My Brother Never Gave Me a Home Chapter 01
Four years since my biological brother found me and brought me home.
I was still a ghost. A borrowed student. A shadow with no legal right to be there.
Year one, he said his adopted sister was too young. She couldn’t handle finding out she wasn’t the real daughter.
Year two, he said her birthday wish was to be the family’s only princess one more time.
Year three, he said she was about to take the SAT. Finalizing my residency status would feel like kicking her out. It would mess with her head. Ruin her test scores.
So I waited.
Until the SAT was over and I was still scrambling.
Trying to figure out how to enroll in the research institute that had accepted me through the Talent Program.
A program only open to state residents. And I still couldn’t prove Crestwood residency.
That was when I saw it.
Chloe Ashford’s social media post:
[Not depending on my big brother anymore means I’m finally growing up?]
The attached image was a screenshot of Leo replying: [Mean I’m useless then.]
And a photo of a property deed.
Chloe Ashford’s name. Today’s date.
I zoomed in on that deed. Stared at it until my eyes burned.
Two weeks ago, Leo had told me Chloe’s place had drained the liquid cash this year. That proving my Crestwood residency would have to wait.
The whole thing would’ve been so simple. I didn’t need a house. I just needed proof. A piece of paper.
But they kept saying no. Every single time.
My eyes were still stinging when my phone lit up.
Leo calling.
“Chloe was afraid we’d kick her out once she turned eighteen. So I bought her a place. Now she feels secure. You can come home anytime.”
“The liquid cash is tied up for this year. But next year. Next year I swear I’ll make sure you have a real home. Legitimately.”
The despair was bottoming out into numbness when my phone buzzed again.
My adoptive parents:
[If you’re unhappy, come home. We got a place in Crestwood. Already saved a spot for your household registration. This will always be your home.]
I wiped my eyes and typed back:
[Okay.]
I was done waiting, Leo.
The home you couldn’t give me.
I’d had it for over a decade already.
—
The call hadn’t ended.
My phone screen still showed that photo dump of gifts.
A massive bank transfer. A luxury car. Limited-edition designer pieces that hadn’t even hit the market yet. The property deed. And a pair of first-class tickets for a global trip.
Aside from the things I didn’t have, every single thing looked about the same as what he’d given me.
But the girl in those photos smiled so much brighter than I ever did.
I was almost curious why.
“Is there something different about those?”
Leo shifted, awkward. Nervous. Like he was afraid I’d get the wrong idea.
“These were things I promised her before you came back. Stuff she’s always wanted.”
“What’s wrong? You don’t like what I got you? I’ll swap it out for something else.”
That sentence. I’d heard it so many times before.
The first time we had dinner together, he’d noticed every dish I didn’t touch.
“If you don’t like it, next time I’ll get you something else.”
After the SAT, he came to pick us up with flowers. Chloe got her favorite lilacs. I got roses. I’m allergic to roses.
“Sorry. Didn’t know what you liked. I’ll get it right next time.”
Three years. He’d said some version of that sentence so many times.
So many times that the initial sting had faded into a dull, permanent numbness.
I didn’t say anything. My phone lit up with a bank transfer notification:
[Buy whatever you want.]
I should’ve felt lucky.
He wasn’t like the brothers in those switched-at-birth stories. The ones who were always biased, always choosing one sister over the other.
He never called me dramatic. Never said I was too sensitive.
He always tried to give me what I asked for.
But I always had this hollow, sinking feeling. This exhaustion I couldn’t explain.
And I finally understood where it came from.
He had never once tried to know me the way he knew Chloe.
He didn’t care about what I liked.
He didn’t care about giving me a first-time experience.
Everything he gave me was just a convenience. A byproduct. Something he grabbed for her and doubled up on for me.
My silence must have stretched too long.
He started talking about the proof again.
“Don’t worry. I’ll figure something out for your enrollment. Worst case, we can have a relative step in as your legal guardian. They can establish your residency. It just might be hard to reverse later, but—”
It hit me then.
Maybe that was what he wanted all along. He could give me gifts. Promise me things.
But I could never seem to become his family.
How deeply pointless all of this was.
What was I still doing, clinging to someone else’s family?
I cut him off.
“I want to go home.”
