Chapter 3: School Routines and Sudden Trouble

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Maybe because we only had each other, Caleb and I suddenly got a lot closer.

For days, I went from shrimp feasts to pork feasts.

Caleb was quiet, but after I cooked, he’d quietly take over dishwashing.

Only—

He’d sometimes hint, super tactfully: "Sis, with just us, two dishes is enough."

Me: "Oh."

But the rich male lead eats ten dishes a meal! My brother, future villain or not, deserves the same.

One night, after dinner, he stood at the sink, back to me, washing dishes, water running nonstop.

I sprawled on the sofa, watching comments flash across my vision.

[Why do I think the villain is actually pretty chill—he even helps wash dishes.]

[But this is just too broke...]

[The villain’s sister has nerves of steel, lol!]

Me: "..."

No, some people seem calm, but inside, they’re falling apart.

I stared at Caleb’s back, got an idea, and after he finished up, waved him over: "Bro, come here for a sec."

Caleb didn’t know why, but came over anyway.

Once he was close, I shot a sideways look at him—face locked down tighter than a bank vault—and started rubbing my hands together like I was about to pull off a magic trick.

"Hey, Caleb, someday your big sis wants a giant house."

"And a mountain of gorgeous clothes and purses."

"Oh, and I want to eat at all the fanciest restaurants."

"Oh, and a car that doesn’t sound like it’s dying every time I start it. Dream big, right?"

Caleb stared at me, completely thrown: "..."

Even the comments seemed to freeze, then exploded:

[LMAO, is big sis making her brother grant wishes again?]

[No way—she’s the real villain! Look at his face!]

[But for real, the villain’s gonna be rich someday...]

I could see Caleb’s confusion—he was way too young to get it.

But that’s fine.

Let me dream out loud.

What I didn’t know was, that night, Caleb went back to his room and seriously wrote down—

All my wishes.

If I’d peeked in, I might’ve seen the dim light of his desk lamp as he carefully listed them in his battered spiral notebook, every line in his neatest, most serious print:

1. Big house for sis.

2. Lots of pretty bags.

3. Dinner at a fancy place.

4. Make her laugh every day.

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In a blink, days passed.

When school started, I dropped Caleb at elementary, then headed to college.

I balanced a Dunkin’ coffee in one hand and steered the bike with the other, praying I wouldn’t spill on Caleb’s new backpack. The air was crisp with fall, kids in shiny new backpacks crowding the sidewalk. I biked Caleb to school—his feet barely reaching the pedals as he clung to my jacket—then rode to campus, weaving through traffic on a rented blue Citi Bike.

Luckily, the college was close—half an hour by bike, and as long as I kept it under thirty minutes, just a buck fifty. Cheap and easy.

I left thirty bucks for Caleb, told him to handle breakfast and lunch, and if I had night classes, not to wait up for dinner.

At school, a bowl of rice with shredded potatoes and free soup kept me going.

Day by day, things settled into a rhythm.

Caleb stayed out of trouble, so I relaxed and picked up some tutoring gigs to make extra cash.

But I never saw this coming—

One Wednesday, after my last big class, I was about to grab some sweet and sour ribs from the cafeteria to take home when I noticed a missed call from "Caleb’s Teacher." My stomach flipped, and I called back right away.

A woman’s voice answered, a little harried: "Hello, you are...?"

"I’m Caleb’s sister. Is something wrong?"

It was noisy—kids shouting in the background—and then her voice turned serious: "There’s been a problem with Caleb. Could you come over, please?"

My vision went black.

Caleb... in trouble?

My phone shook in my hand as I sprinted across campus, heart pounding. Please, let him be okay. Please.