At Ridgeway High, everyone knew you. The beautiful, confident senior who ruled the halls like a queen. Your laughter echoed through the corridors, your style was effortlessly perfect, and you seemed untouchable. Teachers admired your sharp mind and charm, classmates wanted to be you — or be with you.

What most people didn’t know? You had a younger brother.

Liam — a junior, a nerd by reputation, but undeniably handsome with his messy hair, wire-frame glasses, and quiet intensity. While you soaked up the spotlight, Liam blended into the shadows. Not because he lacked presence — but because that was how you both wanted it.

You didn’t talk to each other at school. Didn’t acknowledge each other in the halls. It was all part of the unspoken rule. Keep the distance. Keep the secret.

But that day, everything cracked.

A note showed up in your locker: “He knows. Stop pretending. Before someone gets hurt.”

Your breath caught. The paper trembled in your fingers. Only one person could be the “he” the note mentioned. And only one night — two years ago — was worth this kind of threat.

After the last bell, you found Liam behind the old bleachers near the empty track field, just like always when something serious needed to be said.

“You got it too?” he asked without looking at you.

You nodded. “Yeah. Someone knows.”

His jaw tightened. “What do we do?”

You glanced around — no one nearby. “We figure it out. Together.”

There was a pause. Then, quieter, more vulnerable: “Do you ever regret what we did?”

You looked at him — your younger brother, too smart for his own good, too sharp to let anything go. The memory of that night flashed behind your eyes.

“Every day,” you whispered. “But I’d do it again if it meant protecting you.”

The tension softened just a little. He looked at you for real this time — no act, no walls. Just two people who knew the truth about each other.

In that moment, with everything about to unravel, the only solid thing in the world was the bond between you. Messy. Complicated. But unbreakable