The Closest Stranger

"The Closest Stranger"

"I don't want to be just your brother anymore."

That night, I brought my new boyfriend home for dinner. After the meal, Ethan knocked on my door. Before I could react, he pinned me against the doorframe, leaned down until his forehead touched mine, and spoke in a low, husky voice.

"A year ago, you asked me a question. I can give you the answer now."

My heart hammered against my ribs.

"Didn't you love trailing after me? The clothes you're wearing are mine. Your scent is mine. Even your heart belongs to me. So why are you with someone else?"

His fingers wound around a strand of hair by my ear, his thumb brushing softly across my cheek.

"Claire. I don't want to be your brother anymore."

---

1.

My name is Claire. Ethan is my brother in name only. We share neither a father nor a mother, yet we both happen to be surnamed Ashford. To put it simply, both of my mother's husbands were named Ashford. During all those years when Ethan barely acknowledged my existence, I clung stubbornly to that coincidence, as if it meant we were bound by blood, an unbreakable tie.

At fifteen, I left a damp, rundown rental apartment. My mother led me into a vast, unfamiliar house—my new home.

I met my new father, Samuel. He beamed, tousled my hair, and showed me to my room. Looking back now, there was something almost ingratiating in that smile, but to me at the time, everything in that room was as exquisite as a princess's chamber in a fairy tale. While Samuel was explaining how to use the water heater, I stared blankly at his moving lips, my heart swelling with joy—no more boiling water in the communal kitchen, no more hauling heavy buckets upstairs for a bath.

I said a stiff "Thank you, sir." Samuel just smiled knowingly, as if he wasn't in a hurry to make me call him Dad. My mother gave a few instructions and left with him.

The moment they were gone, I lunged onto my new bed, sinking into what felt like a beautiful dream. I stared at the pink canopy for so long that I didn't notice when a figure appeared in the doorway.

That was the first time I saw Ethan.

I froze, too scared to move, like a thief caught in someone else's house. I only dared to steal glances at him from the corner of my eye.

He was stunning—tall and lean, more striking than any boy at school. One hand propped against the doorframe, the other holding a basketball. He stood there for a moment before asking who I was and why I was in his house.

I scrambled up and answered nervously.

"I'm Claire. My mother is Rose. Mr. Samuel said this is my room."

He seemed to think for a few seconds, then stepped forward, pushed aside the canopy, sat on my bed, and leaned in to study me.

"So Rose is my wicked stepmother, and you're the random sister I've suddenly acquired."

I was genuinely offended. "My mother is not wicked."

"Hah." Having gotten what he wanted, he rose with a bored air. "Sorry."

With that dismissive "sorry," he walked out of my room without even telling me his name. A second later, a door slammed shut from another room. I stood there, stunned, unable to accept the fact that I'd suddenly gained a brother—even if he did fit my teenage fantasies perfectly.

---

2.

At dinner, the four of us sat together. Samuel introduced us one by one. "This is your Aunt Rose, the one I told you about. From now on, she and I will take care of you together."

My mother smiled warmly and called him "Ethan."

He just gave a vague grunt and kept his head down, shoveling food into his mouth.

"And this is Claire, Aunt Rose's daughter. She'll be your sister. Next semester, she's transferring to your high school. You'll need to look out for her."

Ethan lifted his head, glanced at me, and answered flatly, "Got it. I'm done. Going to my room." He set down his bowl and left.

I watched his retreating back, sensing he didn't really like me. But that was fine. It didn't matter.

In the days that followed, I barely saw Ethan. After moving in, my mother shed her usual frugality and signed me up for a slew of prep courses and hobby classes. The heavy workload consumed my summer break. I only saw him at meals, and he always ate quickly, as if afraid to spend an extra second with us.

Later, once I'd settled into the new life, I even stopped seeing much of my mother. Samuel's construction factory was far from home, and accidents on site were common. To save time, she and Samuel stayed overnight in the factory's break room after work.

Before leaving, she told me, "From now on, since there won't be any adults at home, you'll cook for your brother. I taught you how back in the old apartment."

She added, "This good life is our fortune. Don't act like a spoiled princess. Get close to your brother. He's an excellent student. You need to learn to align yourself with the right people."

So, on the first night when it was just Ethan and me, I took over the kitchen. I opened the fridge to find vegetables, meat, and eggs. Plenty of ingredients. I felt confident and got started.

