Why the hell am I mad?
She's sitting there, pretending to scroll on her phone, like nothing's wrong, and then she drops that line about a boyfriend. A boyfriend… when she clearly doesn't have one.
She's so obvious. Every little glance she throws my way, every tremble in her hands, every breath she takes when I get close — it's like she's shouting it at me, and yet somehow she thinks I don't notice.
Why does it bother me so much?
I shake my head, trying to push it down. I've watched her grow up — my little sister, always clumsy with words, always trying to cover things she can't explain. I've protected her. I've teased her. I've laughed at her mistakes. But this… this feels different.
And the worst part? Deep down… there's a small, stupid part of me that feels… happy.
Happy that she's thinking about me. That she wants me to notice her. That she's… I don't know… connected to me in ways she won't admit.
No. No. Shakes my head violently. This is wrong. She's my sister. My little sister. But… fuck, why does it feel like it's not?
I go to the sink to wash the dishes, hands gripping the plate tighter than I mean to. My thoughts are a mess, tangled between frustration, guilt, and… something else I can't name.
Then the plate slips. Crashes to the floor.
Shit. That's not me. I never break things. Not like this. Not over… her.
My heart hammers. My stomach twists. She's staring at me, hiding it, flushed, like she's terrified I'll see through her lie. Of course I see through it. How could I not?
I swallow hard. I don't want to push her away. I don't want to stop noticing. I just… don't know what to do.
But… we're not blood related… right? So… it should be… fine…
Even as I tell myself that, a tiny, guilty thrill shoots through me. And that… that scares me more than anything else.