What the Sphinx Whispered

The **water** in the hotel pool shimmered like liquid diamond, distorting the bodies beneath its surface. Elena sat at the edge, her legs submerged, watching Richard order another gin and tonic from the swim-up bar. Their tenth anniversary trip to Egypt had been his idea—his attempt to salvage what they'd both known was ending for months.

"You're not drinking," Richard said, sliding onto the lounge chair beside her. His **palm** found her knee, a reflex that once meant comfort, now felt like obligation.

"Not thirsty."

"The doctor said your iron's low. You should eat something." He gestured toward the restaurant buffet. "They have fresh **spinach** at the salad bar."

Elena laughed, a sharp sound. "We're standing in front of the Great Sphinx, Richard, and you're worried about my iron levels?"

But that was Richard. Practical. Grounded. The man who'd loved her through her mother's death and her miscarriage, who'd held her while she sobbed into his shirtsleeve, who now touched her with the careful distance of someone handling something fragile and possibly already broken.

The next morning, they took a tour of the Pyramids. The Sphinx loomed against a merciless blue sky, its limestone face eroded by centuries of wind and human breath. Their guide explained how Napoleon's soldiers had shot off its nose. "A senseless act of destruction," he said. "Sometimes men destroy what they cannot possess."

Richard's hand brushed hers. "Are you happy, El?"

The question suspended between them like dust motes in shafts of temple light. She thought about the fertility treatments they'd stopped trying. The nights he'd worked late. The way she'd stopped telling him about her days because his responses had become automatic, rehearsed.

"I don't know," she said. "Are you?"

He looked at the Sphinx, then at her. "I thought we were building something that would last. Like this."

"Even this is falling apart," she said, touching his arm. "The nose is gone. The elements are taking it."

"But it's still standing."

"Is standing enough?"

They returned to the hotel separately. Richard went to the business center to check emails. Elena went to the pool and lowered herself into the water, letting it close over her head, holding her breath until her lungs burned. When she surfaced, gasping, she found him standing at the edge, fully dressed, watching her.

"I ordered the spinach," he said. "For dinner. If you're hungry."

She treaded water, looking up at him against the Egyptian sky.

"I'm hungry," she said. "Just not for food."

He nodded once, then held out his hand. His palm was warm, solid, uncertain. Elena took it, letting him pull her from the water, not knowing if this was beginning again or finally ending, but for now, that was answer enough.