, something warm pressed against her ankle. The restaurant's dog — a golden retriever with gray at the muzzle — had made his rounds and chosen her. She dropped her hand to palm his head, the coarse fur grounding her in a way Marcus's words couldn't.

"Then why won't you answer?" Marcus's knife clinked against the plate. "We can't live in this limbo forever."

Elena looked up. The palm fronds overhead rustled in the evening breeze, casting dancing shadows across his face — the face she'd woken up beside for seven years, the one she couldn't read anymore.

"What if I don't want to leave?" she said quietly. "What if I'm happy here?"

Marcus laughed, short and sharp. "Happy? Teaching cooking classes to tourists? Elena, you're wasted on this island."

The dog whined and rested his chin on her sandal. She thought about the cassoulet she'd simmer that morning, the way her students' eyes lit up when they nailed the roux, the satisfaction that had nothing to do with corporate ladders or quarterly projections.

"You think it's small," she said. "I think it's enough."

The silence stretched between them, filled only by distant waves and the dog's rhythmic breathing. Marcus stood up, throwing his napkin on the table.

"Fine," he said, his voice tight. "Stay with your cooking classes and your stray dogs. But don't expect me to wait forever."

Elena watched him walk away, his figure swallowed by the darkness beyond the courtyard. The bull statue seemed to sneer. She finished her water, then bent down to scratch the dog's ears.

"He was right about one thing," she whispered to the animal. "It is time to decide."

She just had. She ordered another glass of water and asked for the menu. Tomorrow she'd find her own place. For tonight, she was exactly where she needed to be.