The Morning After

Elena left the vitamin bottle on the counter—D3, with the childproof cap already twisted off. That's how Marcus knew she wasn't coming back. Not because she packed her bags. Not because she changed her passwords. Because she forgot something she'd been religious about for seven years.

His phone buzzed. Henderson, his boss, already bullish about the quarterly numbers before 7 AM. "Market's responding to the pivot, Marcus. We need you at the padel court at noon. Client entertainment. Don't be late."

Marcus stared at himself in the bathroom mirror. Thirty-eight and running on caffeine and residual momentum. The dog, Buster, scratched at the door, ready for his morning ritual. They'd got him together, back when they still made decisions as a unit. Now Buster was Marcus's sole reminder of the life he'd built with someone who no longer wanted to live inside it.

"You're the only one who still needs me, aren't you?" Marcus said, scratching behind the dog's ears. Buster's tail thumped against the tile floor, oblivious to the existential crisis unfolding above him.

The padel match was a blur of backhanded shots and forced laughter. Henderson's clients—two tech founders with more money than sense—talked about disrupting the wellness industry while Marcus chased down balls he didn't care about. His knee twinged. He'd been ignoring the pain for months, telling himself it was just age, just wear and tear, just the price of staying relevant in a world that chewed you up and spit you out if you slowed down.

"You're quiet today," Henderson said afterward, over drinks that Marcus didn't want.

"Just tired."

"We're all tired, Marcus. That's why we take the vitamins. That's why we play the game. You don't stop playing because you're tired."

Marcus watched a bull in a poster above the bar—charging, relentless, impervious to consequences. He thought about Elena, about how she'd said "I can't watch you disappear into yourself anymore" with the same calm certainty she'd used to pick their wedding venue. She hadn't been angry. She'd been done.

He came home to an empty house. The vitamin bottle still sat on the counter. Marcus picked it up, twisted the cap back on, and put it in the trash. Buster waited by the door, tail still wagging, still believing in routine, still believing in Marcus.

Some things, Marcus realized, were harder to quit than others.