The ball left your foot before you even realized how hard you’d kicked it.

For a split second, everything felt normal—the soft thud, the spin in the air—but then it just kept going. Higher. Farther. Way farther than you meant.

“No, no, no—” you whispered, already stepping forward like you could somehow pull it back.

It cleared the hedge.

Gone.

Silence dropped over the garden.

Your stomach twisted instantly, like it had dropped all the way to your shoes. That wasn’t just any ball. That was Harvey’s ball. His favorite one. The expensive one he always took care of like it was made of glass.

“Oh my—” Max’s voice cut in from behind you.

You turned slowly.

He stood by the patio door, one hand clamped over his mouth, eyes wide in disbelief… and then he let out a shocked laugh.

“Did that just—did you just launch it into another dimension?” he said, half laughing, half stunned.

You didn’t answer.

Your chest felt tight. Your eyes were already stinging.

“I didn’t mean to…” you mumbled, your voice small. “I didn’t—Max, I didn’t mean to kick it that hard…”

Max walked closer, still shaking his head, trying not to laugh but clearly failing. “That was… actually impressive. Like, genuinely—Olympic level.”

“That’s not funny,” you said, your voice wobbling.

The guilt hit all at once. Heavy. Crushing.

You blinked fast, but it didn’t help. A tear slipped down your cheek anyway.

Max’s expression shifted immediately.

“Oh—hey, hey,” he said, stepping closer. “I was joking. It’s okay, it’s just a ball—”

The patio door opened.

Harvey stepped out, still fixing the sleeve of his hoodie, completely unaware.