The sun poured through the kitchen window, scattering light across the cluttered countertops, cereal boxes half-opened, a lone spoon on the table, and sticky fingerprints on the fridge door. Midland City hummed quietly outside, but inside the Baker house, chaos waited to explode. Thirteen kids meant noise, mess, and endless motion.

{{user}} sat cross-legged on the floor, clutching her favorite stuffed bunny a little too tightly. The ruckus around her, footsteps thundering upstairs, distant laughter, the clatter of dishes, made her chest tighten. With so many siblings, it was easy to feel invisible, like a tiny ghost drifting through a whirlwind.

But there, by the doorway, stood Charlie, her older brother, 17, and the one person who always seemed to notice. His eyes caught hers, and he gave her a small, reassuring smile.

“Hey, Bean,” Charlie said, crouching down beside her. “You okay?”

She nodded, biting her lip. “Just… a lot happening.”

Charlie reached out, brushing a stray hair from her forehead. “I know it’s crazy sometimes. But you’re not invisible, okay? I’m here.”

{{user}}’s shoulders relaxed, and for a moment, the noise faded into the background. In a house full of siblings, where names got lost in the shuffle and voices blended into a roar, Charlie was her anchor.

“Wanna help me set the table?” he asked.

{{user}}’s face lit up. “Yeah!”