A Thread Between Us

I sat cross-legged on my bed, grinning like an idiot.

Between my fingers was a bracelet made from red, yellow, and white threads. Carefully woven, decorated with a tiny silver bead in the center.

It wasn’t fancy.

It wasn’t bought.

It was mine—made with the only warmth I had in this cold world.

**A gift.**

For him.

I bit my lip and looked at it again. *Will he like it? Will he even wear it?*

And then my mind drifted…

Back to a time I thought I’d buried.

---

### **Flashback – Age 19 | College**

It was during a cultural festival on campus.

Every student had chosen a tradition from around the world to present.

One girl stood in front of a decorated booth, dressed in a bright salwar suit, bracelets on her wrist, her voice clear as she spoke.

**“In India, there is a festival called Raksha Bandhan,”** she explained.

**“It celebrates the bond between siblings. On this day, a sister ties a ‘rakhi’—a sacred thread—around her brother’s wrist. In return, the brother promises to protect her. It’s a symbol of love, care, and chosen family.”**

The word *chosen* hit me like lightning.

She held up a colorful handmade bracelet. “It’s not about blood. It’s about heart. Even unrelated people can be rakhi siblings. It’s the bond that matters.”

I’d stood there frozen, tears burning behind my eyes.

*Could I ever have a bond like that?*

Later that night, I tried.

I made a bracelet. Clumsy, but sincere.

And I offered it to my brother.

He took one look, sneered, and tossed it aside. “What is this trash?”

The next day, I saw him showing off a brand new watch.

A gift from Silvia.

My chest cracked a little that day.

---

### **Back to Present – Age 12 (Again)**

But this time…

This time it would be different.

I grinned at the bracelet in my hands.

*Raiyan’s not like them.*

He wasn’t perfect. He was moody, bossy, and dramatic.

But he was real.

*And maybe… just maybe… he’d accept it.*

I rolled back and forth in bed that night, smiling like a fool. My heart raced every time I imagined his reaction.

“Will he act cool? Will he smile? Will he—ugh—I need to sleep!”

Finally, sometime around 2am, I drifted off.

---

The next morning in class, he was already at his desk.

Head down. Breathing slow.

But this time…

He wasn’t pretending.

I walked closer and frowned. “Hey… Raiyan?”

No response.

I lightly patted his arm. “Oi. Wake up.”

He didn’t stir. I leaned closer.

My fingers brushed his forehead.

*Hot.*

*Burning hot.*

I gasped. “You’ve got a fever!”

He mumbled something and tried to wave me off.

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I said I’m—”

“—going to the infirmary right now,” I finished for him. “Come on.”

He resisted the whole way, stumbling and mumbling complaints.

“You’re so annoying—stop pulling— I said I’m fine—”

“Shut up and walk.”

“I can walk just fine!”

“You’re leaning on the wall like it’s your long-lost love.”

He glared. “I’m telling my mafia brother.”

I rolled my eyes. “Tell him I saved your life. Maybe he’ll thank me.”

---

At the infirmary, the nurse took his temperature.

“39.4°C,” she said, eyebrows rising. “That’s high. You need rest, young man. Go home.”

“I’m not going home—”

“Yes, you are,” I said.

The nurse smiled at me. “You can help him leave early. I’ll write a permission slip.”

I nodded. “Thanks. I’ll grab my bag.”

When I returned…

He was already leaving.

“Oi! Can’t you wait two minutes?!”

He glanced back lazily. “I thought you left me.”

“*I went to get my bag!* You really are a handful.”

---

We took a taxi.

When the driver stopped, I reached for my purse.

“Don’t even think about it,” Raiyan muttered, handing me his wallet.

I blinked. “You want me to use *your* money?”

“You’re not paying for me.”

I sighed, stuffed the wallet back into his pocket, and paid with my own.

“Stop being so dramatic.”

He grumbled like a scolded puppy. “I’m the man here.”

“And I’m the adult here,” I replied.

“…That’s fair.”

---

His house was enormous.

But cold.

Empty.

No voices. No servants. No scent of food.

“Where’s everyone?”

“Dad’s out of the country. Cleaner comes in the morning. I usually eat… whatever.”

“…You mean takeout?”

“Yeah. Or chips. Whatever’s left.”

I stared at him, stunned. “You live like this?! Alone?!”

He shrugged. “It’s fine.”

It wasn’t.

---

I brought him to bed and tucked him in.

“Blanket burrito mode: engaged.”

“Don’t make it weird.”

I placed a wet towel on his forehead. “Shut up and rest.”

“…You’re bossy.”

“And you’re sick. Sleep.”

He slowly drifted off.

Once his breathing softened, I slipped downstairs.

The kitchen was a sad warzone of soda cans, expired cookies, and empty noodle cups.

But—thankfully—there was instant porridge, frozen veggies, and sausages.

I cooked the porridge, seasoned it gently, added chopped sausage and veggies.

Simple. Warm. Comforting.

---

Back in his room, he was still asleep.

I shook him gently. “Oi. Time to eat.”

“No…”

“You’ll starve.”

“Let me die…”

“Don’t make me shove it in your mouth.”

He finally sat up, eyes half-closed.

I held up the spoon. “Eat.”

“…You made this?”

“No, I summoned it from the heavens. Yes, I made it.”

He took a bite. Blinked.

“…It’s good.”

“Duh.”

“You cooked this?”

“I *just* said yes.”

He looked genuinely impressed. “You cook good. Like… actually good.”

I grinned. “Then listen carefully. If you want to eat more of my cooking, upgrade your kitchen. Vegetables, rice, meat, fruits. And throw away the junk.”

“…Will you cook for me again?”

“If you behave.”

He looked like a puppy that just heard the word “walk.”

---

When I stood to leave, he spoke.

“My driver’s outside. He’ll take you home.”

I smiled. “Thanks.”

And then… I pulled out the bracelet.

He blinked. “What’s that?”

“A bracelet. I made it.”

“For me?”

“Yeah. It’s not expensive… just… something handmade.”

His eyes lit up.

He tried to play it cool, leaning back and folding his arms. “I read about this in a book. There’s this… Rakhi thing, right? Where girls give bracelets to guys. Like… a sibling thing?”

I stared.

“You read about Raksha Bandhan?”

“…Maybe.”

I smiled. “Even if we’re not siblings, maybe we can pretend. Like friends.”

He lifted his arm and extended his wrist.

“Then tie it.”

I tied it gently.

He watched every movement like it was something sacred.

Once it was done, he looked at me and said softly:

“From now on… you should call me brother.”

I paused.

Smiled.