"But she doesn't need a degree now," James interjected. "She has immediate opportunities forβ"
"She needs the foundation," Dr. Martinez said firmly. "Yes, Maya is talented, extraordinarily so, but she's also young and hasn't performed professionally in years. Throwing her into the spotlight without support or preparation would be irresponsible. She needs technique refinement, performance coaching, repertoire development. She needs to be surrounded by other musicians, by mentors, by people who understand this world."
Angela nodded slowly. "Actually, I think Dr. Martinez has a point. Maya, if you go back to school while selectively taking performance opportunities, you're building a sustainable career. If you just chase the viral moment, you'll burn out fast, and when public attention moves on, you'll have nothing to fall back on."
Maya looked between the three of them, feeling overwhelmed. They all made sense. They all seemed to genuinely want what was best for her. But they all wanted different things, and she had no idea how to choose.
"Can I think about this?" she asked.
"Of course," Dr. Martinez said, at the same time that James said, "How long do you need?"
Maya stood up abruptly. "I need air. I'm sorry. This is all just... it's too much."
She walked out of the coffee shop, leaving the three professionals staring after her.
Outside, she gulped in deep breaths of cool air, trying to calm her racing heart. A week ago, her biggest concern had been whether she'd have enough tip money to buy groceries. Now she had people fighting over her future like she was some kind of prize to be won.
Her phone buzzed: a text from her mother. How's the meeting going, honey?
Maya called her instead of texting back. Her mother answered immediately.
"I walked out," Maya said without preamble.