Ten minutes later, the kitchen was a disaster zone. Scallions, ginger, and garlic hung from the ceiling beams.

I stared at the blackened, burnt eggs, hesitated, then trudged to Ethan's door with a grim face. I knocked, saw his puzzled expression, and delivered the line I'd rehearsed in my head several times.

"Brother, can you help me cook?"

It was the first time I'd called him that.

---

3.

He raised an eyebrow at my request. I couldn't read his expression as I followed him back to the kitchen. He stood silently, surveying the mess on the floor, and was speechless for a moment before saying, "It takes real talent to wreck a kitchen this badly."

Embarrassed, I moved to clean up—at least wash the pan. He stretched his arm across me, grabbed the back of my collar, and gently pulled me back, meaning I should stay out of his way.

"Please, spare your noble hands, Your Highness. Just watch from the sidelines."

A sudden surge of joy hit me. I didn't know if it was because he'd spoken more than a few words to me today or something else. But watching him work with practiced ease, his expression blank, fireworks bloomed slowly in my chest.

Boil water, wash vegetables, drop in noodles, crack an egg, season. A few minutes later, Ethan and I sat across from each other at the table, two steaming bowls of egg noodles between us. They tasted predictably good.

The table was still silent. Ethan focused on his noodles, making no effort to talk to me, as if his earlier teasing had never happened. I felt a pang of disappointment, but I was too shy to speak. Compliments stuck in my throat. After a long hesitation, I finally mumbled.

"How did you learn to cook noodles like this? It's amazing."

"?"

He paused, seeming unwilling to engage, but answered out of politeness.

"Isn't it just common sense?"

"...Yeah."

Now it was my turn to fall silent.

Before leaving the table, he tilted his chin toward the empty bowls. "I assume Her Highness can handle washing the dishes?"

I nodded frantically.

"Good. Wash them. And don't break any." As he passed me, he stopped briefly. "Why didn't you call me 'brother' just now?"

I blinked, looking into his eyes, and softly said, "Brother."

He looked back at me, a faint smile tugging at his lips, then went to his room.

---

4.

The holiday flew by, and school started.

My new high school was the same one Ethan attended—the city's top public school, with boarding. It was my first time living away from home, and I was resistant. Group living made me uncomfortable, and I lacked the confidence to navigate new situations.

My mother was worried. The day before I left, she fussed over packing my supplies, then knocked on Ethan's door with a fruit plate. I peeked from around the corner.

"Ethan, have some fruit."

"No, thank you."

He declined politely.

"It's like this. Claire's starting high school, and she's never lived away from home before. I was hoping you could look out for her."

I couldn't see my mother's expression from that angle, but I could see Ethan's. My heart tightened. I had a bit of a people-pleasing personality, and I hated being a burden—especially to Ethan. I didn't want him to dislike me.

I tried to catch a flicker of annoyance on his face. There wasn't any. He just looked indifferent, as if he'd been asked to pass someone a trivial item.

He said, "Okay." He waited a moment to see if my mother had anything else to say, then closed the door.

What did "okay" mean?

No matter how much I wondered, I slept soundly that night. It felt like a safe landing, yet also like floating on clouds.

The first thing at school was a week of military-style training. My life became a monotonous triangle of the sports field, the dormitory, and the cafeteria. Outgoing kids quickly stood out in group activities, while I lingered on the edges, watching in silence.

One night during a dorm chat, while I was writing in my training journal, the conversation turned to family. I thought for a moment and said, "I have a brother. He's at this school, in sophomore year."

The dorm erupted. Having a brother seemed to be the most enviable thing. But the truth was, Ethan probably didn't see me as a sister. He always called me "Claire" without a hint of warmth.

I felt a little sad. Three days into school, and I hadn't seen him. I knew his casual "okay" was just a way to end the conversation, to shut the door my mother had opened. Still, I was disappointed. I secretly hoped to run into him. When I snapped back to reality, I'd filled my journal page with the word "brother."

I tore it out.

---

5.

Finally, on the fifth day, I saw him.

I was walking back to the dorm from the cafeteria, slowly eating an apple. As I passed the basketball court, I habitually glanced at the darting figures. A shout of "Watch out!" came from somewhere, and a basketball arced toward me. Before I could react, it slammed into my temple. Everything went black. The world spun. A searing pain hit me, and I spat out the half-chewed apple into my hand. Tears streamed down my face uncontrollably.

I stumbled and fell, clutching my temple, utterly dazed.

