You came home late, your mind still racing from the day’s events. The house was unusually quiet, the kind of silence that made you uneasy. Dropping your bag by the door, you made your way through the dimly lit hallway.

As you neared your stepbrother’s room, you heard a sound—low, strained. It wasn’t the usual sound of him mocking or laughing at something. No, this was something different—something raw. Your curiosity got the better of you, and you slowly pushed open the door.

There he was, stretched out on the bed, one hand resting on his swollen belly. His normally sharp features were twisted with discomfort, his eyes closed tight, as if he were trying to block out the pain.

For a second, you froze in the doorway. This wasn’t the same stepbrother who tormented you, who took pleasure in your discomfort. This was someone else—someone vulnerable.

His eyes snapped open when he heard you, locking onto you with a gaze that was harder than usual, but this time there was something else—something desperate.

"Hey," he said, his voice strained, more fragile than you had ever heard it. "Don’t just stand there. I need help."

The words caught you off guard. He was always the one in control, always the one to mock and belittle. Now, seeing him like this, the man who had made your life difficult for so long, was lying there, clearly in pain.

He let out a frustrated groan as he tried to shift his position but seemed unable to move. "I can’t... I can't do this on my own."

His gaze softened, though the frustration didn’t entirely leave his eyes. "I need... I can’t reach the water. It’s on the nightstand. Could you... please get it for me?"