Liam sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his reflection in the glass,the same reflection that had watched him lie, smile, and pretend. But tonight, his mind wasn't in the present.
It drifted back to the first day he met her.
It was early spring the kind of day when the baseball diamond gleamed like polished gold in the sunlight. Practice had just ended, and Liam was the last one left on the field, collecting stray baseballs. He was humming under his breath when he heard a voice behind him.
"You missed one," it said.
He turned to see a girl standing just outside the dugout, holding a ball in her hand. Her hair was tied in a loose ponytail, and she wore an oversized campus hoodie with "Media Club" written across the chest.
"Thanks," he said, taking the ball from her. "You new around here?"
She smiled."Sort of. I'm doing an article on the team for the student paper."
"Ah," he said, tossing the ball lightly and catching it again. "Guess I should be nice, then."
"You should," she said, grinning. "I might make you sound like a hero."
That was Emily.
Quick with a joke. Curious about everything. Unafraid of anyone,strong and intelligent.
She came back the next week, then again the week after that, always with her notebook and recorder, asking questions that made the other players squirm.
But not Liam. He liked the attention.
Sometimes, after practice, they'd sit on the bleachers and talk while the sun went down. She'd ask about his family, his plans, his dreams. He'd tell her half-truths enough to sound honest, never enough to be real. But she never stopped asking questions because of how inquisitive she is.
"You ever think about quitting?" she asked once.
He laughed. "Baseball? No way." Not in this life,not even in the next life.
"No,she said.I mean everything else the pressure, the noise. Doesn't it ever feel… fake?"
He looked at her then, and for a second, something inside him cracked.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "It does."
The friendship grew from there. Emily started helping with team logistics,managing equipment, keeping stats, organizing interviews.
To everyone else, she was just "the team girl."
To Liam, she was the only person who seemed to actually see him.But she saw too much.
It started small,a missed practice here, a bad game there. She noticed when he looked tired, distracted, restless.
"Are you okay?" she asked once after a particularly rough game.
"Yeah," he said too quickly.
She didn't believe him. "You've been off lately. You're not sleeping, are you?"
He smiled, pretending to be amused. "You sound like my mom." They bought chuckled.
She rolled her eyes. "Maybe your mom's right."
He laughed, and she smiled back but the way she looked at him that day stuck in his mind. It wasn't admiration anymore. It was worry.
A few weeks later, she found him behind the gym, sitting on the steps, his head in his hands.He hadn't noticed her approach until she said softly, "Rough day?"
He looked up,eyes red, hands trembling just slightly.
"Long day," he muttered
She sat beside him. "Want to talk about it?"
He almost did. Almost told her everything. He held back when he noticed he was beginning to talk too much.
Instead, he replied her with , "Just tired."
She nodded slowly. "You know, you don't always have to pretend to be okay."
He looked at her and for the first time, something in him eased.
"I know," he said. "But it's easier that way."
The next few months blurred together. They grew closer inside jokes, shared coffee runs, late-night talks about life after college.
To everyone else, Emily was just another girl who liked the baseball star. But to Liam, she became something different a reminder of who he used to be before everything got complicated.
He started showing up early to practice because he knew she'd be there, sitting in the stands with her notebook. Where ever he scored a goal, he'll look at her giving her a wink.
She made his collage life complete. Ever since he got into college,he has never had a female friend so close to him, who cares about is totally wellbeing even if most times he gets tired of her questions.
He didn't realize, at first, how dangerous that had become.Because the closer she got, the more she noticed how he acts strangely.
One afternoon, after practice, she waited for him outside the locker room.
"Liam, can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
She hesitated, then said, "What's really going on with you?"
He froze. "What do you mean?"
"You're… different. You disappear sometimes. You look like you're hiding something."
He forced a laugh. "You've been watching too many crime shows."
"I'm serious." Her voice was soft, not accusing. "If you're in trouble, you can tell me."
He looked at her and felt that strange mix of warmth and fear. She cared. But caring could get her hurt.
So he smiled again and said, "You worry too much.
That night, though, he couldn't sleep.
He sat at his desk,thinking about her voice. If you're in trouble, you can tell me.
He wanted to believe it.
But by then, it was already too late.
In the present, the loud howling of his dog brought him back to himself. The dorm was silent except for the faint hum of the heater.
He ran his hands through his hair, his pulse pounding in his ears.
Every memory of her hurt now every laugh, every question, every look.
He'd told himself what happened that night wasn't meant to happen. It was just a mistake.
But as her voice echoed in his mind You don't always have to pretend to be okay he felt the weight of the truth press down on him like a storm.
He had been pretending for too long.
And now, pretending was killing him.