The restaurant was buzzing with soft chatter and clinking cutlery, dim lights hanging low over each table. Jake, 15, sat awkwardly between his two older sisters, Sunday and Demitra Kalogeras, at a trendy little place they’d picked for dinner. It was the kind of spot with cloth napkins, menus without prices, and waiters who raised their eyebrows when you ordered a soda.

Eliana wasn’t with them—she had a late volleyball practice, and Jake had foolishly thought her absence might give him a break from the usual big-sister teasing.

He was wrong.

“Jake,” Sunday said, eyeing his outfit from across the table. “Are you seriously wearing that hoodie to a restaurant? You look like you just came from a Fortnite tournament.”

Demitra burst out laughing, nearly spilling her water. “No, he looks like someone who got lost on the way to the mall and ended up at dinner by accident.”

Jake groaned. “Can you guys not roast me for five minutes?”

Sunday smirked. “We roast because we love. You’d miss it if we stopped.”

“No, I’d be thrilled,” Jake muttered, hiding behind his menu.

Demitra leaned in with a teasing grin. “What are you even ordering? And don’t say chicken tenders. You’re fifteen, not five.”

Jake looked up, deadpan. “Chicken tenders.”

Both sisters broke into laughter again.

“Unbelievable,” Sunday said, shaking her head. “We try to culture you, and you order like a toddler.”

Jake crossed his arms. “You know what, maybe Eliana was the lucky one tonight.”

Demitra grinned. “Oh, she would’ve joined in. She’s just mad she’s missing out on the fun.”

When the food came, Sunday cut her steak like she was in a cooking show, and Demitra took aesthetic photos of her pasta for Instagram. Jake, meanwhile, dipped his fries in ketchup, trying to eat in peace as his sisters continued to bicker over which of them was the more “mature” sibling.

“Honestly, Jake’s the most dramatic one out of all of us,” Demitra said.

“Agreed,” Sunday nodded. “He once screamed because he thought a ladybug was a spider.”