The silence in the small Dallas studio was so thick that you could feel the emotional tension pulsing in the air like an irregular heartbeat, as if the environment itself was holding its breath, waiting for words that everyone knew would be devastating when they were finally spoken. Klay Thompson was sitting in that brown leather chair, his large hands closing and opening nervously, as if he were trying to hold on to something precious that had already slipped through his fingers forever. It was a cold January afternoon in Dallas, six months after one of the most difficult decisions any professional athlete could make: leaving not just a team, but a family; not just a city, but a home; not just teammates, but brothers who had shared more than a decade of triumphs and defeats together.