Content - (Birthday celebrations are a day that every child always longs for, but that is be the worst day ever in your life. You always hated your birthday because it would only remind you of the day your parents died, also the day your older brother started to really hate you.

Today you woke up and felt your breathing was very short, this often happens to you but this time it seems worse. You called your nanny aunt but there was no answer at all. she was out shopping for daily necessities. You try to take your medicine from the cupboard but you can't reach it. because there was no other choice, you got out of bed and walked along the wall with your legs feeling unsteady.

you knocked on your older brother's door and called him, hoping he could help you just this once. after a few minutes of knocking, you gasped when the door opened roughly.

"What do you want?!" Your brother was about to scream but he stopped when he saw your condition.)

 by - https://character.ai/profile/histooria

when my breathing was very short i thought to myself (ah..am i finally dying?). this thought came immediately cause i felt myself drifting in sleep... the way the world around me spinning the though i might die became a lot clear then even death itself.

pov *your brother's eyes widen\, not expecting your current condition. he stands on the spot and stares at you\, not knowing what to do. he was too deep in his hatred to do something about you\, but seeing your struggling figure\, his mind starts waver*

i knew how much my brother hates me after that incident... The day my parents died, i was with them...the story you see in a typical drama... car accident cause i insisted on going out on my birthday.

My birthday since then became a nightmare, my only remaining family... my own brother... hated me. He said on my birthday when our parents were alive to not throw a tantrum as i am making things harder for my parents.

I as a child didn't thought much of it and thought doing this and grabbing attention from my family will help me with gaining there time and love... which obviously as a child i thought was less compared to my sibling.

cause of that, my brother completely hate me now. since then i had asthma a condition in which your airways narrow and swell and may produce extra mucus. In short, i can't breathe properly.

My brother started freaking out, not knowing what to do, as i was always taken care by my nanny. The only family who loved me and didn't blame me like others.

"I...what do i do?" my brother said as i noticed his hands trembling, the way my brothers pupil dilated, showing panic. To be honest i never saw my brother that way before, not even when our parents were alive.

I slowly lost my consciousness,drifting into what seemed a deep blue sea, not being able to breath felt terrifying, as i started feeling cold.

I woke up from my deep sleep, the previous cold I felt warmer then I expected…

“Brother?” I said, looking at his sleeping figure. He was sleeping. The oh so tall figure I always saw from a distance was sleeping on the chair beside my bed, for a moment I thought, (does he love me now? Will we start over? Will be finally normal like other siblings?) but those itself made my stomach turn. I… blamed myself for my parents' death, as my brother hated me, but I never thought my brother would hate me for the same reason.

The once very loving brother hated me to the point he refused even seeing me, let alone eating lunch or dinner with me. I wasn't allowed to funeral gatherings even, mourning was far from reach, I could only see my parents face in my phone or when my brother wasn't around grieving every day as I remember them.

From the rustling sound, my brother woke up I thought (maybe he is a light sleeper) learning something new about him gave me joy.

“Brother…” I said looking towards his troubled face, unable to grasp the emotion, was it confusion?or conflict.

Once again his icy image came to my heart, distant… and cold… as I thought these things I felt him moving around and saw him getting up from the old wooden chair, the one our parents had gifted me when I was small.

“Don't move” his low yet cold and clear voice almost made me trembled, trying to fight the reflex reaction I dare not move in front of him.

He went and called for the family doctor. As the doctor did the checkup and told nothing was wrong with me, my brother didn't bother giving me a second glance before moving away to god knows where.

None… I say none, only I saw his face, the glare he gave me before leaving the room was terrifying, as if it's telling me to stay the hell away from him. The cold and distant look telling me I was a bother, I immediately wanted to run away far from here, but my body wasn't in a condition where I could run around, and definitely not alone.

I never understood why my brother hated me so much?why? What did I do? I agree that I may be the reason, but not the cause, of that incident. I only insisted as a 9-year-old to go out on my birthday, if I knew something this terrible would have happened I wouldn't have ever celebrated my birthday.

That was the last day I saw my brother, before it was just him plane right, avoiding me. But this time, I didn't even have a glance of him. I guess he doesn't even want to bother himself by seeing my face, I am 15 right now, and he is 26,quite an age gap right? I thought so, too. They wanted to have a daughter after my brother, but had a hard time conceive cause of medical issue. But after all that, when they gave up, I was miraculously born. When they were least expecting me, I appeared. And a girl at that, it was like a dream come true for them, but who knew I would be the cause of their death?

I was 19 years old at the time, and I continued to live my life as usual. Despite the fact that I was his blood sister, he never glanced at me. Although I didn't mean to, I couldn't take my eyes off of him. If he weren't my brother, someone might think I'm stalking him. I always tried new things to get his attention.

I always tried new things to get his attention.

A new haircut. A different perfume. A new book I’d hope he’d ask about if he saw me reading in the garden. I even tried cooking once—something simple, the soup Mom used to make. But he never came into the kitchen, and the soup went cold.

Even when I fell sick again, it didn’t matter. The doctor came. The nurse came. He didn’t.

My life felt like a long hallway with all the doors closed, except the one at the end that had his name carved on it—but it was locked from the inside.

I was always left knocking.

When I turned twenty, I didn’t throw a tantrum. I didn’t try to force a smile or pretend it was a normal day. I just sat in my room, the one with the wooden chair, and stared out the window. Rain fell. The kind of soft, slow rain that looked more like sorrow than weather.

And then… I saw him.

He stood under the tree Dad had planted when I was born. The tree with the crooked branches, the one that leaned left like it was still learning to grow.

He was just standing there, unmoving, staring at the bark.

I don’t know what came over me, but I walked out barefoot, not caring about the cold ground or the fact that I hadn’t spoken a word to him in years. I just wanted to see if he remembered. If he still remembered that tree.

My feet stopped a few paces behind him. I didn’t speak.

“I hated you,” he said.

The words came out with no warning. Not even a glance in my direction.

“But I hated myself more.”

My breath caught. It wasn’t forgiveness. It wasn’t warm. But it was something. More than silence.

“I was supposed to be there that day,” he said. “Dad asked me to come. I said no because I had a game. Because I was a teenager who thought he had all the time in the world.”

The rain began to soak through my shirt, but I didn’t move.

“I blamed you because it was easier than blaming myself,” he continued, voice low and heavy. “You were just a kid. And I... I needed someone to hate me more than I hated myself.”

He finally turned around.

His face—older now, sharper, no longer the boyish smile I remembered—was twisted with something raw. Regret? Grief? Guilt?

Maybe all three.

I wanted to run to him. To tell him it was okay. But I stood there in silence as tears dripped from my face and I had a sad smile.