The next day, the hospital doors opened to the crisp afternoon air. She stepped out, relieved to be free from the smell of antiseptic, yet a weight still sat on her chest. She was happy to be going home—but worried for the two people waiting for her there.
As soon as they reached the house, her younger brother and sister rushed to the door.
"Sisi! What exactly happened?" they cried in unison, eyes wide with fear.
"Nothing," she said quickly, forcing a smile. "I'm fine now."
"Your sisi needs rest," he interrupted, his tone firm. "Take her to her room and make sure she sleeps."
They obeyed, guiding her gently toward her bed. The younger sister lingered behind, glancing at him curiously.
"Sisi is sleeping now," she whispered. "Thank you… for bringing her home. Are you… her friend?"
"Sure, I am," he replied without hesitation.
The girl's lips trembled. "Sisi… she never shows it, but she's sensitive. She works so hard for us. She never lets us feel like orphans. She's given us everything we ever asked for. She… she's all we have." Tears spilled down her cheeks.
He crouched to meet her gaze, his voice steady. "A child like you shouldn't cry. She is strong. She isn't weak or fragile—she's brave. And you are too. Remember that."
Something in his tone made the girl believe him, as if his words were a promise.