It was a cloudy afternoon in Redondo Beach, and Jake, 15, was trailing behind his older sister Sunday as they walked into the local boutique grocery store. He had his hood up and AirPods in, not in the mood to be running errands — especially not with Sunday on a mission.

“C’mon, Jake,” Sunday said, tugging his hood down. “You’re acting like I dragged you to a funeral.”

“You did,” he mumbled. “A funeral for my Saturday.”

Sunday rolled her eyes dramatically. “You’ll live. Besides, it’s for Demitra. I gotta fix this.”

Earlier that morning, Sunday and Demitra, both fiery and stubborn, had gotten into a legit argument — not their usual teasing bickering, but a full-on disagreement that ended with slammed doors and a lot of silent tension. Jake stayed out of it, of course — but he definitely heard everything from the couch while pretending to play Fortnite.

Now, Sunday was determined to apologize. Her plan? A peace offering: a fancy gift basket and Demitra’s favorite flowers.

“Grab that lavender candle,” Sunday said, pointing at a shelf. “She always lights that when she’s in her ‘leave-me-alone’ moods.”

Jake grabbed it, raising an eyebrow. “Didn’t you just yell at her to not be dramatic and ‘leave everyone alone’?”

Sunday side-eyed him. “Yeah, and now I feel bad. Don’t rub it in.”

They continued down the aisle — Sunday grabbing things like chocolate-covered pretzels, a skincare set, and a little notebook that said You Got This on the front. She hovered at the floral section for a minute before choosing a bouquet of soft pink and white roses.

“She’s gonna cry when she sees this,” Jake said, arms crossed. “Soft.”

“Shut up,” Sunday said with a laugh, bumping into him. “You’d cry too if I bought you a candle and snacks.”

Jake smirked. “Depends. Are the snacks good?”

As they walked to the checkout, Sunday glanced down at the basket, her expression softening. “I just… I don’t like when we’re not good. She’s my sister. I can be mad, but I still love her.”