The Zombie's Last Serve

The padel court hummed with the hollow echo of ball against racket, a rhythm we'd shared every Tuesday for three years. But tonight, something was wrong.

Marc stood at the net, his iPhone glowing in his hand like a forbidden object. Again. The sixth time this set alone.

"Work," he'd said the first five times. But the screen reflected something softer than spreadsheets—a notification, a message, a life elsewhere.

I felt like a zombie moving through our marriage, present but not alive, going through the motions of forehands and backhands while my heart decayed unnoticed. The palm trees lining the court swayed in the evening breeze, their fronds casting long shadows across his face—familiar features I couldn't read anymore.

"Your serve," he said, pocketing the phone with practiced nonchalance.

I bounced the ball, once, twice. Three years of Tuesday evenings, post-work drinks, weekend plans we'd stopped making. When had we started running on autopilot? When had the conversation at dinner turned from dreams to deadlines to comfortable silence?

The ball hung in the air—a green sphere suspended in possibility. I could serve. We could finish this match, drive home separately, and continue this slow death of us. Or...

"Marc."

He looked up, irritation flickering across his face before settling into something wary. "Yeah?"

"Who's on the phone?"

The question hung between us, heavier than any ball I'd ever served. The zombie inside me stirred, hungry for truth instead of this comfortable decay.

Marc's shoulders dropped. The game face cracked. "Does it matter?"

"Yes."

"Then you already know."

The palm tree's shadow stretched across the court, dividing us like a net. I wasn't running anymore—not from this. The padel racket slipped from my fingers, hitting the court with a final, hollow sound.

"Match point," I said. "You win."

He didn't celebrate. He just nodded, pocketed his phone, and walked toward the parking lot. I stood alone on the court, finally awake, finally alive, as the zombie inside me took its first real breath in years.