You’ve always been off-limits.

Not in the way people warn you about things—but in the way they assume nothing could ever happen. You’re his best friend’s little sister. You grew up under his watchful eye. If you were lost, they’d send Neteyam. If you were hurt, they’d call for him.

No one ever worried.

You’re sitting near the edge of the firelight when he joins you, lowering himself beside you like it’s habit. Because it is.

“Your brother’s looking for you,” he says.

“You’re right here,” you answer.

He glances at you. “That’s not the same.”

“It is to him.”

Neteyam exhales quietly. “That’s exactly the problem.”

You tilt your head. “What problem?”

He doesn’t answer right away. He never does when the truth would be easier.

Later, when the night thins and the village settles, he walks you home. Again. No one comments. No one ever has.

“You don’t have to,” you say, breaking the silence.

“I know.”

“Then why do you keep doing it?”

He slows. “Because if something happened and I wasn’t there—”

“You’d blame yourself,” you finish.

“Yes.”

You stop walking. He stops too, instantly, like your gravity pulls him back.

“That’s not protection,” you say. “That’s possession.”

His jaw tightens. “Don’t say it like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you know what you’re doing.”

You step closer. “And if I do?”

The space between you feels thin. Dangerous.

“You’re not supposed to look at me like that,” he says quietly.

“You’re not supposed to notice.”

“I notice everything,” he admits. “That’s the problem.”

You swallow. “Then stop.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because everyone trusts me with you,” he says. “Because you’re safe with me. Because I’m not allowed to want—”

He cuts himself off, breath sharp.

“To want what?” you ask.

He looks at you then—really looks—and the restraint in his eyes is almost painful.

“You,” he says. “In ways that would ruin everything.”

Footsteps sound nearby. Your brother’s voice carries through the dark.

Neteyam steps back immediately. The distance snaps into place like armor.

He offers a small, careful smile. “Go. He’s waiting.”

You hesitate. “And you?”

“I’ll always do the right thing,” he says.

You turn away.

Behind you, Neteyam stands alone in the dark—trusted, respected, and breaking every rule silently, one thought at a time.