Tropical Depression

The papaya sat on the white ceramic plate, dissected into neat wedges, its black seeds glistening like tiny obsidian eyes. Elena stared at it. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, palm fronds bent in the wind like supplicants begging for mercy.

"You're not eating," Marcus said. He'd already finished his eggs benedict, his phone face-up on the table between them like a third party to their marriage.

"Not hungry."

"You should eat. You need your vitamins."

Elena felt something inside her crack—not break, but crack, like ice under pressure. Three days into what was supposed to be their second honeymoon, and he was still talking to her like she was a patient he couldn't quite cure. She'd suspected, of course. The late nights at the hospital. The sudden obsession with his appearance. The way he'd started holding her hand—palm to palm, fingers intertwined—like a practice run for someone else.

"Marcus,"

"Hmm?" He was already swiping through emails.

"Who is she?"

His thumb froze. The silence between them stretched, taut and terrible, until a palm frond slapped against the glass and made them both jump.

"She's a resident," he said finally, not looking up. "Twenty-six. Thinks I'm brilliant."

Elena nodded slowly. She speared a piece of papaya and put it in her mouth. Sweet, musky, faintly fermented—like something that had been sitting in the sun too long. Like them.

"Does she take her vitamins?" she asked.

Marcus looked up then, and for the first time in years, she didn't recognize the man across from her. "Elena—"

"Save it."

She stood up, her chair scraping against the tile. Outside, the storm was breaking. Clouds parted and sunlight flooded the restaurant, turning the palms to gold, the papaya seeds to jewels. Everything beautiful and sharp and suddenly, horribly clear.

"I'll be on the first flight home," she said. "You can stay. Finish your emails."

She walked out without looking back, leaving him alone with the fruit and the view and the terrible, quiet certainty that some things, once broken, can't be fixed with supplements or second chances or tropical sunsets.

Some things just rot.