The Wellness Scheme

Sofia's palm felt clammy against the cold glass of vitamin water she'd paid twelve dollars for. The corporate wellness retreat had been Javier's idea—her oldest friend, now somehow also her boss after that restructuring nobody talked about anymore.

"You need to decompress," he'd told her, smiling with that new too-white intensity. "This pyramid scheme of corporate anxiety we've built isn't sustainable."

She'd laughed then. She wasn't laughing now.

The resort offered padel lessons at dawn. Javier had signed them both up, insisting it was the fastest-growing sport among successful executives. Sofia hadn't touched a racquet since college, but there she was at 6 AM, sweat already slicking her hairline, watching Javier demonstrate his backhand with the precision of a man who practiced alone in mirrors.

"Your form's tense, Sof," he called out, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Let go of the outcome."

The ball whizzed past her ear. Sofia didn't flinch.

That evening, they sat by the infinity pool while a wellness coach explained how meditation could restructure neural pathways—"like building an internal pyramid of tranquility, from survival self to transcendence." Sofia watched Javier nodding earnestly, already reaching for his credit card when she mentioned the premium supplement line.

"You should try the immunity pack," Javier told her, pressing a foil packet into her hand. "Changed my life."

Sofia turned it over in her fingers—ashwagandha, lion's mane, something proprietary labeled "Vitality Complex." The palm-sized packet felt impossibly light.

"Javier," she said softly, "remember when we were broke and lived on that terrible takeout pad thai?"

He blinked, the wellness moment fracturing. "What?"

"Nothing." She pocketed the vitamins. "Just remembering."

Later, she scattered the supplements into the pool, watching them dissolve among the chlorine ripples. Some things about friendship were better left unexamined. Some pyramids were meant to stay buried.