Kai paced the empty dorm hallway that night, unable to sleep.
Evan's face — pale, strained, and desperate to hide something — haunted her thoughts like an unfinished swing. It wasn't just exhaustion. Something was wrong.
He's hiding it, she thought. But why?
As she sat by her window, staring at the moonlit course, Kai's memories flickered back to her father.
He used to say, "Golf teaches patience, but life tests it."
Kai clenched her fists. She didn't want to be patient this time.
---
The next morning, Kai skipped the standard drills and went straight to the old course.
Evan was already there, sitting on the edge of the ninth green. No club, no ball — just staring into the distance like he was waiting for someone who'd never arrive.
Kai approached slowly. "I know you're sick."
Evan didn't react at first.
"You don't know anything," he whispered.
"Then tell me," Kai pushed. "Whatever it is, you're carrying it alone."
Evan's fists balled. His breathing caught, but he didn't look away from the horizon.
"Go back, Summers," he breathed. "I'm not a guy you want to get close to."
Kai stepped forward again.
"You don't get to decide that for me."
Then, finally, Evan turned to her, and his eyes this time weren't empty — they were filled with pain.
"It's terminal," he breathed.
Kai's breath caught.
Evan paced away again. "I knew when the accident happened. I… didn't lose just my sister. I lost my time."
Kai's throat closed.
He wasn't shutting her out because he disliked her — he was shutting her out from the inevitable.
Before she could speak, Evan stood up. "So, leave me alone. Please."
Kai's voice trembled. "I can't."
Their gazes met.
For a second, neither said anything.
Then Evan whispered, almost pleading, "Don't make this any more difficult than it is."
And with that, he disappeared into the forest, leaving Kai on the fairway, tears welling up in her eyes, alone under the willows.