2014
From Felix's perspective
With horror in my eyes, I stared at Lucas—my cousin. But for as long as I could remember, I'd called him my older brother. We'd been raised together since childhood, inseparable.
I never fully understood what had prompted my mother to take him in. She'd told me once that Lucas's father had a difficult situation and couldn't raise his son alone. Supposedly, he lived in New York, but I'd never seen him. Not even once.
Lucas and I were close—like siblings. One couldn't imagine life without the other. He was a year older and far more confident. He always stood up for me, always took charge. Despite his slim figure, he had a presence that intimidated our peers. And yet, I was the only one who knew his true face. He wore his masks too well. My parents never saw through them.
Each time he got into trouble, I took the blame. He manipulated me easily, warning that if the truth came out, my parents would throw him out. "I'm not their real son," he'd say, and I—afraid of losing him—let him off the hook every time.
Just like now.
He had ruined the new bright sofa, splashing it with ink. It wasn't an accident. He did it just to provoke me. A stupid joke. And now, I stood in front of my parents with my head bowed, trying to hold back tears.
"Felix, for God's sake, how old are you?!" my mother screamed, her eyes blazing. "Do you even know how much that couch cost?!"
"I'm sorry," I mumbled, barely audible.
"What good are your apologies?! You cause problems every single day! Not a moment of peace in this house!" she raged. "Take a look at your older brother—why can't you be more like him?! Responsible!"
Behind me, Lucas stood silent, pretending innocence, laughing inside.
"It was an accident," I whispered. "I'd never ruin the couch on purpose."
"Sometimes I wonder how I managed to give birth to such a fat, stupid child," she snapped. "You're hopeless."
That broke me.
Tears spilled from my eyes as I raised my hands to cover my face. My father looked at her, stunned.
"Isn't that a bit too cruel?" he muttered.
One glare from her silenced him. In this house, he had no voice. He was only here to make money and follow her lead.
Lucas came over and placed his hands on my trembling shoulders.
"Auntie, you don't know how hurtful your words are," he said gently. "Felix really suffers when you talk to him like that."
"Then stop him from being so stupid if you care so much," she snapped, and with that, she turned on her heel and stomped upstairs. My father followed without a word, obedient as always.
I turned to Lucas, blinking through my tears, my voice broken.
"Please… don't do anything stupid again. She hates me."
"Alright," he said lightly, patting my shoulder. "I'll behave. You've already suffered enough because of me."
*
Present
From Selena's perspective
I screamed as two men grabbed me under the arms and dragged me up the stairs, my heels scraping uselessly against the floor. Felix, held back by several security guards, could do nothing but watch.
Terror clawed at my chest as they shoved me into Lucas's office. My eyes darted wildly across the room—brown and beige, cold and suffocating. Lucas sat at his desk, lazily turning a pen in his hand, his expression unreadable.
"Mouse," he said, the word curling in his mouth like a slur, "you're starting to irritate me. You managed to live just fine without my little brother for years—after locking him up in a mental hospital and smothering him. And now you show up, pretending to be a good girl."
"I didn't 'smother' him," I spat, though my voice trembled. "I wanted the best for him. I believed real treatment—and keeping my distance—would help him heal. And I was right. He got better. But now you're dragging him back into paranoia. I have no doubt you, along with his mother, were the main cause of his illness."
Lucas smiled faintly, almost fondly.
"Before blaming everyone else, consider your own role too, mouse."
"As a child, he adored me because I was the only one who stood by him," I shot back, trying to sound strong even though fear coiled in my gut. "I'm not the cause of his illness—your family is. He saw in me something real. Something safe. That's why he clung to me. I was the only good thing in his life. The rest? Scum. Especially you and his mother. You don't deserve to be near him."
Lucas raised an eyebrow. He folded his hands on the desk and rested his chin on them, studying me like a predator observing trembling prey.
"We're family," he said softly. "Felix and I only have each other now. I'm the only one who can give him a stable life. You would drag him down again. You're poison."
"And you're poison too," I snapped. "He's afraid of you."
That struck something. His eyes narrowed, and the air in the room seemed to still.
"You won't leave this place," he said calmly, "until you end your relationship with my brother."
"Why do you care?" I cried. "You're part of the reason he broke down in the first place! If anything, you should be the one to stay away!"
"I won't allow you two to be together again," he said.
"Well, that's your bad luck," I hissed. "Because I was the only girl he ever loved! You can't change his feelings—no matter what you do. You don't have the right to decide who he can love. It's none of your damn business!"
