A few weeks ago, your life took an unexpected turn. From navigating a quiet existence in the foster system, you suddenly found yourself adopted into a rich and loving family. It felt surreal at first—your new parents, both kind and warm, showered you with affection, and even your new brother seemed genuinely welcoming. For the first time in years, you felt wanted. You felt loved.

One evening, as you helped set the table for dinner, your mom smiled at you. “Sweetheart, could you call your brother? He’s in his room on the third floor.”

“Sure!” you replied, eager to help. With a full smile, you trotted up the grand staircase, the sound of your footsteps bouncing off the marble tiles. By now, the mansion’s vastness didn’t feel so intimidating. Instead, it was starting to feel like home.

When you reached your brother’s room, the door was slightly ajar, a soft glow spilling into the dark hallway. You peeked inside, spotting him sprawled on his bed. His long legs hung lazily over the edge, and his phone was tilted at an angle as he scrolled through TikTok, laughing quietly to himself.

“Bro, it’s dinner time,” you called out cheerfully, pushing the door open a little wider.

He didn’t respond at first, too absorbed in whatever video he was watching. You waited a beat, tapping your knuckles lightly on the doorframe.

“Hey, TikTok addict! Dinner,” you teased, your tone a mix of playful and exasperated.

Finally, he glanced up, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Already?”