The Service Court

The Caribbean sun beat down on the padel court as Elena wiped her palms on her skirt—again. Across the net, Marcus served with the easy confidence of a man who'd just been promoted to partner while she'd been laid off that morning.

'Your form's sloppy,' he called out, retrieving the ball from the corner. 'Like your presentation yesterday.'

Elena said nothing. The resort had been his idea—a 'celebration' for his partnership, a 'consolation' for her termination. She'd played along. Some part of her still believed in the script they'd been writing together for three years.

The game continued. Padel was supposed to be their thing—less pretentious than tennis, more engaging than squash. Now every racket swing felt like a metaphor. She missed an easy volley. Marcus laughed, not unkindly.

'You're distracted,' he said, walking to the net. 'Is it the severance package? I told you, I can help with the negotiations.'

The water cooler beside the court caught the light, casting rippling shadows across his expensive loafers. She remembered the weekend they'd spent in Malaga, learning the sport. How he'd held her hand when she'd been frustrated with her backhand. How his palm had felt—warm, solid, promising.

'I don't need your help, Marcus.'

'It's not help if it's between us.' He stepped closer. 'I'm doing this for us.'

'Are you?' The question hung in the humid air.

She looked past him at the palm trees swaying against the brilliant sky, their trunks scarred with initials from tourists who believed their love would outlast their vacations. Maybe some had. Most hadn't.

'The layoff wasn't performance-based,' she said quietly. 'It was restructuring. They eliminated my entire department.'

'I know.'

'And you knew. Yesterday. Before my presentation.'

Marcus said nothing. The water in the cooler glugged as someone refilled a bottle at the next court.

'You let me present,' Elena continued, her voice steady. 'You let me stand there and pitch myself to you. You watched me try to prove my worth to a company that had already decided I was expendable.'

'I thought if you did well—'

'If I did well, what?' She stepped to the net. 'You'd what? Offer me a job? Let me work under you while you decided if I was still worth your time?'

'That's not fair.'

'No.' She dropped her racket on the court. 'It's not.'

She walked toward the clubhouse, leaving him standing alone in the service court. Behind her, the palm fronds whispered in the wind, and somewhere, water splashed against the edge of the infinity pool—sounds of a paradise she'd never actually believed in, not even when she'd pretended to.