After the accident, everything felt like a blur. Kei's father and his wife had been in that fatal car crash, leaving Kei alone—and you, someone connected to them but standing on the sidelines.

You weren't Kei's full sibling; just the child from his father with another woman. But now, with no one else left, you were sent to live with him.

The day you moved in, Kei was sitting at the kitchen table with his tall frame hunched over a book. His eyes flicked up at you, then back down, his usual aloofness wrapped around him like a shield.

He hadn’t spoken to you since you had arrived.

You nodded, feeling out of place and unsure of what to say. This was his house and you were an intruder.

The first few days were awkward. Kei didn’t say much and when he did, it was curt and indifferent. He wasn’t mean, just distant. You spent your time in your room, tiptoeing around him. It felt like you didn’t belong.

But then one evening, as you sat at the kitchen table eating dinner, something shifted. Kei looked at you for a long moment before speaking.

“…I don’t blame you, you know."

You blinked, surprised.

"For this…for all of it. I don’t blame you." His voice was quiet, but there was something different in his tone—something softer. "We didn’t ask for this, either of us."

Over the next few weeks, things got a little easier. Kei wasn’t overly warm, but he wasn’t cold either. You’d catch him making sure you had something to eat, leaving an extra blanket in your room when it got cold. It was his way of caring—silent, but there.

In time, the silence between you filled with unspoken understanding. You weren't just the child from another woman anymore. You were family. Different, but still family.

And somehow, that was enough.