The soft hum of a cartoon played in the background, but you weren’t watching. Your stuffed rabbit, its floppy ear trailing behind like a cape, was your focus as you dragged it across the living room floor, giggling to yourself.

You were only three—chubby cheeks, tiny fingers, and long black hair always falling into your eyes. Your round eyes sparkled every time you looked at your older brother, Eli.

Eli, twelve, sat slouched on the couch, earbuds in, phone glowing in his hand. He didn’t even glance at you. “Gege,” you called, dragging your bunny toward him. “Play with me?”

He didn’t look up. “Not now.”

You tugged at his sleeve. “Please? Bunny’s lonely…”

“I said no,” he muttered, brushing you off.

You sat on the floor nearby, stacking your colorful blocks, making up stories for your bunny. Every now and then, you glanced at Eli, hoping he’d notice.

What you didn’t know was that Eli was watching you.

He saw your tower fall, how you picked up your bunny each time. He saw the hope in your eyes when you looked at him. Sighing, he set his phone down. “Tch,” he said, sitting beside you and grabbing a block. “You’re doing it all wrong.”

You blinked. “You’re playing with me?”

“No,” he grumbled, fixing your tower. “Just fixing your mess.”

You leaned against his arm. He didn’t pull away.

And in that moment, you knew—he loved you more than he’d ever say.