The Weight of Water

The padel court echoed at midnight. Elena stood in the shadows, watching Greg play yet another match with strangers from the resort. His laugh carried across the complex—genuine, unburdened. The kind of laugh she hadn't heard from him in three years.

Tomorrow she would tell him she was leaving. Tonight, she watched.

The morning found her at the beach alone. She'd been swimming daily since they arrived in Cabo, mile after parallel mile until her muscles burned and her mind emptied. The Pacific had become her confessor, its salt water stinging her eyes, hiding her tears.

She'd bought the swimming cap on impulse—a ridiculous white thing that made her feel like a different woman. A woman who made decisions. A woman who could walk away from a marriage everyone said was perfect.

"You're up early," said a voice behind her.

Elena turned to find Sarah, the vice president from Greg's firm, standing in the pale dawn light. Sarah was Greg's mentor, his boss, the reason Elena had tolerated so many canceled anniversaries and missed holidays.

"Couldn't sleep," Elena said.

Sarah nodded. "Greg told me about the baby. I'm sorry." Her voice lacked corporate polish. Just human roughness.

Elena's chest tightened. "He told you?"

"We're friends, Elena. That's all." Sarah paused. "He asked me for a referral. For a divorce lawyer."

The waves crashed against Elena's shins. "Oh."

"He wants to do it right. Doesn't want you to—"

"To what?"

"To carry it alone. He thinks you're staying out of obligation. Out of guilt."

Elena thought of all her morning swims, the way she'd imagined herself drowning in weight and silence. How she'd mistaken his distance for indifference, when really he'd been waiting for her to say the words first.

"I'm not staying out of guilt," she said finally. "I'm staying because I don't know who I am without us."

Sarah smiled sadly. "The swimming cap is a start."

Back at the resort, Greg was waiting at the edge of the padel court, racquet on his shoulder, looking older than she'd ever seen him. He reached into his bag and pulled out a weathered straw hat—something she'd bought him on their first trip to Mexico, a lifetime ago.

"Forgot this," he said, placing it on her head. "Ready?"

For what, she almost asked. Instead she nodded, and they walked together toward the water, leaving the court empty behind them.