What We Bear

Emma sat on the locker room bench, staring at the papaya she'd brought for lunch. It was overripe now, soft spots blooming like bruises across its skin—much like her friendship with Sarah had become: something that started sweet and firm, then rotted from the inside out.

Outside, the padel court echoed with rhythmic thwacks. Sarah had been the one who'd dragged her into playing, both of them pretending their competitive streaks were just friendly exercise. But Emma knew better. She knew that somewhere in the third set, when Sarah's grin had turned predatory, that this was never just a game.

"You're like a goldfish," Sarah had told her once, swirling wine in her glass after another doubles match they'd lost. "No memory for how badly I treat you. Just keep swimming back to me."

Emma had laughed it off then. Now, those words gnawed at her.

Her phone buzzed. Sarah again. Are you coming today? We have the court at 4.

Emma's thumb hovered over the screen. Last week, she'd watched Sarah charm her way into a promotion Emma had been working toward for two years. Later, Sarah had called it "just business, you understand."

She did understand. Sarah was a bear: powerful, territorial, and ruthless when something she wanted was within reach. Emma had been the salmon swimming upstream, too exhausted to notice she was being hunted.

The papaya's scent wafted up—sickly sweet, cloying. Emma stood up and dropped it in the trash.

Outside, Sarah waited at the net, racquet in hand, that practiced smile already in place.

"Ready?" Sarah called.

Emma walked onto the court, the rubber squeak of her shoes against the floor. She wasn't a goldfish anymore. She was someone who could bear the weight of losing, someone who understood that some games weren't worth playing, even when you'd already paid the entry fee.

"Actually," Emma said, stepping back toward the gate. "I think I'm done."

Sarah's smile faltered. Just for a second. But it was enough.

Emma walked away, and for the first time in years, the silence felt like freedom, not loss.