The Vitamin We Never Took

Maya stood in the bathroom at 3 AM, staring at the amber **vitamin** D bottle on the counter. Marcus had bought it three months ago, back when they still made plans together—when they still believed supplements could fix anything. Now it just sat there gathering dust, like their marriage.

She was **running** on fumes, had been for weeks. Since the promotion. Since Marcus stopped coming home. Since the realization that success had somehow become a synonym for solitude. Her morning runs used to be about clarity, about the rhythmic thud of her sneakers against pavement drowning out the noise in her head. Now even that felt like punishment.

The TV **cable** had been cut yesterday—her own petty protest against the evenings spent scrolling through channels alone, watching other people live fictional lives while hers felt increasingly like one she hadn't auditioned for. The silence was worse. It allowed her thoughts to echo too loudly off the walls they'd painted together that weekend they still believed in forever.

Her **palm** pressed against the cold glass of the window, feeling the city's vibrations. She'd had her palms read once in college—some grinning woman on a boardwalk who'd promised her a long life line and a love that would weather any storm. She'd forgotten until tonight how disappointed she'd been when Marcus's life line had been shorter, how she'd convinced herself they'd somehow cheat fate together.

Maya unscrewed the vitamin bottle. Dry, useless capsules rattled against the plastic. The expiration date had passed last week.

She laughed then—a sharp, broken sound that startled the cat. All this time, she'd been waiting for something to change. For Marcus to remember. For the promotion to feel like an achievement instead of a cage. For some sign that she was still making the right choices.

Instead, she'd been taking expired vitamins and running in circles and watching herself disappear one increment at a time.

Maya dumped the bottle into the trash. Then she laced up her running shoes, grabbed her keys, and walked out into the predawn darkness. This time, she wasn't running away. She wasn't running toward anything either. She was just running, finally, toward herself.