Chapter 1: The Nightshirt Game

When I chucked my dirty nightshirt onto my stepbrother’s face, my vision was suddenly bombarded by a flurry of live comments, like I’d stumbled into a TikTok livestream gone rogue:

[This girl thinks she’s punishing him, but our boy is secretly loving every minute.]

[The cinnamon roll second lead falling for the sassy queen—only real ones know how sweet this is.]

[Too bad he’s destined to lose to that main dude who looks like he needs Pepto-Bismol. Otherwise, our girl wouldn’t end up so tragically, sob sob.]

The comments hovered in my sight, flickering like a late-night TikTok feed gone wild. Frozen, the nightshirt still in my hand, I hesitated, then tossed Caleb a pair of battered black socks.

Caleb, usually the picture of composure, suddenly trembled.

The live comments erupted:

[Who says our cinnamon roll isn’t hot? He’s got the grit!]

[Girl, just spoil him already!]

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I stared at the chat bubbles still streaming through my vision.

Caleb is in love with me?

How is that even possible?

My head spun. I pressed my palm to the doorframe, trying to steady myself. The kitchen still smelled like burnt Folgers coffee from this morning, and the sticky linoleum cooled my bare feet. I took a breath, turned, and ordered Caleb, “Hey, can you hand-wash these for me later? The machine messes them up.”

“Hand wash them? My clothes can’t go in the machine.”

Caleb looked up, a flash of happiness flickering in his dark eyes, but it vanished almost instantly.

“These are your… private clothes,” he said, his voice rough, like the crinkle of a chip bag. “Are you sure I can touch them?”

My mouth went dry. I couldn’t even form a comeback, my brain short-circuiting as the comments scrolled by. Still, I kept my face stern. “Hurry up.”

As Caleb carried the clothes into the bathroom, I hesitated in the hallway, then quietly trailed after him.

Bathed in warm light, he stood by the spotless sink, gently shaking out the pink fabric, then slowly brought that muted shade close to his lips.

I stared, stunned, the world tilting off its axis. My jaw dropped. I spun and fled to my room.

Caleb really does have feelings for me—feelings he’s never supposed to have.

I tried to calm myself, replaying the plot points from the live comments in my head.

So I’m the heroine in some old-school, angsty romance. Destined to fall for the main guy, while Caleb, who’s always harbored a silent crush, is the second lead doomed to heartbreak.

As the story goes on, I’ll meet the main lead, fall for him, and then just start breaking my own heart.

Thinking of all those tragic Netflix heroines I’d binge-watched, I shivered. I could practically see myself, sobbing on the steps of our cookie-cutter suburban home.

A gentle knock sounded at the door.

Caleb’s voice came from outside: “Rachel, I’ve finished washing them. If you don’t need anything else, I’ll head back downstairs.”

I snapped out of my thoughts and hurried to open the door.

Our eyes met, but Caleb was the first to look away.

Noticing how flustered I was, I felt awkward. “Um, from now on, you don’t need to call me ‘Miss.’”

Caleb’s eyes flickered with confusion and surprise.

At the same time, chat bubbles flashed again:

[No, don’t! If you don’t let him call you ‘Miss,’ the sweet puppy will be crying into his pillow tonight.]

[Second lead is so pitiful. As a kid, he hurt his hand saving her and can never play piano again. Now even his secret joy is gone. My heart can’t take it.]

I was stunned. Caleb saved me?

But I didn’t remember that at all.

I shook my head, recalling what the comments said about Caleb eventually dying in a boating accident to save me. My chest tightened, a dull ache blooming. “You’re not Dad’s son, but at least you’re my brother in name. From now on, just call me by my name.”

Caleb’s fists clenched. His knuckles whitened. For a second, I thought he’d say something, but he just pressed his lips together.

Just as I wondered if I’d upset him, the chat bubbles refreshed:

[Aaaah, brother is standing up for himself!]

[Who gets it? Caleb’s biggest wish is to call her by her name, and tonight it finally happens!]

[You’re all excited, but I’m just worried about the bathroom. How long will he need a cold shower to calm down tonight?]

My face grew inexplicably hot as I read the comments. I stepped back. “You can go now.”

Caleb still seemed dazed, but he nodded and turned to head downstairs.

Watching him leave, I dove under my covers and finally let out a sigh of relief. My fingers clutched the edge of the quilt so hard it creased.

I couldn’t say exactly how I felt—just that my heart was a tangled mess, all jumbled up and restless.

Someone I’d bullied from seventeen to twenty-two, who never once resented me, but in the end lost his life to save me…

How could I keep hating someone like him?