"Are you okay?!"

"I'm so sorry!"

"Can you stand?"

A few people gathered around me, their voices a blur. I couldn't hear or see clearly. I just kept my head down.

"Claire?"

One voice cut through the noise. I looked up, tears still falling, struggling to focus on the face before me.

"You okay?"

Ethan's face came into view. I looked at him, and a tsunami crashed through my chest. All the委屈 and misery I'd bottled up over the past few days broke loose, and I cried in front of him. There was no real reason for it. My classmates were nice, the teachers were nice, everything was moving forward smoothly. But seeing Ethan's face, I just felt miserable.

I choked out, "Brother, it hurts."

He froze. "I'll take you to the infirmary." He pulled my arm over his shoulder, turned around, and crouched in front of me. I looped my arms around his neck and let myself fall onto his back.

On the way to the infirmary, I pressed my cheek against the back of his neck, sniffling.

"Stop crying. Does it still hurt?"

"It really hurts..."

He turned his head slightly. "Bear with it. You should watch where you're going."

I wanted to argue, but the words died in my throat. I rested my chin on his shoulder and said sullenly, "I was looking for you, but I didn't know which class you were in. I passed the court to see if you were playing. Besides, could you really dodge a ball just by watching where you're going?"

Ethan sounded exasperated. "I'm in Class One. The building right next to yours."

The science building was next door. Class One was one of the elite classes per grade. My heart lifted. At least now I knew where he was.

At the infirmary, the school nurse checked my wound, gave me some medicine for bruising, and handed me a warm towel for a compress. As I reached for it, Ethan took it first.

"I'll do it."

He pressed the warm towel against my temple, his fingers gently massaging. His touch was tender, but his expression was calm.

He looked at me. I didn't know if he realized how awkward this atmosphere was, but as long as I wasn't embarrassed, he would be.

After a moment, he broke the silence. "You really did get darker."

"..." I was speechless. "Don't rub it in."

I tried to find a topic. "Brother, were you playing ball this afternoon?"

"Yeah."

"Do you play every day?"

Ethan looked at me oddly. "Occasionally. Why? Want to bring me water?"

I tilted my head. I wouldn't mind.

"Better not. Stay out of the way. If you get hit again, you can crawl to the infirmary yourself."

He said it in a flat tone, but it made me happy. The awkward fog lifted.

Ethan and I weren't really siblings. Our families had merged into one. To me, I was more like a guest in his house. There was distance, formality, not closeness. The occasional "brother" was only said when the situation demanded. Most of the time, I didn't dare call him that.

I looked at his face, trying not to say the word, but another sentence slipped out.

"Can I come find you when I want to see you?"

---

6.

Ethan stared at me, then suddenly laughed—a laugh I couldn't read.

"May I ask what you're thinking?"

My heart skipped a beat.

What was I thinking? I wanted to see him. Every day.

I looked into his eyes. His expression was light, almost innocent, as if he were asking a simple question like what one plus one equals.

"I want to see my brother." I covered my wound and looked away. "I told my classmates I have a brother. He's a sophomore."

I turned my gaze back to his face. "Aren't you my brother?"

Ethan raised an eyebrow and leaned in slightly. "So I am your brother?"

My nose stung. I turned my head away, not wanting to look at him anymore. At that moment, I wanted to bow and apologize. I'm sorry for being so presumptuous. Let me drink three cups as punishment.

I opened my mouth, but no words came. Then Ethan's hand landed on my head and ruffled my hair playfully.

"Take care of that wound. Don't bump it again." He stood up, looking down at me. "Come if you want. I'm heading back to class."

I nodded dumbly. If I were a dog, I'd be wagging my tail. I watched his retreating figure and whispered in my heart, "Brother."

After the uneventful training, my freshman year began. I occasionally wanted to visit Ethan, but I never had a good reason. Did a sister need a reason to see her brother? But was Ethan really my brother? He said I could come if I wanted. I didn't take it seriously. That was just how he was—always indifferent, always in control. His words always seemed light, yet they carried weight.

At the end of the first month, on a Friday, I finally stood outside the door of Class One, sophomore year. I wanted to go home with Ethan.

Their class wasn't dismissed yet. I didn't dare peek inside, so I just waited. When the classroom finally buzzed with noise, I leaned against the windowsill, searching for him. He was easy to spot.

