The scene shifted again. This time, he was back in practice, but it wasn’t the same. The ball was thrown to him, but his hands fumbled it. The crowd was still there—watching, waiting.

But when he looked around, there was no Coach. No teammates. Just the ball, bouncing away from him like it was mocking him. Every time he reached for it, it rolled just out of his grasp, bouncing farther and farther, as if the universe itself was telling him he couldn’t reach it.

He ran after it, stumbling, falling to his knees. But no matter how fast he moved, the ball kept escaping, and the sound of his failure grew louder, more distorted.

“Get it together,” a voice hissed, but it wasn’t anyone he knew. It sounded like a chorus of every doubt and failure he’d ever had, layered on top of each other.

“Pathetic.”

“You’ll never make it.”

Every word hit harder than the last, and every time Caden thought he was about to catch the ball, it slipped further away.

-

He shook in his sleep,muttering things quietly as he got cold sweats,hands digging into the couch.