The Wellness Lie

Every morning, Elena lined them up on the marble countertop: Vitamin D for the life she didn't live anymore, B-complex for the energy she'd lost somewhere between maternity leave and menopause, and the prenatal vitamins she still took though she and Marcus had stopped trying eight months ago. He never asked about the orange bottle anymore. He barely asked about anything.

Their Saturday padel match was the performance art of their marriage. Inside the chain-link fence, under the brutal midday sun, she and Marcus moved through the choreography of partnership: calling shots, covering each other's positions, the soft satisfied noises when they won a point. Afterward, over cucumber water at the club, they'd discuss menu planning and summer vacation logistics like two colleagues finalizing a quarterly report.

"You're off your game today," Marcus said afterward in the car, not looking at her. He was already scrolling through his iPhone, thumbs moving with practiced efficiency.

"Just tired."

"You should try that new magnesium supplement."

He didn't look at her when he said it. He never looked at her anymore, not really. In bed, he faced the door, phone light illuminating his slack features. In the kitchen, he faced his laptop. Even at dinner, his attention flickered toward the table like a broken bulb—present, then gone, then present again.

That night, lying beside his sleeping form, Elena picked up his iPhone. She knew his passcode—he'd never changed it from their wedding date. She didn't know what she was looking for. Another woman? Evidence he'd already hired a divorce lawyer?

What she found was worse: screenshots from Reddit threads titled "How to know when it's time to leave" and "The slow death of love." A note app draft: "I'm dying by degrees. I wake up every day wishing I was brave enough to go."

The prenatal vitamins sat on her nightstand. She opened the bottle and swallowed three dry. For the life they weren't living. For the future that wasn't coming. For the vitamins to work their impossible magic and make her feel something again.

Beside her, Marcus slept with his back to her, breathing in the measured rhythm of someone who's learned to survive on oxygen alone.