“What’s going on, El?”
My throat tightened without warning. I blinked fast, willing the sting behind my eyes to back off.
Dad leaned forward, his voice gentle but grounded. “It’s okay, Ellie. Talk to us.”
I hesitated then exhaled. “It’s just...a lot.”
“Start there,” Mom said.
I ran a hand through my hair. “I’m doing everything I ever dreamed of. I have everything I thought I wanted.”
“But?”
“I should be happy. I should be soaking it in, loving every second.”
“But you’re not,” Dad said, his tone calm.
I shook my head. “No. Not the way I used to.”
Mom didn’t rush me. She just held my gaze.
“I don’t know what’s going on,” I said. “It’s probably just the schedule, the pressure, or whatever. I’ve worked too hard to start questioning it now. I…I keep wondering if I should be doing more or pushing harder. Like if I ease up, I’ll lose everything I’ve built. I just want to make you guys proud.”
Mom reached across the table and took my hand, her thumb brushing over my knuckles. “You have already made us proud, over and over again.”
I swallowed. “But you sacrificed so much. You dropped everything for me. Drove me to every tiny venue, probably maxed out credit cards so I could get new equipment. You put your lives on hold so I could have a shot.”
“And we’d do it again,” my dad said. “A hundred times over.”
“But I don’t want to throw it away. I don’t want to walk away from something this big because it’s hard or because I’m tired. There are people who need what I do, who look up to me.”
Dad nodded. “They do, but the people who really see you? They want what’s best for you too, not the version of you on that stage.”
I looked down. “Some days, the touring, the spotlight—it feels heavier than it should. And every time I think about slowing down, I feel like I’m disappointing people, like I owe it to everyone to keep going.”
Mom squeezed my hand. “You’ve climbed a mountain most people only dream of. You’ve built something out of nothing. You’re allowed to want peace. It’s okay to change your mind. That’s not failure.”
I looked between them, my voice barely above a whisper. “You wouldn’t be disappointed in me?”
Dad’s answer was immediate. “We could never be disappointed in you.”
Mom nodded, her eyes full of something fierce and unwavering. “You’re not here to live anyone else’s dream, not even ours. You’ve already made us proud. The rest? Those are just details.”
“What about that football player you’re dating?” Dad asked. “Does that play into this at all?”
I groaned. “Seriously?”
He shrugged. “Curious father. Sue me.”
I bit back a groan. Of course, he brought that up. That football player was tangled up in more parts of my life than I liked to admit, but I’d wanted distance. Boundaries. Something clean and controlled I could walk away from when the time came.
Nothing about Sawyer was easy.
He made me think about things I didn’t want to want and feel things I didn’t trust. He made me question the way I measured success, why I kept people at arm’s length, and how I’d turned independence into a wall instead of a choice. Somehow, he chipped away at all of it without even trying.
“I don’t know,” I said finally, picking at the edge of a page. “He complicates it.”
Mom tilted her head slightly. “Because you like him more than you meant to.”
