That night, I saved her as she fell from the rooftop.
She had nowhere to go, so I took her in.
There was only one bed in the cramped studio. Curled up in my arms, she cried all night.
Half-asleep, she turned over and kissed me.
Trembling, she whispered in my ear, “Don’t go… Please…”
I knew she mistook me for the scumbag who had hurt her so deeply.
But I still held her tightly in return.
The next morning, she woke up blushing and avoided me.
I just smiled and leaned close to her ear. “Sis, aren’t you going to take responsibility for what happened last night?”
She had no idea that I had a photo of her scumbag boyfriend saved on my phone. He was my biological older brother.
