The Service Break

The padel court echoed with rhythmic thwacking, the sound of boundaries being tested and crossed. Marcus watched Elena from across the net, her ponytail swinging with each serve, hair plastered to her neck in the brutal afternoon heat. They hadn't spoken in two days, not since the argument about his new promotion, about the late nights at the office that had become his new normal.

"Your phone's buzzing," Elena said between points, nodding toward his bag where his iPhone vibrated against the concrete bench. "Again."

"Work," Marcus said, though they both knew it could wait.

He'd started taking vitamin D supplements recently—the doctor said his levels were critically low, ironic for someone living in California. But sunlight didn't help when you left for work before dawn and returned after dark. Elena had stopped asking about his day three months ago. Now she just moved through their apartment like a ghost, her presence marked by half-empty coffee mugs and the scent of her shampoo in the bathroom.

The game ended when Marcus's shot hit the cable strung between the court lights, sending sparks showering down. They stood there, breathing hard, sweat cooling on their skin.

"I'm not angry about the promotion," Elena said, finally looking at him. "I'm angry that you're not in the life we built. You're just... visiting."

Marcus felt something crack open in his chest. All those late nights, what had he actually been working toward? The corner office, the title change, the cable channels he never watched. He'd been measuring success in metrics that didn't matter.

"Play again?" he asked. "No phones this time."

Elena hesitated, then picked up her racquet. "First to eleven. And you're buying dinner afterward."

"Deal," Marcus said, and for the first time in months, he meant it.