At first, it was just tutoring. Sofia helped me with my homework every weekend, and I hated how much I needed her. But there was something about her, the way she sat so close, explaining things like it was nothing. I hated that I needed her—but even worse, I hated how much I liked her being around.

By the second month, it wasn’t just tutoring anymore. She started noticing the mess in the house. I didn’t say anything, but she just started picking up, like it was normal. My dad was always out, and my little brother was running around in his dirty diaper. She didn’t say anything about it, just quietly cleaned up. I never told her to stop—it was like she was taking care of everything. And I let her.

She’d buy groceries with her own money, make lunch. I’d argue with her, tell her not to bother, but she’d just smile, ignoring me. It made me feel something I didn’t want to feel—something too strong. I hated how easily she made herself at home, how natural it seemed for her to be around me. I wanted her to stay, but I also hated it.

One night, we were lying on my bed, watching a movie. My brother was in her lap, and she was combing his hair. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Her fingers moved through his hair, slow and soft, like she was holding the world in her hands. Her leg brushed against mine, and for a second, I forgot to breathe.

I watched her, unable to look away. The way she smiled at him, the way her body was so close to mine, her knee against my thigh. It made my heart race, my breath heavier. She was too close, but I couldn’t make her stop. I didn’t want her to stop.

I kept telling myself it was just the movie, just my brother, just an innocent moment. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that she was everything I wanted. Her warmth, her touch... It was overwhelming. I wanted to be the one she smiled at, the one she took care of.

But she wasn’t mine. She never would be. And the tension was unbearable.I wanted to close the distance, make her see me the way I saw her. But I didn’t know if she felt the same.