I saw him, slouched against a desk, stuffing test papers into his bag. I lightly tapped the shoulder of the nearest girl. "Excuse me, can you call Ethan for me?"

"Excuse me?"

The girl turned around. She was pretty—just the right amount of innocence without being overly polished. But she looked at me strangely. "You're a freshman? What do you want with him?"

I was at a loss for how to explain. I didn't think Ethan would want to acknowledge his random new sister.

Just then, Ethan spotted me. I waved at him.

He nodded, slung his bag over one shoulder, and walked out toward me.

The girl saw him and patted his shoulder familiarly. "It's my birthday this weekend. You said you'd come."

"Yeah, yeah, enough already."

"By the way, some girl was looking for you... Oh, it's her." She pointed at me. "Who's this?"

Ethan walked up to me and casually draped an arm around my shoulder.

He said, "She's my sister."

---

7.

My heart raced.

Ethan looked down at me after he said it. I blinked and smiled.

"Since when did you have a sister? I didn't know."

"Are you supposed to know everything?" He shot the girl a sideways glance. "I'm off. See you."

"Hey, sis, do you want to come tomorrow?" The girl's eyes sparkled. "I'm Luna. It's my birthday tomorrow. Want to come sing karaoke?"

I was overwhelmed by her sudden warmth. I looked at Ethan. He asked, "Do you want to go?"

It felt like he was standing at the door of his world, asking if I wanted to come in.

I said, "Yes."

He nodded. "Then we'll go."

When we got home, Ethan and I went to our separate rooms. My mother grabbed my hand and asked how I was, if I was adjusting. I answered her one by one. The door was open, and I could hear Samuel talking quietly with Ethan.

That night, it was just Ethan and me again. After hesitating, I knocked on his door.

When he opened it, I was stunned speechless. He had clearly just showered. A towel hung around his neck, his hair was dripping wet, and his torso was bare.

"What's up?"

I snapped out of it, flustered. "Oh, I was just wondering if I need to prepare a gift for Luna's birthday party tomorrow."

"Up to you." He started to close the door, then paused. "Anything else?"

"No." He nodded and shut the door.

I lay in bed. The nightlight cast a faint glow through the bed canopy. I reached out, trying to catch that sliver of light, as if grabbing an entry ticket.

The next day, Ethan and I headed to the karaoke place at the mall, on the fourth floor.

As the elevator reached the third floor, I said to Ethan, "Go on up. I'll buy a gift."

He gave a slight nod and held the door for me.

I browsed for a while. When I finally pushed open the karaoke room door, I saw Ethan and Luna singing a duet into the microphones. A bunch of unfamiliar faces were cheering and howling.

My spirits sank.

Heads turned toward me, curious. Being the center of attention made me uncomfortable.

Ethan waved me over.

"Ethan, bringing your girlfriend?" a guy in a black tank top teased.

"She's my sister," Ethan said again.

"Oh! Family! Gotta keep her close!" someone else laughed.

I handed Luna the gift bag. "Happy birthday, Luna."

"Thanks, sis~" She smiled sweetly, her eyes crinkling. "Sit down and grab something to eat."

I sat down next to Ethan. The unfamiliar, boisterous atmosphere made me tense. I stuck close to him, figuring I wouldn't get lost that way.

Soon, while some were still singing, others started playing dice at the table, drinking round after round. Losers had to answer truth or dare.

The noise helped ease my awkwardness. I realized that in this crowd of old friends, no one would notice me. I slipped back into my role as an observer, resting my chin on my hand and idly playing with a bottle on the table.

"Hahaha! Drink! Tell us the most embarrassing thing you've ever done!" the guy in the black tank top shouted at someone in a blue polo.

"The most embarrassing thing is having you as my son!"

Everyone laughed. Ethan pushed aside my fidgeting hand and slid a glass of Sprite toward me. "Drink this."

I turned to look at him. Even when he was happy, he was subdued, a faint smile on his lips as he watched the commotion. He didn't look at me.

Bang, bang, bang, bang!

"Whoa! Finally, it's Ethan's turn!" The crowd erupted, as if they'd been waiting for this moment. Even the person singing came over with the microphone.

Ethan's smile widened, almost mischievously. He downed his beer in one gulp and wiped his mouth.

The questioner asked the most cliché yet most intriguing question.

"Who do you like?"

My heart stopped.

---

8.

The room fell into a brief silence after the question, then exploded into even wilder noise.

No one noticed me take a deep breath.

