The Padel Court at Sunset

The vitamin supplements sat untouched on her nightstand for the third consecutive morning. Elena stared at them, then at her iphone, its screen lighting up with another Slack notification from David. She swiped it away, the motion practiced, automatic.

She met Marcus at the padel club exactly as they'd done every Tuesday for six months. The court was empty except for them, the glass walls reflecting the amber light of setting sun. They played in silence for the first set, the rhythmic thwack of the ball against the racket their only conversation.

"You're not sleeping," Marcus said during a water break, not a question.

Elena wiped her palm against her skirt, leaving a dark streak of sweat on the fabric. "The merger talks escalated. David's being—" she paused, searching for the right word, "—a fox about the whole thing."

"Cunning?" Marcus offered, spinning his racket.

"Worse. Devious. He's positioning himself to walk away with everything while the rest of us drown."

They resumed playing, but Elena's focus had shattered. She thought about the vitamins she'd been prescribed after her last panic attack at work. How the doctor had told her that sometimes what looks like burnout is actually your body demanding you stop lying to yourself.

The ball hit the glass wall and bounced back, catching her off guard. Marcus reached for it instinctively, his palm brushing hers as their hands collided over the handle.

For a moment, everything stopped. The sun had slipped below the horizon now, leaving only the artificial glow of the court lights. They stood there, hands touching, breathing hard, and Elena felt something crack open inside her chest.

"I could help you," Marcus said quietly. "With the situation. With David."

"How?"

"I know people. And"—he smiled, just slightly—"I'm tired of watching you self-destruct from the sidelines."

That night, Elena took the vitamins. She deleted three of David's messages without reading them. She thought about Marcus's offer, about the weight of his hand on hers, about how it felt like something solid in a world that had become increasingly transparent as glass walls and empty promises.

Her iphone buzzed on the nightstand. She let it ring.