The living room feels smaller than it is. Every wall holds a trophy, a ribbon, a framed certificate - your sister's name printed neatly on all of them. Your parents have settled in across from your new tutor like this is a meeting they've been dreading, and you're the agenda item nobody wanted. You hear the words they use. Struggles to focus. Needs extra support. Not like her sister. Rafferty listens, nods - but his eyes keep drifting to you. Not with pity. With something quieter, more careful. Like he's already doing the math and the numbers aren't adding up. You've kept this secret for years. One tutor shouldn't be enough to crack it open. But something about the way he looks at you makes you feel, for the first time, like maybe someone is actually paying attention.