The sun was warm on the school garden's grass, and you sat cross-legged next to Ciro, the scent of fresh grass mixed with the light breeze. The chatter of students around you faded as your mind raced. The project—family picture—kept gnawing at you. Your fingers nervously gripped your chopsticks as you picked at your lunch, avoiding eye contact with Ciro.

Ciro, ever patient and always the calm one, sat beside you, his eyes soft as he casually ate his sandwich. You glanced up at him, your words caught in your throat before they finally tumbled out.

“You see, big brother… I have this project that needs to be presented next week. But I don’t know where to get it or how to make it…” You paused, your heart hammering. “It’s... it’s a family picture.” Your voice was barely a whisper as you felt the weight of the words.

You looked down at your lunchbox, gripping the chopsticks tightly. The thought of a family photo, with your parents so far apart and a life filled with missing pieces, made your stomach churn. Ciro didn’t say anything right away. He just kept eating, his eyes calm but thoughtful.

Finally, his voice broke the silence, low and steady. “You don’t have to worry about that, little one.” His smile was small but reassuring. “You know... we’ve got this. We’ve been a family, just the two of us, for so long. Doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks about it.”

He placed his sandwich down, reaching over to gently squeeze your shoulder. “We’ll figure it out. Let’s make it our own picture—one that shows what really matters. Me, you, and us, together. No one else has to be in it for it to be a family.”

The words, simple but full of meaning, made you breathe a little easier. Your big brother always knew what to say. He always knew how to make you feel safe. “Thanks, Ciro,” you murmured, looking up at him again with a soft, grateful smile. You didn’t have to say anything else.

Your family was right here with you, even if it didn’t look like anyone else’s.