Ethan tapped his glass with his finger and said coolly, "I don't like anyone."

"That's not an answer! Penalty!" The crowd protested.

"Isn't this supposed to be truth?" Ethan looked even more innocent.

Still, they jeered and demanded he accept a punishment. The weight lifted from my chest, and I joined in the schadenfreude.

"Fine, fine." He looked resigned.

"Then pick any girl here and give her a kiss~" The questioner was clearly up to no good. The onlookers were thrilled. My eyes widened, my heart pounding against my ribs.

Maybe it was my imagination, but Ethan seemed to sense something. He turned his head and met my eyes. A corner of his mouth lifted.

"Hey, my sister's here. Don't go too far." He laughed, but his voice was cold.

"Fine, fine. You're off the hook this time."

Maybe they realized it was inappropriate. The teasing shifted. But Luna, still holding the microphone, suddenly spoke.

"Ethan, it's my birthday. Will you sing a song for me?" The dim light in the room made it hard to see, but I knew her face was red. She quickly added, "Consider it my birthday gift!"

Brother, don't.

I stared at her bright eyes, whispering in my heart.

"The birthday girl has spoken! Sing one, Ethan!" Assist number one chimed in.

"Yeah, sing!" Assist number two echoed.

Ethan singing for her. Did it mean something? Could it mean anything? Weren't they singing a duet when I walked in?

But I didn't want him to.

Ethan's expression remained unreadable. He was still smiling, but I selfishly thought it carried a hint of weariness. So, would he give in to the crowd again?

I picked up another microphone from the table, tapped it lightly, and looked at Luna with a small smile. "Luna, let me sing for you instead."

Ethan froze. Luna was taken aback. The room fell into a dead silence that didn't quickly revive. I knew I'd done something stupid. The awkwardness was suffocating. I instinctively wanted to flee.

But then Ethan stood up, walked over to Luna, and took the microphone from her hand. He looked at me and said, "Let's sing together."

I was saved. I saved him. He saved me.

---

9.

I picked a song I knew Ethan could sing. It was one of his favorite bands.

Ethan sang the first line. His voice was low, with a touch of huskiness, but he made it soft. "Do you truly understand the meaning of 'the one'? It's not as simple as breathing... I really hope you can figure it out. If we haven't opened our hearts, how can I explain..."

My body trembled. I could barely contain myself. I looked at him, my heart racing, my throat tight, and I sang the next line.

"I really love you. Every word isn't easy."

You're my brother. Your name is Ethan. My name is Claire. We're bound together for life. No one can compare.

Driven by an eerie默契, we sang line after line, seamlessly, perfectly.

By the end, I could barely see anyone else. I only saw my brother. I softly sang the last line. "You don't need to prove that I'm your one and only."

"Prove that I'm your one and only."

When the song ended, the room applauded, accompanied by a few whistles. Luna said a sweet "Thank you."

I felt weak in the knees, my throat dry. I sat back down next to Ethan, reaching for water, only to find him looking at me with a strange expression I couldn't decipher.

My heart inexplicably skipped a beat.

The party wound down. After saying our goodbyes, Ethan and I walked out of the mall. He hailed a taxi, and I followed him in.

We sat on opposite sides of the back seat, a wide gap between us. He asked casually, "Did you have fun today?"

"Well... a little boring, but still fun."

He suddenly turned to me, his face serious. "Why did you come with me today?"

Because it was a rare chance to be by your side without guilt.

My eyes flickered. I bit my lip. "Because you're my brother." After a pause, I added, "You know I don't have many friends here. But I wanted to go out too."

"Am I your brother?" His voice was flat.

What did that mean?

Ethan had admitted I was his sister twice in front of others. Now he was asking me again. But I'd learned to answer without flinching.

"Yes, you're my brother.

"Why else would you bring me today?"

I blinked at him. "Brother, I'm really happy.

"I'm your sister now, right?"

---

10.

I thought that after that night, I'd have my ticket into Ethan's world. But instead, he silently pushed me further away.

At meals, I'd steal glances at him. He just ate faster than before, never letting his eyes rest on me. As soon as he finished, he'd push back his chair and retreat to his room.

I'd help wash the dishes in the kitchen, pick up the fruit my mother had cut, and knock on Ethan's door as if it were my right.

"Brother, have some fruit. It's freshly cut." I smiled at him, trying to do what I thought a sister should do.

