Vitamin Deficiency

The doctor's office smelled like antiseptic and broken promises. Sarah sat on the crinkly paper, swinging her legs like a child, waiting for Dr. Patel to deliver whatever news the blood work had revealed.

"Vitamin D deficiency," he said, not looking up from his chart. "It explains the fatigue, the mood swings. You're twenty-eight, Sarah. You should be taking better care of yourself."

She nodded, staring at the orange slices arranged artfully on a motivational poster across the room. Vitamin C. Vitamin D. Vitamins for the body, but nothing prescribed for the hollow ache where her mother used to be, for the empty space Mark had left when he packed his things in cardboard boxes and walked out three months ago.

Her iPhone buzzed in her pocket—a Pavlovian response she couldn't control. Megan's name lit up the screen: *Can you meet? Need to talk.*

Megan. The friend who had stayed silent through the divorce, through the nights Sarah drank too much wine and sent texts she couldn't remember sending. The friend who had stood at the back of the church at her mother's funeral, anonymous in her black coat, and then disappeared.

They met at a café where the barista knew Sarah's order by heart. Large cappuccino, extra foam, no cinnamon.

"I'm getting married," Megan said without preamble.

Sarah's cup clattered against its saucer. "To who?"

"Mark."

The name hit like physical violence. Mark, who had said Sarah was too broken, too difficult, too much work. Mark, who had accused her of being emotionally unavailable while she was grieving her mother. Mark, who now wanted to marry her friend.

"When?" Sarah heard herself ask.

"October. We wanted you to know, considering..." Megan's voice trailed off.

"Considering what? That I loved him? That he lived with me for three years?"

"We've been talking since January. Before you two split up."

Sarah understood then. The sudden breakup. The vague reasons. The way Mark had seemed almost relieved when she'd cried herself to sleep those first nights. He hadn't left because she was broken. He'd left because he'd already found someone new.

She stood up. Her legs felt strange, like they belonged to someone else.

"You should go," she said.

"Sarah, I—"

"Take your vitamins," Sarah said, and walked out into the bright orange sunset of a world where nothing was true and everyone left eventually.

That night, she deleted Mark's number. She deleted Megan's too. And then, for the first time in months, she slept through the night.