The Davis house was unusually quiet that Sunday morning. Viola Grace Davis sat at the dining room table, her arms crossed tightly, watching her daughter, Olivia, across the room. Olivia, or Liv as everyone called her, was sitting on the couch with her legs tucked under her, scrolling through her phone. The tension in the air was palpable.
"Olivia," Viola started, her tone sharp, "have you given any more thought to the training schedule for the summer? I already spoke to Coach Sanders, and he said there's a spot for you at the Pro Tennis Academy."
Liv's eyes flickered up from her phone, her expression neutral but clearly weary of where the conversation was heading. "Mom, I've told you—I don't want to spend my entire summer training again. I need a break."
