Vitamin D and Other Deficiencies

Elena stood at the edge of the **pool**, the water reflecting the dying light like liquid amber. Her phone buzzed again—another message from Marcus about his late night at the office. The third this week. She'd stopped believing him somewhere around the second **vitamin** supplement he'd started taking, those little yellow pills that were supposed to cure what ailed him. If only they made one for suspicion.

She'd played the **spy** for two weeks now. Tracking his location, scrolling through his receipts, becoming someone she barely recognized. The GPS placed him here, at the resort where they'd spent their anniversary, where he'd claimed to be closing a deal with clients.

The sound of a racket hitting a ball drew her toward the **padel** court. There he was—sweat-slicked and laughing, his arm around some woman in a skirt too short for a Tuesday evening. They moved like they'd done this before, like they'd been doing this for months.

Elena didn't approach. She simply watched, noting how Marcus moved differently with this woman—loose, unburdened, the way he used to be with her before life accumulated between them like sediment. She turned back toward the pool, suddenly understanding that the real deficiency wasn't in Marcus's vitamins or her trust. It was in the life they'd built together—all the nutrients leeched out years ago, leaving them both malnourished in different ways.

She sat on a lounge chair and waited, not for a confrontation or a confession, but for the courage to finally walk away.