The Wellness Weekend

The brochure promised rejuvenation. What we got was a **pyramid** scheme disguised as a corporate retreat, nested in the desert like a pyramid scheme within a pyramid scheme. Maya sat on the edge of the infinity **pool**, her legs dangling in water that cost more per night than our first apartment.

'You look like a **zombie**,' she said, not looking at me.

I hadn't slept properly since the layoffs started—watching people we'd hired, people we'd mentored, get herded into conference rooms like cattle. I'd stopped taking the **vitamin** D supplements Dr. Chen prescribed. What was the point of strengthening bones when everything inside felt hollow?

'The keynote speaker wants to teach us about "synergistic wellness,"' I said, sinking onto the lounge chair beside her. 'He starts with his story of overcoming burnout by founding a kombucha empire.'

Maya laughed, but it was sharp, not amused. 'Remember when we thought burnout was something that happened to other people?'

The pool reflected a sky so blue it looked artificial. Below us, the resort curved upward toward the central tower—a modern pyramid of glass and privilege. I'd spent six years climbing my way to a director position that dissolved into nothing when the private equity firm swooped in. Now we were here, pretending this wasn't just a fancy way of saying goodbye.

'My mother called this morning,' Maya said quietly. 'She asked if I'd considered that "wellness coaching" thing. The one her friend's daughter does.' She swirled her foot in the water. 'Another pyramid. Everyone's selling something.'

I reached for her hand underwater. Her fingers were cold. 'What if we just stopped? The consulting, the side hustles, the optimization of our entire lives like we're problems to be solved?'

She turned to me then, really looked at me, for the first time in days. The zombie I'd become stared back from her eyes too.

'We could sell the condo,' she said. 'Move somewhere with actual seasons. Open that bookstore we talked about in college.'

'And do what about health insurance?'

'Some things are worth the risk.' She squeezed my hand. 'Some things are killing us slowly enough that we forgot we're dying.'

The vitamin bottle in my pocket pressed against my hip—a small thing, but it suddenly felt heavy. I stood up, pulled her up with me. The water dripped from our legs onto expensive stone.

'Let's skip the keynote,' I said.

Maya smiled, and for the first time in months, it reached her eyes. 'Let's go home.'