The Palm Reader's Backhand

At 7 PM, most of the office had already evacuated. Sarah remained, staring at her spreadsheet like a zombie, eyes glazed over, fingers moving through motions she'd performed a thousand times. Her quarterly review was tomorrow. She should care. She used to care.

"You coming?" Marco leaned against her doorway, padel racket in hand. "Court's booked in twenty."

The Thursday padel league had become her tether to sanity, an hour where she didn't have to be anyone's mother, anyone's manager, anyone's problem. Just her body, moving, the satisfying crack of ball against wall.

"Let me grab my gear."

They were playing against the IT director and someone from Compliance. Sarah didn't remember her name. The game was tied at deuce when she found herself at the net, Marco's forehand slamming toward her.

She pivoted for a backhand volley and felt something sharp in her knee.

The world went quiet. She sank to the ground, clutching her joint, pain blooming.

The Compliance woman—Lena, she'd heard someone say—was beside her instantly. "Let me see."

"It's fine, just twisted—"

"Humor me."

Lena took Sarah's hand, turned it palm up, and pressed her thumb into the center. "This tendon." She moved to Sarah wrist. "And this." Her fingers traced the lines of Sarah's palm like she was reading something written there. "You carry all your stress in your hands."

Sarah looked at her properly for the first time. Lena had eyes the color of whiskey and a constellation of faint scars across her left cheekbone. Beautiful, in a way that required you to look twice.

"I'm a physical therapist," Lena said softly. "In another life, before I sold my soul to Compliance."

"Before you became a zombie too," Sarah said, and Lena laughed, a startled, genuine sound.

"Exactly."

They ended up at a bar nearby, leaving Marco and the IT director to finish their match. Sarah's knee throbbed dully. Lena traced the lifeline on Sarah's palm with one finger, not reading it—just touching.

"You're going to be okay," Lena said. "The knee. The review. All of it."

Sarah believed her, which was the terrifying part.

They left together at midnight, fingers laced, Sarah's palm pressed against Lena's like she might somehow absorb the certainty she'd been missing for years.