The Last Vitamin

Maria stood in the kitchen, peeling the papaya with surgical precision. The fluorescent light caught the silver in her hair—she hadn't dyed it since David left three months ago. On the counter, a bottle of vitamin supplements sat untouched, a gift from her sister who kept saying things like 'self-care' and 'new chapter' as if forty-five was a death sentence rather than a birthday.

'You coming?' Daniel called from the hallway. He held two padel racquets like weapons, his optimism exhausting.

'I hate padel,' she said, but she followed him anyway.

The court smelled of rubber and desperation. Daniel served with the enthusiasm of a man who still believed in momentum, in forward motion, in the fiction that everything could be solved with enough effort. Maria's back had been hurting for weeks. Her left knee clicked when she pivoted. Her body was becoming a stranger, each new ache a reminder of mortality she'd spent half a lifetime ignoring.

'You're thinking about him again,' Daniel said between points. It wasn't a question.

'The bull market collapsed, Daniel. Our portfolio's worthless. David's gone. And you want to play padel.'

She didn't tell him the rest—that she'd been buying spinach every Tuesday, standing in the produce section until her hands stopped shaking, that the green leaves in her refrigerator were rotting one by one, that she couldn't remember the last time she'd actually eaten anything.

'Your serve,' Daniel said, and she realized she'd been standing there for thirty seconds, racquet dangling.

A papaya farmer's daughter, now watching her retirement evaporate while playing a sport invented by people who'd never known real hunger. The absurdity of it caught in her throat. She served anyway, the ball hitting the net.

Daniel didn't say 'good try.' He didn't say anything at all. Just stood there watching her with those terrible patient eyes, like he was waiting for something to break.

Later, over wine that was too expensive for their new budget, they'd talk about vitamins and mutual funds and whether the padel club membership was worth keeping. She would lie and say she was feeling better. He would know she was lying.

For now, the ball rolled to a stop at her feet.