"It is mine," he replied, voice low and dangerous.
I frowned, confused.
"Because fourteen years ago," he continued, "on the very day you caught my brother's attention… you caught mine too, mouse."
2014
From Lucas's perspective
I sat in the stands, watching my hopeless little brother get pushed around like usual. Honestly, I was starting to believe he'd never grow a backbone. He couldn't defend himself. He always acted so pitiful—waiting for me to swoop in.
Just as I was about to get up and put those brats in their place, someone else stepped in.
A girl. Younger than him. Small, but bold. She stood up for him without hesitation. Her courage was almost laughable—almost. Instead, it made me smile.
"It was an exception that I helped you. Try being more assertive," she said, turning on her heel.
But then, at the sound of Felix's quiet "thank you," she froze for a heartbeat before walking away.
"Fascinating…" I muttered.
The next day, I saw her again—alone in the library, her nose buried in a book. I took the opportunity and crouched beside her. She lifted her head and looked at me, curious but unafraid.
"Shouldn't middle school boys be hanging out with their friends?" she asked, bold as ever.
"How do you know I'm in middle school?" I countered.
"I guessed. You look much older than me."
"Great. Now I feel ancient. I'm only thirteen."
"Only? I thought you were at least… Never mind. Then I guess I can say I'm only ten." She snorted, amused by her own wit.
I grinned. She intrigued me.
"What are you studying? Maybe I can help—as your wise and experienced tutor?" I offered with a grin.
She gave me a pitying look.
"Wow. You must be really desperate to talk to me. I don't hang out with middle school boys. Besides, I'm good at studying." She gathered her books and stood up. "Also… I only hang out with people who have a kind expression. You look mean."
She walked off without even a second glance.
I laughed out loud.
"She's great."
That afternoon, I sat at home and listened to Felix gush about the fourth-grade girl who'd defended him. He described her as amazing—fearless and kind, with a heart big enough to stand up for someone like him. He said he wished they could be friends, but he knew it was hopeless. "I'm too ugly. Too pathetic," he said.
I scowled. It bothered me that he was talking about the same girl who had caught my attention.
"The only thing you can do is admire her from afar," I told him coldly. "Just because she defended you doesn't mean she wants to be your friend. She did it because she felt sorry for you. If you want her attention, you'll have to lose weight and fix your pathetic attitude. Right now, she wouldn't give you a second glance. You're an outcast. Without me, you wouldn't survive here."
His face fell. That miserable look made me almost pity him—but only almost.
"You're right, Lucas," he whispered. "Just because she helped me… doesn't mean I deserve her friendship. I'm hopeless."
I rolled my eyes.
"Then do something about it. Stop wallowing. Change something. No one's going to feel sorry for you forever."
*
PresentFrom Selena's perspective
My voice caught in my throat. I couldn't get the words out. I just stared at Lucas with wide, stunned eyes as he casually twirled the pen between his fingers.
"It's a shame you forgot about me," he murmured. "I used to talk to you quite a bit. I really liked you back then, Selena. Your spirit impressed me. But now…" He tilted his head slightly. "Now I'm disappointed. You've become a scared little mouse."
"You… you were there? You saw what happened?" I whispered, my voice barely audible.
Lucas's lips curled into a faint smile.
"Yes," he said calmly. "And yet, you never thanked me. If I hadn't walked into that art class when I did, who knows what might've happened?" His eyes slid over me slowly, calculated. "I wanted to kill him. Watching that filthy old man put his hands where they didn't belong—on a little girl. Disgusting."
My eyes squeezed shut. That day. Those awful memories. They came rushing back, uninvited.
"Does Felix know?" Lucas asked, his tone feigning curiosity. "Does he know what happened to you back in elementary school? Why you vanished from school after that day? Or am I the only one who knows your dark little secret?"
Panic flared in my chest. I swallowed hard, then forced myself to look him in the eyes.
"Please," I said hoarsely. "Don't ever tell him. That part of my life is over. I left it behind. I don't want him to know."
"It's sad, Selena," he said, rising from his chair. "Do you know why?" He turned toward me, then crouched down, bringing himself to my eye level. His gaze swept over me again, cold and calculating. "Because if two people love each other—really love each other—there shouldn't be secrets between them. And yet… you never told him what happened to you."
"Promise me you won't say anything," I begged. My voice trembled, but I didn't care. "Please."
Lucas's smile darkened.
"Then you promise me—you'll never go back to him."