The Unraveling at Sunset

"He's not going to leave her, David."

The words hung between them, heavier than the humid air. This was what they'd circled for six months—the coworker he'd stayed late with, the mysterious meetings he'd rescheduled their anniversary dinner to attend. Elena had found the receipts, the texts. She'd packed her bags twice and unpacked them twice.

"It's not like that," he said, but his voice cracked. "She's just—"

"Don't." Elena dove underwater, letting the muffled quiet fill her ears. When she surfaced, gasping, David was gone. His phone still sat on the lounge chair, screen glowing with an incoming call from HER.

Elena pulled herself from the pool, water streaming from her hair and down her spine like something being shed. She didn't look back at the padel court where they'd played their last game together. She didn't look at the empty chair.

She walked toward their bungalow, already knowing which door she'd close behind her.

The cable guy was right. Some connections just need to be cut completely before anything else can work.