surprised me more than it did.
She’d played for years, loved her teammates, and rarely missed practice.
But when I asked Tiffany what had happened, she shrugged.
“She’s growing up, Greg. Kids change their interests.”
Later, I asked Maya directly.
“Sweetheart, are you sure you don’t want to play anymore?”
She gave me a small smile.
“It’s fine, Dad.”
I accepted that answer.
Then, several weeks later, I walked into the kitchen late one evening and found her asleep with her head resting on an open textbook.
Her homework wasn’t finished.
I carried her upstairs, assuming she’d simply had an exhausting school day.
Around the same time, Kelly mentioned that Maya seemed unusually tired during their video calls.
“Has she been sleeping enough?” Kelly asked.
“As far as I know,” I replied.
Even my mother noticed something.
During a Sunday visit, she told me Maya had become strangely anxious about