"Thanks." Without hesitation, he took a grape—I was sure he just grabbed whatever was closest—thanked me, and closed the door.

I stood there, fruit plate in hand, looking a bit foolish. My mother noticed and said, "What are you standing there for? Go study. I'm still simmering soup. You two come out later for some."

I nodded, hiding my disappointment, and went to my room.

Maybe I was distracted. I hadn't been studying long when my mother knocked for me to come out for soup. I said "Okay," and she headed toward Ethan's room.

I kept an ear out. After a few rounds of coaxing from my mother, Ethan came out.

He glanced at me, then looked away as if he hadn't seen me. He sat down, held the bowl with one hand, and drank slowly while scrolling through his phone, looking focused.

I wished he would say something. Finally, I couldn't hold back. "Brother, how are you getting back to school tomorrow?"

He seemed to just notice me. His eyes lifted from the phone to my face, expressionless. "By bike."

"Can I go with you?"

"..."

Silence again.

I mentally sentenced myself to death. I felt deflated. Why was talking to Ethan always so exhausting? I had a people-pleasing personality, but I wasn't socially clueless. I could tell he was even more distant than before.

Why? Because I went to his friend's birthday party? Because I grabbed the microphone? Did he really like Luna? Or was he unhappy that I'd barged into his world, reminding me I'd crossed a line?

I was lost in thought when Ethan spoke. "Don't you take the bus?"

"Yeah, but the bus takes forever. It only comes every twenty minutes. If I don't time it right, I'll be late."

Ethan stared at me. I half-expected him to ask, "So why don't you leave earlier?"

But he didn't.

He just nodded. "Okay."

I was happy again. All my doubts and worries vanished. At least he hadn't said no.

---

11.

The next day, Ethan knocked on my door for the first time.

I was brushing my hair. I thought it was my mother. I had a hair tie in my mouth, one hand holding up my ponytail, the other opening the door.

There he was, in his school uniform, leaning lazily against the doorframe, looking down at me. "Checking to see if Her Highness is ready. We should leave soon."

I nodded eagerly, grabbed my bag, changed shoes, and followed him out. We took the elevator to the garage, where he unlocked his bike.

He swung a leg over, gripped the handlebars, and turned his head. "Get on."

I sat on the back seat.

He pedaled slowly out of the complex, weaving through alleys and turning corners with ease. I had terrible balance. I gripped the small seat beneath me, trying to stay steady.

Then we hit a bump. My face slammed into Ethan's back, right against his spine. It hurt so much I yelped.

"Ow!"

He paused, braked gently, and stopped by the roadside. He put his feet down, turned around, and saw me clutching my face. He pulled my hand away, lifted my chin, and leaned in. "Where did you hit?"

I pointed at my nose. It really hurt!

He let go of my chin, then pinched my nose lightly, a hint of a smile in his eyes. "Still hurt?"

I shot him a glare and slapped his hand away. "It hurts so much! It's flattened!"

Ethan didn't flinch. He just said, "Then hold on tight to me," turned back, and kept riding.

With that permission, I stopped holding back. I wrapped my arms around his waist and pressed my cheek against his back. Maybe it was my imagination, but I felt his back stiffen.

I held onto Ethan, watching the traffic and the sunset, until we finally reached school.

It was near evening. The sun wasn't harsh, but my face was strangely hot. I didn't need a mirror to know it was flushed.

"Let's go." He locked the bike and glanced at me. No special reaction, no teasing. I told myself it was just the heat, that my face wasn't red. But my heart raced even more.

We walked side by side in silence toward the academic building. A voice called out from behind.

"Claire!" Both of us turned.

It was my roommate, Melody. I remembered her well—she was an art student, studying broadcasting. She had a striking voice, face, and figure. When she saw me and Ethan, she paused.

"Claire, let's go to class together. Who's this?" She jogged over and linked her arm through mine.

I wasn't good with overly friendly people. Awkwardly, I answered, "This is my brother."

"Oh! The one you mentioned in the dorm!"

She let out a little gasp. I felt even more awkward. I couldn't see Ethan's expression. He didn't say anything.

Melody beamed at Ethan. "Brother, you're so handsome."

---

12.

My chest tightened, a suffocating ache.

Who's your brother?

I turned to look at Ethan. He glanced back at me, raised an eyebrow, gave Melody a faint smile, and patted my head. "Let's go."

I nodded, dazed. We were becoming more like siblings. That was a good thing.

