Page 171 of Bad Prince

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Then—

“¿Qué pasó, mija?”

(What happened, my daughter?)

Her voice is soft, but sharp underneath. Listening.

I swallow.

“Nada, Mamá. Estoy bien.”

(Nothing, Mom. I’m fine.)

Another pause.

Longer this time.

“Mentira.”

(That’s a lie.)

My chest tightens.

“You don’t sound like yourself,” she continues, switching into English now, her accent wrapping around the words. “Tell me.”

I lean back against the wall.

Stare at the ceiling.

“I’m just… tired.”

“Tired from what?”

I let out a slow breath.

“Everything.”

Silence.

Then, quieter?—

“I thought this is what I wanted,Mamá.”

My voice cracks just slightly.

“I worked so hard to get here. To Stanford. To D1. To all of it.”

I swallow again.

“And now I’m here and it just…,” I trail off.

“Feels what?” she presses.

“…empty.”

The word hangs there.

Heavy.

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