“No, Daniel, there’s no need to worry, but please, for my sake.” He pauses. I know where he is heading with this. “Please, Daniel.” He wants me to quit basketball.
He was the one who introduced it to me. “Dad.” My voice falters, caught between anger and understanding. I can feel my heart clenching as he continues speaking, his voice pleading. He knows how much basketball means to me. It’s not just my passion; it’s my outlet, my way to destress. I run a hand through my hair.
“Dad, you know that’s not fair. You know how much I need it. You’re the one that made me fall in love with basketball,” I say, a hint of desperation creeping into my voice. Every word feels like a knife digging into my chest. My hands tremble as I hold the phone, staring blankly at the wall.
“I know.” He coughs. “I know, but it doesn’t guarantee money. Only if you succeed will you be able to survive in that game.” I clench my fists, torn between the guilt of not being able to ease Dad’s worries and the determination to pursue my own passion. My mind races with conflicting thoughts—memories of Dad cheering me on at games, the sacrifices he had made to support me, and now this painful request to giveup the very thing that brings me solace.
“It’s a very dicey career, Daniel. One mistake and you will be benched for life,” he says. He sounds bitter. My stomach churns at the thought of quitting basketball.
He was a new player in the NBA and had dreams of making it big in basketball, but those dreams crashed before they could even begin. He was accused of tampering with the ball to gain an advantage. The truth was, it was a freak accident, but the damage was done. He was never given a chance again. I was there. I saw him wallow in self-pity. It was my mother who pulled him up while managing me and her illness. He still blames himself for not being there for Mom, but I understand because I can imagine how it must feel. It’s exactly how I am feeling right now. Just the thought of giving up is so scary. He wants me to manage his company, his business, because it’s a safer option.
I know about his failures and his disappointment, and I understand it on a deeply personal level. My heart aches as I realize how much he wants to protect me from that same fate, but giving up my dreams doesn’t feel like an option. I can’t give up without trying. It’s like he’s forgotten he did not raise a quitter.
“Dad, I understand your concerns. I really do,” I say, keeping my tone soft but firm. “But basketball isn’t just a game to me. It’s a part of who I am. And no amount of money or security can replace that.”
He sighs. “I know that feeling—the thrill of the game, the rush of competing. But I also know the harsh realities.” He chuckles humorlessly. “I wish I kept you away from that game,” he whispers.
I can feel my heart break at his words. “Dad,” I say, my voice thick with emotion. “I don’t regret anything, and I wouldn’t trade those moments on the court for the world. It defined me.”
“Are you attending the business classes?” he asks, changing the topic because he knows I am not going to give in. My thoughts go back to Anya; she’s the sole reason I want to be in that class.
“Yes, I am,” I reply. “I don’t like it, Dad. I don’t have the mind of a businessman.” Dad coughs again, his breath labored. He sounds so frail and tired, a hospital monitor beeping in the background.
“Daniel,” he says weakly. “I know you’re passionate about basketball. But listen to me. Please.” I hate the pain in his voice as much as I hate his words.
“I will prove you wrong,” I whisper. “There’s a tournament,” I begin with hope. “If I perform well, I could get scouted, Dad.” There is a pause, and then I hear him exhale softly. “I will come meet you after that tournament,” I reply firmly.
“You’re too determined. Just like your mom,” he says, his voice filled with a mix of affection and resignation. “Okay.” Dad coughs. “I look forward to seeing you, son.” There’s a brief silence on the phone.
“Take care of yourself, Dad. And please tell your bodyguards to stop spying on me,” I request.
He chuckles. “You noticed?”
“They’re not very discreet about it.” I sigh.
“Fine, I just wanted to make sure you’re going to your classes,” he reasons. “I will pull them back.” He coughs. “Don’t worry,” he adds.
∞∞∞
11
ANYA
I look at Daniel. He has a hint of a smile on his face. “Thank you for providing a cab service, captain,” I say.
“Hey, anything for you, Firecracker,” he replies jokingly, his eyes glimmering with amusement. I can’t help but roll my eyes at his response.
I feel a nudge from the backseat. “Ow.” I wince, glaring at Soph. She’s smirking. She looks between me and Daniel. Oh god, she’s not going to leave this alone. Siya has an amused smile on her face as well. I roll my eyes at them, but I can feel a blush creeping into my cheeks. I try to keep my expression neutral so as not to feed into their assumptions. I turn my attention to the road before Daniel catches our interaction.
“Here we are, ladies!” Daniel announces as the engine comes to a stop. Soph and Siya get out of the back seat, gathering their stuff. He looks at me for a moment longer than he should. My heart skips a beat under his intense gaze, and the air between us suddenly feels charged. But before I can react or say anything, he looks away, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips.
“Come on, Firecracker. Let’s have fun,” he says, his voicea touch quieter than usual. I take a deep breath, trying to suppress the fluttering in my stomach. I nod, smiling softly. I get out of the car, walking around and standing beside Siya. I can hear the peaceful sound of waves crashing on the shore. I look at Soph, already running towards the beach, and I snicker. I take the bag we brought from Siya, but immediately, Daniel takes it from me. “I will take it.”
“Hey, you can’t carry everything.” I protest weakly. He pauses for a moment, pretending to think.
“You’re right,” he says. He puts the bag down and takes off his sunglasses. He extends his hand. I tilt my head in confusion but still take it from him. “Here, You can carry this,” he says, grinning slightly, and before I can utter another word, he walks away. My heart stutters.
I huff in annoyance. Internally, I am swooning. Only a little bit, though.
