Breaking Free

Part 2

I finally pull myself out of the car and trudge toward the front door. The porch light is still—Mom always leaves it on for me, even if she's already in bed. It's one of those small things she does that makes me feel like she's still looking out for me, even when she doesn't say it.

I step inside, trying to be quiet, but the familiar creak of the floorboards gives me away. Sure enough, I hear her voice from the living room.

"Tyler? Is that you?"

I consider slipping upstairs unnoticed, but that feels wrong somehow. Instead, I step into the living room, where Mom is curled up on the couch, a blanket draped over her lap. She's watching some old sitcom, but the volume is low, and she's got that look on her face—half concern, half relief, like she's been waiting up for me but didn't want to seem overbearing.

"Hey, Mom," I say, forcing a smile as I drop my bag by the door. "Didn't mean to wake you."

She shakes her head, giving me a soft smile. "You didn't. I was just catching up on some TV." She pats the spot next to her. "How was the game?"

I hesitate for a split second before crossing the room to sit down beside her. I can feel her watching me closely, like she's searching for something beneath the surface. I know I can't let her see it—not the uncertainty, not the doubt that's been gnawing at me all night.

"It was good," I say, keeping my tone light. "We won. State's next."

Her smile widens, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes. "That's great, sweetheart. I'm so proud of you." She pauses, her gaze lingering on me for a moment too long. "You okay? You seem... a little quiet."

I nod quickly, trying to brush it off. "Yeah, just tired. Long day, you know?"

She doesn't look convinced, but she doesn't push. Instead she reaches out and gently squeezes my hand. "You're doing great, Tyler. You know that, right? I know things can get overwhelming sometimes, but you've got so much going for you."

"Thanks, Mom," I mumble, pulling my hand back and rubbing the back of my neck. The words feel heavy, like there's something she's not saying. Or maybe it's me. Maybe it's the weight of everything I'm not saying to her. The words I can't let out.

I glance at the TV, trying to find and escape in the flickering images, but all I feel is this quiet tension between us, this unspoken distance. She means well, I know she does. But sitting here, listening to her tell me how proud she is, makes me feel... guilty. Like I'm lying to her every-time I pretend everything's fine.

She deserves better than this version of me—the one that's hiding, the one that's too scared to let her see the truth. But the fear of what might happen if I tell her the truth is stronger than the guilt. For now, at least.

"I should probably head up," I say after a few minutes of awkward silence. "Big day tomorrow."

Mom nods, her smile softening. "Of course. Get some rest. And, Tyler?"

"Yeah?" I stand up, halfway to the stairs.

"If you ever need to talk... about anything, I'm here. You know that, right?"

I swallow hard, nodding as I force another smile. "Yeah, I know. Thanks, Mom. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, sweetheart," she replies, her eyes following me as I head upstairs.

As I close the door to my room behind me, I let out a long breath I didn't know I was holding. The conversation was normal enough, but the weight of what I'm hiding from her feels heavier with each passing day. She's always been there for me, always believed in me, but how can I tell her the truth? How can I let her see the parts of me that I've barely even admitted to myself?

I fall onto my bed, staring up at the ceiling. The weight of the day presses down on me, but sleep doesn't come easily. All I can think about is the mask I wear—on the field, with my friends, even here, with my Mom. It's exhausting. But letting it slip... that terrifies me more than anything.

For now, I'll keep pretending. Keep playing the part. But deep down, I know it's only a matter of time before it all starts to crumble.