The Score We Keep

The orange slices sat sweating on the bench between them, their citrus scent cutting through the humidity of the indoor padel court. Elena watched David's hand tremble as he reached for one—same hand that had held hers through two miscarriages, a bankruptcy, and fifteen years of something that used to feel like love.

"Your serve," she said, her voice flat. She wasn't keeping score anymore. Not in the game, not in life.

David missed the ball entirely. It hit the glass wall behind her with a hollow thud. "I'm sorry," he said, and she couldn't tell if he meant the serve or the affair she'd discovered three weeks ago—the one he'd sworn was "just emotional." The texts had been physical enough.

"You've been running from this conversation for months," Elena said, stepping forward. The court suddenly felt too small, too contained. Like their marriage. Like the life they'd built in that three-bedroom colonial with the white picket fence and the mortgage that felt like a noose.

"I'm not running." But his eyes said otherwise. They'd always said otherwise. He'd been running since the day they met—running toward promotions, running from conflict, running through life at a sprint that left her perpetually chasing his shadow.

Elena laughed, and the sound surprised her. Sharp. Bitter. "You're still running, David. Even now, standing in this stupid court playing padel because your therapist suggested we find a 'shared activity'—you're still not here."

The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. Somewhere beyond the glass walls, real life continued. People were falling in love, falling out of it, paying bills, dying. And here they were, two people who'd once promised forever, reduced to hitting a ball against walls and calling it connection.

"What do you want me to say?" His voice cracked.

"Nothing." She picked up her bag. "I want you to say nothing. I want you to stop running long enough to feel what you've done." She paused at the door. "The orange slices are yours, by the way. They were always your favorite."