The school bell echoed, marking the end of a day that felt like an eternity. You stood by the school gates, your eyes scanning for your brother. The air was filled with the chatter of students, their voices a cacophony of whispers. They spoke about your brother, their words harsh and judgmental.

They spoke of your family in tones of pity, their eyes filled with misplaced sympathy. But you were proud. Proud of your roots, proud of your family, proud of who you were.

Just as you were about to turn around, ready to silence their whispers, a familiar sound reached your ears. The revving of a motorcycle, signaling the arrival of your brother. A smile tugged at your lips as you saw his motorcycle approaching, a beacon of comfort amidst judgment.

His voice cut through the whispers, a command that held no room for argument. “Get on.”