The Padel Court at Sunset

Mia wiped sweat from her forehead as she walked off the padel court, her legs trembling in that particular way that felt both exhaustion and victory. At forty-two, she'd taken up the sport partly for fitness, partly because her therapist suggested she needed something that wasn't work. The glass walls of the court caught the dying sunlight, creating a pyramid of amber glow that made everything look cinematic, like her life might finally be worth watching.

'Still playing like you're trying to prove something,' said a voice behind her. She turned to find Lucas, her ex-husband, holding a racket he'd probably bought with some portion of their settlement.

'Still showing up places you're not wanted,' she replied, but there was no venom in it. Three years had distilled their bitterness into something that almost resembled affection.

He shrugged. 'Our dog died last week.'

Mia's chest tightened. Barnaby had been the one good thing they'd made together—a golden retriever who'd greeted her with the same enthusiasm whether she'd been gone five minutes or five hours. 'I'm sorry, Luke.'

'I buried him in the backyard. Under that old oak tree. Remember how he'd chase your cat up the trunk?'

She remembered. Nyx, the black cat she'd brought into their marriage, had despised Barnaby with an intensity that Mia had secretly admired. The cat now lived with Mia's sister, having outlasted their marriage by six months.

'The house feels empty without him,' Lucas continued. 'I've been thinking...'

'Don't,' Mia said sharply. Then softer: 'Don't do that thing where you rewrite history. We tried. It didn't work.'

'I wasn't going to say—'

'You always want what you can't have. That's your thing. It's why you wanted me when I was focused on my career, and why you want me now that I'm finally happy without you.' She shouldered her gear bag, the pyramid of the clubhouse looming behind her like some ancient monument to the games people play.

'I'm not happy without you,' he said, and the vulnerability in his voice nearly broke her resolve.

Mia looked at him—really looked—at the crow's feet around his eyes, the way his hair had started thinning at the temples, the earnestness that had once charmed her and now just seemed exhausting. She remembered how she'd built her life around his expectations, how she'd climbed the corporate pyramid he'd admired while secretly wanting something simpler. How she'd finally left not because she stopped loving him, but because she'd started forgetting who she was.

'I'm sorry about Barnaby,' she said again. 'But I adopted another cat. Her name's Cleo. She doesn't like anyone, and I love that about her.'

Lucas laughed, a short, surprised sound. 'Of course you did.'

Mia walked to her car, and this time she didn't look back.