Mom's arms immediately wrapped around her again, soothingly. "Oh, my child… it's okay. You're safe now. It's horrible, I know, but you're home, and nothing can hurt you here."
I stayed silent, my heart heavy, watching my little sister tremble. A surge of protectiveness washed over me. Whatever it took, I promised myself, I wouldn't let anything frighten her like that again.
Beatrice's words hung in the air, heavy and chilling. Mom hugged her tightly, whispering soft reassurances. I could see the fear lingering in her eyes, the trembling of her hands.
Dad, who had been quietly observing from behind his laptop, finally put it aside. He leaned back in his chair and cleared his throat. "Well," he said, trying to sound casual but failing to hide a tiny smirk, "at least she didn't bring the criminals home with her."
Mom gave him a sharp look, but Beatrice cracked the tiniest of smiles through her tears.
Dad continued, "You know, in our house, the scariest thing is… your big brother's cooking. That's the only crime I'm really afraid of."
I rolled my eyes but couldn't stop a grin. Even in that tense moment, Dad had this uncanny ability to sprinkle a little humor that made the worst fears seem lighter.
Beatrice laughed softly, a genuine, shaky laugh this time. "Daddy… that's not funny!"
Dad raised his hands in mock surrender. "Okay, okay. But seriously, we're all here. You're safe. The world can be horrible, yes, but in this house… the worst that will happen is that your brother will complain about you hogging the remote."
Mom shook her head, smiling, and finally Beatrice's trembling eased a little. I watched her, feeling a mix of relief and gratitude. Dad's humor — silly as it sometimes was — had worked its magic, giving her the room to breathe, to feel safe again.
Even in the shadow of something terrible, family had this remarkable way of bringing back warmth and normalcy.
"And here I was, imagining that someone had bullied my little sister, and I was already gearing up like a hockey player ready to storm the battlefield. I even thought about calling my friends for backup," I said in a joking tone to make the environment lighter.
"Silly me," I said jokingly, "who would dare bully my sister? It'd probably be you bullying someone else instead. I can just imagine some poor boy on his knees, begging, 'Please forgive me! Please forgive me!' while crying."
Beatrice glared at me, her eyes flashing. "Big brother!" she shouted, half angry.
Before I knew it, she ran straight at me, her little fists swinging playfully.
Seeing her charging like that, I panicked. "Whoa, okay! Okay!" I yelled and ran away across the room, dodging her.
"Catch me if you can, you little girl with your little legs! How are you going to catch me, catch—catch—hahaha—you can't catch me!"
Mom and Dad watched us, Mom laughing softly while Dad shook his head with that typical "I can't believe these two" expression.
I peeked back at Beatrice from behind the couch. She now laughed — a bright, relieved laugh that made my chest feel lighter.
Even after the terrifying news she had seen earlier, it seemed like the world could still be a little brighter — all thanks to a playful sibling chase.
"Wait before I catch you, you stop there, you always bully me, I won't talk to you anymore," said Beatrice, a little flustered.
"Daddy, look, big brother is bullying me again!" she pouted, pretending she might cry. Knowing it was just a trap, I went to her and sat beside her.
"I have caught you now, where will you run?" Suddenly she pounced on me.
"Well, I thought I'd give my sister the set of the calligraphic designer book — the special edition by John Dilton, the famous calligraphist and columnist — since you want to fight with your brother, then forget it," I interjected, pretending to be very disappointed.
"Big brother, what did you say, say it again!" she said with a sparkle in her eyes.
"Ah, I said something? I don't remember," I teased.
"Big brother, have you really bought that book — the one I searched for but didn't find anywhere, even after going to every bookstore in the city?" she said, halting her playful punches.
"Which book? What are you talking about? I don't know what you're talking about," I said, feigning ignorance.
"Big brother, I won't make trouble for you, I'll be a good girl, I'll behave myself — please, please, please give me those books!" she begged.
"That's like my sister," I said proudly.
"Big brother, about that book — when are you going to hand it to me?" she asked.
"Oh, about that… hmm…" I pretended to think for longer than necessary and didn't reply.
Realizing she couldn't win, she gave a small pout and sulked.
"Actually, the book isn't at home. When I was coming from the office that day, I suddenly remembered my colleague talking about a famous book stall in the city — the kind where they say you'll find books that are nowhere else to be found. So before returning, I went to the stall, and luckily I found the book. It was the only edition available — if I had gone later, maybe I wouldn't have found it at all. I'm very lucky, aren't I?" I thought.
Home delivery option was available, so I chose it, thinking it would arrive soon.
You might wonder — if it was available, why didn't I bring it myself instead of choosing delivery? Foolish, right? Well, not really. Some of the books were stored in a warehouse since it's a collection of three. So, having no other choice, I had to go with that option.
Just then, my phone rang, snapping me out of my thoughts.
"Oh, Tommy," I muttered, seeing his name flash on the screen.
"Why is he calling now? Is it for my new job's party? I didn't host it before since I left town, but now that I've returned, he must've found out…"
I sighed, debating for a second.
"Should I pick up or not?" I thought.
My sister looked at me with an expression that said, 'You stingy guy,' and then she deliberately ignored me.