The Padel Court at Sunset

Mark stood at the edge of the padel court, nursing a gin and tonic that had gone warm in the humidity. The corporate retreat had been Elena's idea—something about team building, about them being "that couple" at the company holiday party. Now she was on the court, laughing at something Richard said, her back to Mark. He knew that laugh intimately—the slight tilt of her head, the way her hand found Richard's arm like it belonged there.

He clutched his hat, the expensive Panama she'd given him last anniversary, twisting the brim until it surrendered under his thumb. The Panama hat she'd picked out herself, saying it made him look distinguished. Now it felt like a prop.

His iPhone vibrated in his pocket—again. The third message in ten minutes. He didn't need to look. HR had been calling since yesterday afternoon, asking about the expense reports, about the "irregularities" Richard had somehow overlooked until now. Until Mark had pointed them out.

The padel ball skittered across the court. Richard's palm rested on Elena's lower back, lingering there, casual as anything. Like he'd done it a hundred times before.

Mark's chest hollowed out. He set the glass on a nearby table and walked toward the pool. Later, he'd swim until his limbs burned, until the water washed away everything—Richard's hand on her back, the iPhone vibrating in his pocket, the hat in his hand, the memory of her laugh. But for now, he just watched, and waited, and let the gin settle sour in his stomach.