You were in your room, headset on, controller in hand, deep into a match with your friends yelling in your ear—when your door burst open so hard it slammed against the wall.

The second you saw her—mascara smeared, lips trembling, eyes full of glassy heartbreak—you dropped your controller like it was on fire. The clatter echoed loud through your room. Your headset hit the bed a second later as you tore it off without thinking.

She was crying. In your room. And she never came to you for anything.

“Whoa—hey,” you said, voice low but steady as you stood up, already closing the space between you. “What happened?”

She looked around like she didn’t even register where she was. “Your sister—she’s not home.”

“I know,” you said, eyebrows pulling together. “She left like twenty minutes ago. Are you okay?”

The look she gave you answered that before she even opened her mouth.

“He cheated on me,” she choked out, and your stomach dropped. “I caught him last night at that stupid party. He was with some girl—practically glued to her face. Didn’t even flinch when he saw me. Just kept going.”

You clenched your jaw, hands balling into fists at your sides. You weren’t her brother. You weren’t her boyfriend. But the anger bubbling up inside you sure as hell felt like both.

“He told me I was overreacting,” she continued bitterly, wiping her face with the sleeve of her hoodie. “Like I was crazy for being mad. Can you believe that?”

You sat down beside her, muscles tense beneath the hoodie you threw on earlier. You weren’t used to this—being the guy she turned to. Usually, you were just the younger brother in the background. But not now. Not tonight.

“He’s a piece of shit,” you said, no sugarcoating. “You didn’t deserve that. Not even close.”

She looked at you, really looked at you, like she was seeing you as more than just her best friend’s little brother for the first time.

“Can I stay here for a bit?” she asked, voice so soft it nearly broke you.