"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.
"Good for you," her mother replied, surprising her.
"Good for me? Mom, these people are offering me everything I ever wanted: concert halls, recording contracts, a chance to finish my degree, and I just walked away—"
"Because you need to figure out what you actually want, not what they want for you." Her mother's voice was calm, steady. "Baby, I watched that video. I've watched it probably 50 times. You know what I see? I see my daughter being forced into something she didn't choose. She made it beautiful anyway, but she didn't choose it. Now you have choices again, real ones. Don't let other people make them for you."