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They both blink in confusion. Dad recovers first. “What? Why not? Does it clash with your classes? I already spoke to Dean Mason about it, and he assured me it would be fine.”

Of course, they spoke to the dean.“No. It’s not that. It’s that . . .” I take a deep breath, my entire body trembling. “I don’t want to go.”

Again, they both stare at me, frozen, as they process my words.

“I can see if he’s willing to travel to see you,” Dad says slowly. “Perhaps he could make it to the San Francisco meet. But it would be easier if you went to Colorado.”

“It’s unlike you to be so difficult, Joy,” Mom says, her concern sharpening with annoyance. “You’ve already essentially wasted four years of your career—"

“I don’t want to swim professionally.”

The words tumble from me in a heated rush, but any relief is swamped by overwhelming guilt as they share a look before turning back to me. Mom looks angry, but Dad looks . . . heartbroken.

“When did you decide this?” he asks quietly.

I can’t. I can’t tell him that the last four years have been a lie. “It doesn’t matter, Dad. I know you’re disappointed, and I still love swimming, but it’s not where I see my future. Not anymore.”

“And where exactlydoyou see your future?” Mom asks, her voice tight.

I drag in a shaky breath. “Music.”

Mom barks a laugh. “Your piano playing is subpar at best, Joy, and you can’t sing. Who’s been filling your head with these stupid dreams?”

My skin heats, my fingers curling beneath my desk. “It’s not a stupid dream,” I snap. “I want a career in music production.”

Dad rubs a hand over his face, looking older than usual, and I hate that I’m causing him stress—that I’m the reason he looks so sad. “Music production?”

“Yes,” I say, more confidently, lifting my chin. “I’ve been DJing since senior year of high school, and I’m good. Really good. I want to go to LA after graduation to pursue it further.”

“DJing?” Mom spits out the term like it’s poison. “Ridiculous. You’ll have time to pursue these frivolous activities once you retire—”

“Mom,” I try again. “After I graduate, I will not be swimming competitively again.”

The silence that follows is deafening. I can see my mom trying to work through possible solutions, her botoxed brow almost creasing as she likely tries to find ways to convince me. What’s worse, is Dad. He looks so sad and defeated.

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly, my eyes burning. “The last thing I ever wanted to do was disappoint you, but swimming doesn’t make me happy the same way that music does. It’s not my passion and, if I’m honest with myself, it hasn’t been for a long time. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Dad says, his eyes watery. “Swimming ismypassion. I’d never force you to pursue something your heart wasn’t in, Joy. But you’ll need to give me some time to process, okay? Both of us.”

I swallow the lump in my throat and glance at Mom, but she still looks furious. “I’ll call you after the meet this weekend, okay?”

Dad smiles, but it goes nowhere near his eyes. “Okay, sweetheart. Good luck.”

“Thank you.” I open my mouth to say something to Mom, but she just reaches forward and disconnects the call before I can utter a word.

Oh.

I stay, staring at the blank screen for a few minutes, trying to process the fact that I’ve finally done what I’ve been dreading for years. It’s far from over, but it’s done. My hand flies to my mouth as a sob escapes. They know. I don’t have to hide this part of myself anymore.

My phone vibrates on my desk, and I reach for it, sniffling as I find a message from Aldo on our group chat.

ALDO: How’s it going?

I told him and Lane what I was doing today, and they made me promise to tell them when it was over.

ME: It’s done

The dots start moving immediately, but I put the phone down and grab some tissue, blowing my nose while I wait.

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