Maya's POV
"Stop."
The word came out sharper than I meant it to.
Liam froze, pen still in his hand. He looked up at me, surprised.
"What?" he asked.
"You're not listening," I said. "You're just staring at the page like it's going to solve itself."
He sighed and leaned back. "I'm listening."
"No, you're not," I said. "You've answered three questions wrong, and you know this stuff."
"I'm tired," he replied.
I crossed my arms. "You're always tired."
His jaw tightened. "Can we just get through this?"
"That's exactly the problem," I said. "You're always trying to get through things instead of fixing them."
Silence dropped between us.
This was our second tutoring session, but it felt heavier than the first. Ever since the library, everything felt different. Like we were both standing on thin ice.
"I'm trying to help you," I said more softly.
"I know," he replied. "But help doesn't always look the same to everyone."
I tapped the book with my finger. "You missed practice today."
He looked away. "I had things to do."
"Basketball things?" I asked.
He did not answer.
"Liam," I said, my chest tight, "you can't keep doing this."
He laughed once, low and tired. "Doing what? Playing basketball?"
"No," I said. "Pretending nothing is wrong."
He looked at me then. Really looked at me.
"Why are you pushing this so hard?" he asked.
"Because I care," I said before I could stop myself.
The words hung in the air.
He blinked. "You care?"
"Yes," I said. "About you passing. About you staying healthy. About you not ruining your future."
He rubbed his face with his good hand. "You don't get it."
"Then make me get it," I said.
He leaned forward, elbows on the table. "You think seeing a doctor fixes everything?"
"It's a start," I said.
"It's a finish for me," he replied.
"That's not true," I said.
"It is in my family," he said.
I frowned. "What does your family have to do with this?"
He hesitated.
This time, he did not brush it off.
"My dad," he said quietly.
"What about him?" I asked.
"He played," Liam said. "College. Almost pro."
My heart sank a little. "Almost?"
"He got injured," Liam continued. "Didn't report it. Played through it."
"And?" I asked.
"And it ended everything," he said. "No draft. No backup plan. Nothing."
I swallowed. "That's awful."
"He never stopped talking about it," Liam said. "How one injury stole his life."
I listened, not interrupting.
"When I got good at basketball," he said, "he saw a second chance."
My chest tightened.
"He pushed me hard," Liam went on. "Extra practice. Extra drills. No excuses."
"That's a lot for a kid," I said.
He shrugged. "It made me who I am."
"And now?" I asked.
"Now," he said, voice low, "if I tell anyone about this injury, it proves him right."
"Right about what?" I asked.
"That injuries ruin everything," Liam said. "That weakness ends careers."
I shook my head. "That's not weakness. That's being human."
He laughed without humor. "Try telling him that."
I leaned closer. "Have you told him you're hurt?"
"No," he said quickly. "I can't."
"Why not?" I asked, even though I already knew.
"Because if I report this injury," he said, voice cracking just a little, "my father will never forgive me. Basketball is all I have."
The room went quiet.
Those words hit harder than anything else he had said.
All I have.
I felt my eyes burn.
"That's not true," I said softly.
"It is," he insisted. "Without basketball, I'm nothing to him."
"That doesn't mean you're nothing," I said.
"But it feels like it," he replied.
I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself.
"You're more than a player," I said. "You're a student. A person. Someone who deserves to be okay."
He looked at me, eyes full of something close to fear.
"You don't understand what it's like," he said. "Every game feels like a test."
"I understand pressure," I said. "Just not the same kind."
He nodded slowly.
"I don't want to disappoint him," Liam said. "I don't want to disappoint anyone."
"And what about disappointing yourself?" I asked.
He did not answer.
"You're in pain," I continued. "Every time you move that arm. Every time you practice. Every time you pretend it's fine."
He clenched his jaw.
"Please," I said. "Just talk to a doctor. Not the coach. Not the team. Just someone who can help."
"And if they say I need rest?" he asked.
"Then you rest," I said. "And heal."
"And lose everything," he replied.
"Or save everything long-term," I said.
He shook his head. "You make it sound simple."
"It's not," I said. "But it's right."
We sat there, staring at each other.
The tension felt thick.
"I don't know what to do," he admitted.
I softened. "You don't have to decide tonight."
"But the pain is getting worse," he said.
That scared me.
"How bad?" I asked.
"Bad enough that sometimes I can't sleep," he said.
My heart dropped.
"That's not okay," I said firmly.
"I know," he replied.
I reached for my bag and pulled out my planner. "Let's focus on this for now," I said. "Your exam is coming up."
He nodded, but his eyes were distant.
We worked through problems, but his mind was elsewhere. I could feel it.
When we finished, he closed his book slowly.
"Thank you," he said.
"For tutoring?" I asked.
"For listening," he said.
I smiled sadly. "Anytime."
He stood up, then paused.
"Maya," he said.
"Yes?"
"If I tell you something," he said, "you won't tell anyone?"
My heart started racing. "I already promised."
"I mean this," he said.
I nodded. "I won't."
He swallowed.
"The pain started spreading," he said quietly. "Down my arm."
Fear shot through me.
"That's serious," I said.
"I know," he replied.
"Liam," I said, standing too, "you can't ignore that."
He met my eyes.
"I don't have a choice," he said.
Before I could reply, his phone buzzed.
He checked it, then stiffened.
"What is it?" I asked.
"Team group chat," he said. "Extra practice tomorrow."
I frowned. "With your shoulder like this?"
"I can't skip," he said.
"You should," I insisted.
He shook his head. "I'll manage."
I wanted to argue, but I could tell it would go nowhere.
As he walked toward the door, he stopped and looked back at me.
"If I lose basketball," he said, "I lose my father."
My chest ached.
"And I don't know who I am without either."
He left.
I stood there alone, my mind spinning.
I had wanted him to see a doctor.
Instead, I had learned the truth.
And now I knew the real injury was not just in his shoulder.
It was in his heart.
And I had no idea how to help him without breaking everything he loved.