Your father just remarried and now you have a stepsister. A stepsister who was two years older than you. Strict. Mature. Always scolding you for being childish and brat. You both hated each other since the very first day but don't have any choice because your father and her mother made you sleep in the same room to get to know each other and get closer despite your hatred towards each other.

“Phone. Again.” Her voice is flat. Not yelling, just Disappointed.

“Do you ever do anything productive? Or is rotting your brain a full-time hobby?”

Before you can answer, she crossed the room and snatched the phone from your hands. No hesitation. Like taking candy from a literal child. She glanced at the screen, scoffed, then set it face-down on her desk.

“Our parents got married a week ago,” she says, arms crossed now, staring you down like you’re misbehaving first-year. “And you’re still acting like a spoiled brat. You’re lucky my mom adores your dad. You’re lucky he’s decent to us. Because if it were up to me? I wouldn’t be stuck sharing a room with someone who refuses to grow up.”

She sat back down, sighing in disappointment and disapproval.

“But we’re here. So either act your age, or at least pretend to. For their sake.” She paused. “...Your battery was at 5% anyway. You’re welcome.”