Another pause.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But it’s not just basketball anymore.”
That stayed with me after the call ended.
Because he was right.
And I hated that I didn’t know how to stop it.
ROWAN
I sat by the window that night longer than I meant to.
Phone in hand.
Mason’s last message still open.
Everything already feels different.
That line kept repeating in my head.
Not because it was dramatic.
Because it was accurate.
And accuracy was harder to ignore than emotion.
My phone buzzed one more time.
Mason.
Mason:
Tomorrow’s going to be worse.
I stared at it.
Then replied:
Rowan:
Probably.
A pause.
Then:
Mason:
Goodnight.
I hesitated.
Then:
Rowan:
Goodnight.