On the way back to class, Melody chattered endlessly. I found it annoying. At the stairwell, she stopped and looked at me with an earnest expression. "Claire, you don't mind if I pursue your brother, do you?"

I looked at her face, bathed in the golden sunset light. She was stunning.

But I laughed, knowing it was an ugly laugh. With equal seriousness, I said, "You won't succeed."

She paused, but didn't seem to take me seriously. She winked, smiled, said "We'll see," and turned to go upstairs.

I walked slowly, feeling a surreal detachment, then a wave of inexplicable panic, which slowly subsided into calm.

I told myself, there's nothing to be afraid of.

The days that followed were uneventful, not worth narrating. Ethan and I met occasionally, went home regularly. Life settled into a quiet rhythm.

Until one day, at home, just the two of us at the table, I casually asked, "Brother, did you sign up for any events at the sports meet?"

"50 meters, 1000 meters, relay."

"...Oh."

Impressive stamina.

Ethan looked up. "What about you?"

I answered honestly. "Long jump."

He feigned surprise. "That's impressive."

Not as impressive as you.

I felt a bit sheepish at his perfunctory compliment. "I'm just filling a spot for my class."

Ethan paused for a second, then laughed out loud. "Then be careful not to fall."

Friendly conversation. Warm atmosphere.

I poked at the rice in my bowl with my chopsticks, mashing it, rolling it into balls. "You know my constitution. I'm not cut out for long-distance running. I'll come cheer for you when you compete."

He answered simply. "Okay."

But on the day of his race, I realized he didn't lack for cheerleaders.

Ethan was at the check-in area, already surrounded by a crowd. Some familiar faces—Luna and the others from the karaoke party—and some strangers, both boys and girls.

I looked around, relieved not to see Melody. Then I felt annoyed at myself for caring.

Maybe it was just a joke to her. Taking it seriously would make me look stupid.

When Ethan stood at the starting line, the track was lined with people, all shouting for their favorites. I kept my eyes on him as he rotated his ankles, doing simple warm-ups. I didn't dare shout.

Then Melody's voice rang out. "Ethan! Go! You're the best!"

Her shrill voice cut through the noise. I looked at her. She was wearing a white dress, like a princess from the opening ceremony, complete with a tiny crown. She stood out among the sea of uniforms. A girl like that would naturally draw everyone's attention.

Her shout was like a bomb among Ethan's classmates. They joined in, cheering and teasing.

"Ethan! Your goddess is cheering for you!"

I tried to see Ethan, but before I could turn, the starting gun fired. A blur of figures shot past, leaving only a gust of wind. The cheering erupted, and the crowd jogged toward the finish line.

I kept my eyes locked on Ethan. Fifty meters was short. He crossed first. I didn't go over, but I saw Melody. She handed him a bottle of water.

---

13.

He took it. Maybe they said something. Maybe he remembered her from that day.

I didn't watch anymore. I turned and left. It was my turn to compete.

I walked toward the long jump pit. I was a last-minute substitute. Everyone in my class knew I'd come in last, so there was no pressure.

I stood on the runway. I ran. I jumped. I nearly face-planted into the sand pit. My foot twisted awkwardly.

Pain. Embarrassment. The distant cheers felt alien.

Maybe I was used to it. Maybe I looked too calm. No one seemed to notice anything wrong. They just accepted that I was out. I struggled to my feet, walked out of the pit, and the next competitor was announced.

I sat down outside the shelter to rest. I felt tired.

"Young hearts belong to sports. Young hearts belong to pursuit..."

The announcer's voice droned over the speakers. The bleachers were packed. The wind caught the hems of the runners' shirts as they sped by.

Youth. Passion. Glory.

And I just sat there, watching.

"Want some water?" Someone spoke to me.

I looked up. It was Colin, a classmate. He handed me a sports drink.

I was thirsty, but I didn't take it. I smiled. "No, thanks."

"The parent committee ordered it. The teacher told me to give it to the athletes. I figured you hadn't gotten one." He set the bottle on the ground in front of me and sat down beside me.

I was confused, but he spoke first. "I saw you twist your ankle. Doesn't it hurt?"

"It's fine. Not too bad." I accepted his concern politely.

He said softly, "You did great."

"Thanks," I whispered.

I knew I wasn't great.

Colin was talkative, but I didn't remember ever speaking to him before. We chatted idly, though he mostly carried the conversation.

He was handsome, with a gentle demeanor