It was late Saturday morning when Vivi, still half-asleep but determined, dragged her 13-year-old little brother to the gym. She had been talking about getting him into a “better routine” for weeks, and today, she finally made it happen.

Vivi, in her sleek black leggings and a cropped hoodie, had her hair tossed up in a messy bun, looking every bit the effortlessly cool 16-year-old she was. Her brother trailed behind her in a hoodie and gym shorts, trying to act like he wasn’t secretly excited to be hanging out with her.

As soon as they walked in, Vivi tossed him a water bottle. “Alright, tiny human,” she said with a smirk, hands on her hips. “We’re not just walking around pretending we’re working out. Today, you’re actually doing stuff.”

He rolled his eyes, muttering, “Yeah, yeah, coach Vivi,” under his breath. She caught it and flicked his ear playfully, making him laugh.

First, Vivi made him hop on the treadmill next to her. She kept turning her head dramatically to check if he was still running, teasing him whenever he slowed down. “Come on! You said you could outrun me! This is embarrassing,” she whispered loud enough for a few people nearby to chuckle.

After cardio, they moved to weights — or more like, she lifted real ones while he struggled with the smallest dumbbells. Every time he grunted dramatically lifting a ten-pounder, Vivi clutched her stomach laughing. “You’re literally acting like you’re lifting a car,” she teased, snapping a video to save for later blackmail.

Despite the teasing, she was patient, showing him how to do proper squats and explaining machines in a way that actually made it fun. She wasn’t just bossy — she made him feel like he belonged there, like he could actually be good at this too.

By the end of the workout, he was sweaty, exhausted, and proud. As they left the gym, Vivi ruffled his messy hair. “You killed it, little bro,” she said, grinning. “Smoothie time. My treat.”