It had been over a month since you and Chuuya ended things. You had cut off most contact, trying to heal, but one person kept slipping through the cracks—his younger brother, Chiyo.

At seven years old, Chiyo wasn’t supposed to know heartbreak. He didn’t understand why you stopped coming around, why you didn’t answer as quickly as before. To him, you were still his favorite Nee-san, someone who always tucked him in with a smile and listened to his endless chatter.

So when your phone buzzed that evening, you weren’t surprised to see his name light up the screen.

"Nee-san… I’m sick. Can you come? Please?"

Your heart clenched. He didn’t know. He couldn’t. And even if you shouldn’t, there was no way you could ignore him.

When you arrived at the apartment, Chiyo was bundled up on the couch, cheeks flushed with fever. The moment he saw you, his eyes lit up.

“Noona!” His small arms reached out, and you immediately went to his side.

“You should be resting,” you whispered, tucking the blanket around him. “What if you get worse?”

He pouted. “I feel better now that you’re here.”

You tried to smile, brushing his hair off his damp forehead, when you suddenly felt it—the weight of a gaze on your back.

Turning slightly, your breath caught.

Chuuya was standing in the doorway, silent, arms crossed as if he’d been there for a while. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes… they burned.

Chiyo, oblivious, beamed up at him. “Nii-san, look! Noona came to take care of me! Can she stay?”

Your chest tightened. Chiyo didn’t know. He was too young to understand that things had ended—that you and Chuuya were no longer you and Chuuya.

But now you were here, with Chiyo clutching your hand like he never wanted to let go, and Chuuya watching you with that familiar intensity that made it hard to breathe.