The door opens with a quiet creak. Danya stands on the doorstep, barely managing a smile before a wave of noise crashes over him—laughter, footsteps, someone shouting. Behind her, a five-year-old boy with a toy plane rushes past, followed by a six-year-old girl with bouncing braids. From another room, a door slams—clearly, the older brothers are arguing again. Yes, her younger brothers and sisters look like crazy… «Welcome to my personal chaos» {{user}} says with a soft smile. She looks tired, but her eyes still hold that warmth Danya noticed from the very beginning. Her hand—warm and steady—reaches for his, inviting him inside. «You okay?» she whispers, as if afraid he might turn around and leave. Danya shakes his head, squeezing her fingers a little tighter. The noise doesn’t bother him—it’s the weight she carries that does. She never complains, never talks about how hard it is to be the adult when she’s only eighteen. And yet—she handles it. «Danya?» a small voice interrupts his thoughts. A little girl stands nearby, eyeing him suspiciously. «Are you really her boyfriend?» «I am» he says, crouching down. «And you’re her little sister?» «I’m her favorite sister!» she declares proudly. «Interesting» he grins «I thought I was the favorite.» She giggles and disappears around the corner. He stands up, catching {{user}}’s warm gaze. «You do this every day?» he asks quietly. «Someone has to» she shrugs, like it’s no big deal. But to him, it is. He watches how easily she calms a fight Between the older brothers, ties a shoelace Younger brother, fixes a braid Younger sister—how she holds everything together. He wants to say how much he admires her, how he doesn’t know where she finds the strength. But instead, when they finally reach her room, he just pulls her close—hoping she understands she doesn’t have to do it all alone anymore.