The Wellness Wire
The third vitamin C tablet stuck in Maya's throat like a accusation. She washed it down with lukewarm tap water, catching her reflection in the microwave door—gray hair threading through what used to be chestnut brown, invisible to everyone but her.
"You're running on fumes," David had said yesterday, his hand lingering on her lower back before pulling away. "The launch is killing you."
He wasn't wrong. The wellness startup she'd joined six months ago had consumed her life, ironic given their product line promised work-life balance in gelcap form. Maya was thirty-nine and somehow both running a successful brand and running herself into the ground.
The apartment felt hollow without him. David's shampoo still sat in her shower, his scent on her pillowcases. They hadn't spoken since Thursday's argument about their future—whether they had one, whether she wanted children, whether their shared mortgage and seven years together meant anything anymore.
Her phone buzzed. A crisis at the warehouse. A contaminated batch.
Maya grabbed her keys, stopped at the sink to splash cold water on her face. The mirror showed someone she barely recognized: hollow-cheeked, eyes tired, hair pulled back in that tight knot David said made her look severe.
She drove to work through rain, windshield wipers keeping time with her racing thoughts. At the warehouse, lawyers were already present, their faces grave. The contamination wasn't an accident. Someone had tampered with the product.
"Sabotage," the investigator said. "Inside job."
Maya thought of David's keycard, his access, his growing resentment of her success. Running the company had meant running away from their relationship, but she'd never imagined this.
Outside, rain slicked her hair to her skull. She dialed his number, water dripping down her neck like consequences finally arriving.
"Did you do it?" she asked when he answered. "The contamination."
Silence. Then, barely audible: "You kept running, Maya. From everything real. I just wanted you to stop."